It all smells like low tide (Taken with instagram)
Gift Horse
A garage full of the common necessaries, along with anxious hands puppeteered by ambitious minds. A brother of mine is now a certified motorcycle mechanic, together we plan on creating the perfect thunder. Real bikes. Gnarly parts. Our own way.
Stolen from Dice Magazine.
Photo by Michael Schmidt
cool thing about this is she actually rides that bike!
If I could just taste gold one time.
Away from the foil wrapped cans,
Flooded basement abodes,
To the death endeavors.
Drifting like a couple of sleeping otters.
If beauty flashed like small burning embers,
Just once,
Just inches away,
I could sleep forever in a cloud.
If I could burn all the words I don’t enjoy to see,
Merry waltzing through the prolapses of exploitation,
Gentrificate the way I convene,
Cool the erupted chaos with a steady stream,
If I could do this without pissing in the wind
Maybe in such a fragment of time I could sleep easy.
Hold onto faith.
You’re it.
Beware of snakes
Dear fellow m/c blogs. There are lurchers present. Our scene has cultivated pests slithering inside the chain fastened and forged solitude of what it means to be a person on two wheels. The way we work to live, the hands we use to build, scarred and all, are feeding a nemesis that simply thrives to deteriorate our honest, strong and tested genre. They sing our song and reblog our image that we as actual enthusiasts create. Here’s to the actual motorcycle lover. The real biker. The man on two wheels who does what he loves, and loves what he does enough to share on a blog. Some of us are legit. The rest of You get fat biting of our image. You probably can’t see through the fat, the beard, and the generic pictures of black lace covered ass.
Some of us actually do this. Some of us actually shovel ourselves into our projects. What it means for us to build our rides is a procreation of something indescribable and magnificient. Don’t be a biter, never be a poser.
Shout out to the real bike riders, fabricators, builders and loneliness to the wannabes. Suck a dick, we’ll stay two wheels down.
