Heebie Jeebies for Chicks on CBs!

So, uh, yeah... new feature on the blodge. It seems like the internets and blodges are all about stealing other people's content and reposting it, so why buck the trend, amIright? So I've just kinda catalogued some of this shit that I've got stored on my work computer before I have to give it back at the end of the year, and I might as well spread it around. And I know it's kind of crazy these days for those of us who dig the Honda CBs (I am partial to the SOHC fours myself, but have owned and worked on a few twins as well, although I find them more finicky and harder to dial in -- is that just me?), as they seem to be the hip cool thing that the kids are diggin'. But whatever. I nabbed quite a few shots of chicks on their CBs, so without further ado, today's score is the lovely CB350F, said to Soichiro Honda's favorite bike. I've owned one since 1997. They run like tops, they've got just enough oomph to stay at 75 or so on the freeway, and they are beautifully styled (much more so than their younger, slightly bigger brother the CB400F -- although the extra 50cc and 6th gear on the 400F are definite pluses). I am partial to the green ones (Candy Bacchus Green) like mine, but I've owned a red one too (and a rattle can black one). The tanks are beautifully shaped, and they're simply great looking bikes.

And, apparently, if you are in need of a little nap, they're good for those too. 

Or if you're feeling adventurous, take off your pants, take off your top, put the fan on and imagine the wind blowing through your hair as you pretend to do stunts in your high heels. Wait a sec, are those stock 4-into-4 pipes on that thing or are you just happy to see me?

Fun Fun Fun Fest

Fun Fun Fun Fest in Austin was a blast. Dirt's assurances of passes evaporated weeks ago so I took care of that through Thrasher, but his promises of a place to stay and to take care of my (valuable, work-related) stuff all disappeared within minutes of my landing. Should have known, I guess. The first night set the tone, we all had a blast, the bands were great (Flag ruled!), and after a few post-fest brews at the Yellow Jacket (which became our routine), Craig and I headed to Anthony's place for more beer and an all-night jam session. Details of the Fest along with the good photos will have to wait for the upcoming issue of Thrasher, but here are a few.

Texas legends Craig Johnson and Todd Prince. 

Texas legend John Gibson. 

Texas legend Ken Fillion. 

Flag's set list. 

Flag! 

Subhumans played a bar the first night, and they wouldn't let C-Regs in with his board. WTF. He split, but I stuck around -- killer set. Saw 'em the next day, and did an interview for Thrasher. 

Nick blasting at Lockhart Park. 

Anthony smithing at Lockhart. 

Ice T! 

Big Freedia! 

Slayer! 

King Khan and the Shrines! 

Tim Kerr's John Coltrane deck. Tim is a fucking legend and the best dude ever. 

Couple of my other favorite boards... 

Jeff Phillips, RIP.

Killer Mike! 

Steve Olson was there doing art!

Evidence CLIII: More Phun in Phoenix

Got in one more pool session before bolting from Phoenix. This one was a good little gem, but had been the site of some police interference merely two days before our voyage. We gave ourselves 15 minutes to get in and out. A little hectic, but fun, and on minute 14 a guy pulled up and got out of his car. We were out the back gate by the time he came to the front gate, another clean get away. Above, B-Rad grinds F-side.

Craig, FSG.

Hoss, BSG.

Hoss' alley find joined the session.

Another fine one from Master Pools.

didn't borrow a bike that week, but decided since the weather as nice I'd push everywhere. Fun feeling, just push.

Next time I will need some fancy wheels on my board like these. The day I posted this photo on the 'gram, I was driving with B-Rad and we saw a dud who actually had these set up (this was the sort of jokey shop board at Cowtown).  

Wouldn't be a Phoenix trip without a jizzmobile sighting. Wash that jizz off your car!

Phoenix, say goodbye to Bruiser, the 1960 Chevy Apache. Got the rust pulled and filled in with sheet metal, clear coated it, redid the cab and seat, the thing's tits and will soon be destroying the East Coast. Dude from the towing company was from New York, with a whiskey-and-cigarettes voice, big Yankees fan (and was bummed that the Sox won), and he told me (imagine the New York accent): "Somebody's gonna offer you a lot of money for this thing." "Good! Then they can buy it!" I replied.

One sticker on the thing, my pal, Rat Fink.

 

Evidence CLII: Three Pool Day

Got in and situated too late to ride on Friday, but we made up for it on Saturday with a three-pool day -- this phrase is supposed to invoke the band Three Dog Night, by the way. Back to Blue Meth, this time I could skate, although good goddam that thing is not good for my back. doesn't bother some of the other fellers, however. B-Rad gets over death the frontside way.

And C-Regs goes B-side (although he wants me to point out that this wasn't actually a make).

Evidence remains over the stairs. 

And Craiggers takes the route over them.

Heavy session, rolling with 6, so we couldn't hit the new do.

always a pleasure to pass by Eve's Tease, classiest of joints in PHX.

Next up, Big Tony, permission style, wide open, and big Anthony coping. Didn't stop Arkansas from smashing through a grind (then coming to an abrupt halt in the drain, kind of his thing lately I guess).

always a pleasure skating with Josh Whitmore, here seen smashing through the light and death.

Much style, Hoss Rogers takes the b-side approach. 

Evidence was removed, but then the evidence was replaced. 

Final stop, Pick Up Sticks. B-Rad still knows how to grind. 

So does C-Regs, one of my favorite cell phone photos.

Evidence.

 

More Phoenix pool adventures to follow.

