Who'da thunk it?

  All those years on the road I craved for a life made up of makin’ the best of the daily grind. You know, a house, a nice car and a little honey that I treated like a normal workin’ stiff. Day in and day out the repetition is the thing that keeps you grounded. Wake up in the morning and go to sleep at night always knowing that the income would be there and your ritualistic goings on would always be unwavering and reliable. I tried it…it didn’t stick…never does.

  I think that my life is about as repetitious as it ever will be, but I can’t normal it up, it’s not the way that I’m wired.  Resting stagnant really brings me down, I start looking at how all the other ‘straights’ are doing and it just depresses the Hell out of me. Depression is bad, so I’m doin’ my own thing…it’s either that or a hollow point to the roof of my mouth. That’s a taste you only enjoy once…I ain’t ready, give me some throttle and a reason to be out there and I’m set.

  At my age I’m done having other people tell me how it should be. I’ve listened for years and everybody has an opinion, tried to teach me life lessons, put in their two cents and adjust my course, the fact of the matter is it’s MY course so now you can just fuck off!

  I started down this path and you don’t have a say I it. Just leave me alone and let me try to make it all work. Right or wrong I am capable of connecting he dots between the birth canal to my big dirt nap. Everything in between is mine…you where given your time to suck up the air so why don’t you concentrate on that and let me fuck up any way I want. My happiness probably ain’t the same as yours anyway.

  I don’t know if there is any rhyme or reason for the things I have done in the past and do in the future but once everybody stops yammering on and on about what I am supposed to do I can kick back, smack dab in the middle of my life and things are pretty cool until somebody tells me it sucks…I’m done listening. I like what it looks like from the inside looking out and if you don’t then stop hangin’ your dirty socks on my tree and try smellin’ them yourself.

  What I have created is a slow moving train wreck that falls off the tracks every now and again but it always seems to start moving  with adjustments. It ain’t perfect but chances have been taken and hassles came up but overall it hasn’t been a bad trip if you would just stop telling me otherwise.  The chances are the wet pussy in the awkward looking woman that I call my time on Earth. I like pussy so I’ll keep living life out on a limb. Anything else is just dry fucking!

  It seems that I have had a lifetime of never having a realistic view of life. How can that be? If you spend a lifetime doing the unrealistic doesn’t that make it realistic? What the fuck is an unrealistic view of life? Get a job, marry someone out of obligation, raise a couple of kids and then die having your offspring describe you as an unhappy old bastard? Sounds pretty shitty to me, but then again I’m unrealistic.

  At this point the thing I qualify as a good life is ridiculously simple. I own little, require less and if left alone I am content. However if I did follow the advice I have turned a deaf ear to years ago I would have lost that whole acceptable existence and wound up here just the same. That scenario would make what I have horrible instead of a situation that makes me smile in its lack of complications. I just climbed the ladder to success high enough to make me happy, not climbing it in the pursuit of something more. How much do you really need?

  I have on more then one occasion been asked, “…what made you decide to give it all up for what you have now?” Give it all up, I never had it and that made all the difference.

  I live this way because I love what I do, to gain anymore of lifes creature comforts I would have to turn my back on the things that I love. Mainly painting and riding my bike whenever I want and for as long as I want as long as my basic necessities are met. But then again my life is nothing but the basic necessities.

   I survived the winter in a Winnebago and came out the other side with the ol’ piece of shit in better shape than when I first called it home. My bike is all runnin’ hard and ready to go. The studio is still hangin’ on. My health is pretty good and the dog is happy with one eye.

  So I’m just sittin’ on the stoop  waterin’ my lawn and thinkin’ about just bein’ a guy with a sleeping bag, ridin’ his bike this summer. It feels good and I’m as happy as I have ever been. Today it feels like I know what I am doin’. This is the shit that dreams are made of.You now can go back to eating shit and dying.”GTP”

This one is a big deal!

 A lot of hours left in this one but it's the last  one I'm goin' to address before I split to Smoke Out East. 18 Keyholders in this and I know every one of them so it HAS to look like they do when they are partying at the Shed. No pressure...HA!  "GTP"           AmericanMotherFucker.com

I'm done learnin' lessons, lets ride!

