My bike in Seattle is a 1975 CB550 that I bought 20 years ago for $250. I keep it covered at my dad’s place, and start it up when I am in Seattle. It never fails to start. The exhaust is a 1970s Kerker, and since the baffle broke, I took it and all of the stuffing out, and just replaced the end of the baffle. It makes car alarms go off. It is also a bit rusty, and the engine paint has what the kids these days are calling “patina.” Someone stole the left hand side cover some time in the ‘90s, so I replaced it with one and gave it the badge off of one of my Dodge Darts, so the bike is now the “Swinger” (my brother, who is apparently illiterate, continues to this day to refer to it as the “Stinger”).
Had to gas up, get air in the tires, and buy bungee cords before I left. The tires had 10 psi in them, no wonder they felt slow. Once I was all packed, I headed off. Not more than a half mile away from my dad’s house a bird shit on my face (my visor was up). Some people consider it good luck, and I was willing to rethink my whole shit-is-dirty-and-disease-carrying-and-that’s-why-humans-avoid-it philosophy if the bike were to make it back from Portlandia in one piece.
First stop Tacoma, to buy the good fireworks. Does anyone else think it is ironic that you can only buy the good fireworks in Washington from Indian reservations? The Mountain was out.
After the shitty traffic through Olympia, the miles flew by. I stopped four times on my way to check the oil – it’s been leaking – and let it cool off. I have sad news to report: the drive in burger joint in Vader Ryderwood that used to sell licorice flavored ice cream that turned your poo green has now been replaced by a used car dealership. Sad state of affairs. It took me 6 hours with shitty traffic and stops to reach PDX, but I finally did.
After stopping in at Zach and Sarah’s, first spot was the Brooklyn Project with Zach and Pod, another (much smaller) DIY project. Super fun spot, right next to the train tracks. The graffiti ruled.
That night we kept it close to home and had a couple beers by Zach and Sarah’s. Zach picked up some cool custom tribal ear wear on the way home. Only in Oregon.
Zach and Sarah's dogs Otto and Ava rule it
Someone yakked Friday night...
and that's what slugs eat!
On Saturday everyone was pretty much tired of me saying “The dream of the 90s is alive in Portland,” including myself. But I couldn’t stop. We assembled a crew, including Matt and Gin from Seattle, and headed up to Windell’s. This place is amazing, Jaime Weller and his crew carved a wonderland out of cement. It’s not hard to skate, it’s just kind of baffling as there are so many options. You need some time here (if you can get an invite…). From there we skated the Hood River park. Chet blazed a hurricane over the tunnel/shrine to a fallen brother. Boat grinded up and down and up and down and up and down this obstacle, and Z-Burgular lauched over the hip. We headed to the river for a quick dip.
Boat stands one up at Windell's
The road to Mt Hood
The crew at Hood River park
Dean strips to some questionable undies and goes for a dip
Chet hurricanes over the memorial hole
Chet films Boat's ups and downs.
We headed back to Portland to check in at Burnside. There was a party there that day, and we caught the tail end of it. Hubbard made an appearance, Shag, Choppy, G-Man, a bunch of heads. There was a brief fireworks war, and Jaime got into a tussle with a shirtless scooter rider. Most of the crew was pooped, so I headed out solo to see our friend Dulcinea Gonzalez’s newish band, Midnight Snaxx, at the East End. Robin and Jenny came out too, and we got caught up in getting caught up, and time flew by. I rushed downstairs and caught most of the band’s set, they ruled it (and have two killer singles out). After the show we ate pizza, had a few more beers, ate more pizza, and I got in around 3:00. Nice one!
Midnight Snaxx!
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