 

 

Big Skate Week

Big shred week, managed to get four sessions in. So funny when I think about how, as a kid from the ages of, say, 12 to 22 or so, I would skate every day, sometimes all day. I miss those days, but I don't think I'd be walking if I kept it up. Four sessions a week for me here in Boston in pretty good. Got to Attleboro Sunday, then hit Newburyport midweek, covered elsewhere. Friday, Dug hit me up and I broke out to skate the Jamaica Plain DIY spot. One word: tight. Not tight like, "tiiiiight!", but like, tight transitions. Fun, cool scene, good group of kids ripping it up, cool spot. Above, Dug rips one over the titty. But not so great on Lundermuffin's knees.

Yeah, I know it doesn't look like much, but it's a deep bruise right on my knee. Thought I did some internal damage, but I think I'm gonna be good. Always get hurt before going back to AZ I guess.

Figured the knee was gonna be good when I took some runs at Attleboro. some talk about a Halloween party, but nothing really materialized other than a kick ass session with some kick ass dudes (special guest appearance, (fellow) Alva dog Murph). Photo above is Pete, and if you look closely you'll notice he does these slight ollies into his frontside grinds. Gnarly.

Hoodies, jackets, and the flaming barrel are going to be the norm from here on out, I suppose.

Pete felt the need to climb a tree and rock an impromptu rope swing. We kept telling him not to, then changed our tune and egged him on.

Sketchy, but he pulled it. Stayed at the ramp and bullshitted 'til dark. Another good time at Attleboro.

Saturday night it was off to Worcester, to meet up with Davey, Pete, and the crew, and see Dug's band Nothing But Enemies play a punk costume party in a killer DIY spot. Note the guy getting pushed down in the background as he's trying to get up. Shit's gnarly out there!

 

Life in the Dick, part 4

Seasons change (in most places), and the Dick is no exception. Raked up a shitload of leave sin the yard the other day, and as I was bagging them I grabbed a handful of dog shit. Sweet. Put in plastic bags that I bought, and then discovered that when you take your leaves to the dump, if you used plastic bags they make you dump them out and take home the plastic bags. If you buy the paper bags you just drop them off. Cute. I washed the dog shit off of my hands, but it was under a fingernail, so I had to trim my fingernails and take a shower to rid myself of the smell of dog dirt before I made myself a sandwich.

 

Got the CB350F all tuned up -- new points, plugs, valve adjust, timing. I need to change the oil and synchronize the carbs. I've put up with a tiny oil drip, and I thought it was either around the oil pump or the shift shaft, but it's apparently out of some weird plug that's on the backside of the clutch. Might have to take out the whole clutch to fix it? If so, bugger it, I can put up with it. Thing is fast and running like a top.

 

Found out from the nerdy cop who monitors parking when the Saturday farmer's market is going that my license plate is mounted incorrectly on my CB160. Turns out to be true. Gonna have to fab up a horizontal mount, likely put some semblance of a fender on the backside or something. Looking for 1969 and 1973 motorcycle plates for the bikes before I get them inspected and switched over to MA. Got 'em for my car and the SR250. Got to fix the crack in my windshield on the Valiant before it will pass inspection, and am having a devil of a time finding the proper lock strip. 

 

The previous post's photo was when I went out for a ride on the 160 and decided to capture some fall colors. Then I decided it'd be only fair shakes to do the same for the 350F. There is a pond in town, and so I headed there but detoured into this cool, old cemetery. Got a few snaps of the bike, then poked around. Some crazy old graves here. Best part: don't need to worry about getting dog shit under my fingernails since I don't have to rake up the leaves.

This grave can be seen in the photo of the bike, just above the headlight. I noticed it when taking the photo. If you can't zoom in, it's John W. Parker, a vet of the Civil War who died in 1908. Cool statue.

This one I noticed because of the book, and I thought that was cool, but she was born in 1786 and died in 1881 at the ripe age of 95 (or about two weeks shy). Crazy to think of the historical time period, just after Revolutionary War, through the War of 1812 and Civil War, the Industrial Revolution, westward expansion, decimation of the Native Americans, trains connecting East to West, invention of the bicycle, auto and motorcycle... my head is exploding.

Another Civil War vet, this time a lieutenant colonel, who died of appendicitis at the ripe old age of 20, one year afte rthe end of the Civil War. He was a lieutenant of the United States Colored Troops, and served in battle from the age of 17. He was also present for the surrender of Lee. At the end of the war he was shipped off to Austin, but died there.

And look at this big shot. Just read it.

Baked an apple pie with the last of the apples we picked at the orchard. Threw some blackberries in there and left out some butter, and good goddam that thing is edible. My secret for flaky pie dough crust involves vodka, that's all I am going to say. 

 

I went and investigated a local churrascaria -- Brazilian BBQ joint. There are a lot of Portuguese in the NE, especially in some pockets like Rhode Island and New Bedford, but there are also a lot of Brasileiros, too, and Framingham (one town over from the Dick) has a lot, and several churrascarias. Meg went with some friends from work, and I went to the same spot. I was stoked that my Portuguese held up the entire time, and the only English I spoke was the word "self-serve" -- asking in Portuguese how to say it. Grilled meats, rice and beans, fried banana and potato, chicken in sauce -- all to go, and weighed -- you pay according to weight. Leftovers made a killer lunch the next day. I will be back.

Learning the Massachusetts skate routine: get in the car, and if it is after 3 battle insane stop-an-go rush hour traffic to wherever you are going. Seriously crazy driving in the Valiant, from a dead stop to 65 to a dead stop again -- I locked up all four wheels and slid at one of these things because the idiot in the SUV in front of me slammed on his brakes super hard. Drove close to 2 hours to Newburyport to meet up with Jeff, Kevin and Eastie, and got there in time to skate for about half an hour, then drove home. The drive home only took an hour, as traffic had subsided. Park is fun, got its quirks, it was cold as shit, and it's at a school so I had to be on best behavior.

 

That's all from the Dick for this time. Remember: you're always welcome to come kick it in the Dick!