 The road is calling my name…every dickwad on two wheels had said this like it was a something that he can’t control, causes him to loose his mind and wrenches his soul. Nine times out of ten it’s just something that he wants everyone to believe. Fuck man, I’ve said it and every time I do I wish I didn’t, but my grand adventure of a life has become an existence of mediocrity and depression and I just can’t hang with that. Bring on the adversity…I got to roll!

  Ib will tell you this ….it’s about time I get back out there. I’ve done it enough to know why I am out doin’ it and what I need to get it done correctly and for MY purposes! I flat out just want to ride the long miles again but there is a lot of shit that is just not right about me both physically and mentally these days so this trip ain’t goin’ to be like the others…I’m putting a small bit of thought into it before I light the fires and point the Latowski towards the stratosphere and beyond.

  Mentally I know that physically ridin’ back and forth across the country is a very, very bad idea. It could fuck me for life, but my mental condition never lets me get deterred from actually doing it.

   This is the trip I have always dreamed of and I’ll be fucked if I don’t even give it a shot. The key however is making sure that this faggot of a spine I operate under doesn’t just quit somewhere in the middle of a place I cant get away from under my own power. I.E. if my back goes, me and the old bike are stuck there until the Rapture….and I don’t even want to think about that so I won’t.

  I have had to change the bike upjust so I can operate it. The always cool ‘kick only had to go. While it still has a Bakerwith a kicker on it it’s also equipped with a Rivera Primo electric start. Now I don’t have to think about starting the unstartable the whole night before and can just hit the magic button when it comes time to beat feet. This also made a stroker motor more within the realm of possibility…no matter what compression it has and how hot the cam is. Another new addition for the long range set up will be a Thunderheader slip on. Drag pipes are cool as fuck but I’m loosing a shit ton of midrange with them and the entire continent is basically covered with mid range miles so the addition will perform well but unfortunately will be as about un-chopper as you can get.

   It starts right up and after the mornings warm up I’m on the road in grand fashion. Plenty of power and a lot of high speed motoring.

  I’m getting the jive back in the suspension also. It’s always had a swing arm but now it is equipped with a set of Burly shocks and a new front end is being assembled also with Progressive springs. With a very uncool seat and some weight in the Touratech bags its full Cadillac when it’s underway.

  Yea bags, I’ve done this trip more times then I can remember and I always have to load a bunch of shit all stuffed in garbage bags and a million bungee cords holding the whole mess together…not any more. Sure you can call me what you want but I’ll still race you…to Kansas or wherever you choose to lose…I don’t care.

  I haven’t even started to save some cash for the trip even though it’s slowly comin’ in…but that will be enough for an oil change and a desperately needed new set of tires. The money will come…I can just feel it. The bike is almost done and I have a few thousand miles on it already so there will be no surprises… (Yea right).

  The whole trip is supposed to save the things that I have here at home in Payson. I’m bringin’ all my photography equipment to shoot pictures for originals and portraits. Yea those paintings I do, that’s the plan anyway. The work in my studio is becoming more like a job than an adventure. Static, technical and kind of boring. I need to bring the dirt back from the road and put it on canvas. That’s why I got into my Shovel and why I paint…all that shit that happens ‘out there’ ain’t going to find me if I sit here waiting for it to show up. No sir…lets get ‘em nekkid and roughhousing…that’s what I need. Bring it on…lets make a disturbing image God damn it!

  The trip is in its infancy and susceptible to change at any minute but as it stands it goes as follows…Az to Jersey. Jersey to Smoke Out East. Smoke out East to California for Born Free. California back to AZ to catch up on any work I picked up on the road. Then to Sturgis and so on.

  I am leaving with no cash to speak of and the whole trip relies on me cutting deals and hustling paintings. If you are interested in having me stop by and shoot something to be painted for you contact me at hamsteakdawg@gmail.com. We can work something out. I am going to also be looking for cool places to camp along the way, check out some bikes, get stoned and hopefully convince some women that I am simply dreamy…heh.

  Buy some prints, it’ll help get me a few dollars to travel on and hit me up with anything good. AmericanMotherFucker.com  Almost ‘out there’…”GTP”