Where am I?

You would think the job of a writer or editor at a motorcycle magazine, would be the ideal job. I remember when I used to read Rip's Run in Easyriders. I used to think Rip had the best job in the world. Ride around the country on a motorcycle, meet lots of great people, have adventures and get paid for it.
But is it really?
Having Joe (who is managaing editor at American Iron) staying here with us, was an eye opener. You would think the managing editor of the largest circulation m/c magazine in the world would be the best job there is. And in many ways it is. Joe gets to ride all kinds of bikes. Testing bikes for nearly every American m/c company. Trying out new riding gear. Everyone wants to be his friend and get favor with the magazine.
I've known Joe a long time. He is one of the funniest people I know, always making me laugh my ass off. Actually I have more fun with Joe than almost anyone else. His way off looking at the world and the people in it, is priceless. He has this lightning fast wit, and zaps people with it, so fast, they don't even know exactly what happened.

But it seems like Joe is on the road constantly. Home life? Sure, there is that, if you only want to be there half the time. And that's great, if you don't have too much of a life at home. Like what if you have kids, or pets or a spouse?
I had a chance to teach airbrush classes and make better $$ than I do in the shop. I turned it down. I like my mornings here at the house. Waking up and going to work. Work being a mere 15 steps from the back door. I like my routine, seeing the sun pass across the sky, the afternoon sunshine streaming through the hardwoods in the back. Spending weekends with my godsons, watching them grow.

It seems everything is a tradeoff. No easy way. No perfect life.

And those days I spent wishing I had Rip's life? Those were the years I lived on Connecticut River in a 200 yr old farmhouse. I'd wander the riverbanks, soaking up the essence of the day. And I wouldn't trade those priceless days on the river for anything. Of course at the time, no way did I see it that way. I wanted to be Rip, on the 2 wheeled road to adventure.

Maybe most of us are where we are supposed to be. Joe riding Indians in the Western Mts, sizing the the strengths and weakness of their motorcycles. Jim wandering around The Chopper Farm, dreaming up the next killer custom sportster build, David insulating the sporty shed, the bratty siamese cat lazing on the porch. The dog protecting the yard from rogue squirrels and me: doing drawings with Photoshop while the sunlight streams through the incredible fall colors of the backyard hardwoods, the doors to the studio open, the warm breeze drifting through.

We had a great time with Joe Knezevic hanging at the Compound. We went over to the Chopper farm. And Joe liked the low rent hardtail sportsters Jimmy is building. Jim's latest went together for less than $5000. That included the cost of the 1999 1200 donor bike ($1500.)
It was a low key weekend here. And that is pretty easy as we live way out in the country and there ain't shit around here. If you're looking to relax and get away from it all, this is the place. Joe got in Saturday morning and somehow followed the lengthy, obscure directions to the Compound. "Follow the road for a few miles, and after it changes names, take a left turn at the old feed store that burned down last year." As Joe is from the NYC area, he is good at that kind of stuff.
Saturday we toured the Compound and went over to the Farm, then it was into town to check out the take out food. We settled on Mexican and managed to get out of town before the local gestapo arrested us for grand theft habanero sauce and sugar cookies.
We had the best intentions of actually doing something on Sunday. It was a beautiful, sunny warm Carolina day and the sporties called out from their shed. But as Joe had to ride 300 miles on Indians on Monday, he was not motivated to move from his spot on the couch.

This picture? The customers wanted it to look like pink marble with blood running back across it.
The CBA Swap Meet at the metrolina was kickass this year, BUT we did not go as that would have taken far too much effort for men. Ah, I only would have spent $$ I didn't need to spend.
But seriously, it meant alot that Joe enjoyed himself while he was here and this place makes it easy to relax.
What is it about a football game on tv that makes a man sleep? I look up from the computer and both David and Joe were both sleeping away as the Panthers played the Falcons. I think NASCAR races have the same effect.
We finally managed to get out of pajamas and into street clothes and went into Charlotte to watch a Checkers hockey game. We almost didn't get to the game as we first went to the wrong stadium, not knowing that the team had moved to the NBA arena in uptown Charlotte.
The arena looked like it has less than 1000 people in it. Kinda sad. The Checkers won 6 to 4. And David and I were on the "kiss cam." They pan around the arena looking for couples and they show on the jumbotron and you're supposed to kiss. Good thing David wasn't sitting next to Joe. Joe is a funny guy. He had us laughing all weekend with his stories.

And now it is Monday and Joe is off to ride new Indian Motorcycles for next 2 days. He wants to do 500 miles today, but will be happy to make atleast 300. He's wearing the new nylon HD FXWG gear and its cold this morning. They'll probably be heading to the NC mountains, so hopefully the FXWG gear will do its job and keep him warm.
As for me, I'm warm and cozy in my old paint spattered HD sweats. I'm about to hit the studio and start working.
I'll try and post some pictures from SEMA in the next few days.
Oh and Rich Evans, custom car and bike builder from California, will be arriving here today.

Back to Reality

I am back from Vegas and its a week since I wrote the first blog entry. I've been updating the website. I do the work myself and it takes time. Mike Lavallee's girlfriend, Nick was constantly working on their website while she was at SEMA. Every time I saw her, she had her face buried in her Ibook. Now I know why. But little by little I will be adding pictures of new work.
And there is alot of it since the site was last updated over 2 years ago. The main task of today is working with Photoshop on drawings. I have 3 drawings to get done. I was going to do them on the plane out to Vegas, but I realized, I really need to use my touch screen monitor to get the best out of these drawings and my Wacum Cintique does not fit in my carry on bag.



And later today, Joe from American Iron Magazine will be arriving here. He's here to check out the new paint shop and stop by the new Crazy Horse Chopper Farm. The Chopper Farm is a full service chopper shop does everything from oil changes, sheet metal fabrication, weld-on hardtails and full on custom bike builds. Go to the Custom Bikes page on my website for more info on the shop and what we offer. The new chopper in the photo is currently for sale $14,000. Email us for more info.
And next week, Joe will be road testing the new Indian Motorcycles for the magazine.

Las Vegas Tales

(This blog entry was written last Saturday night, while I was in Las Vegas.) Does anything normal ever happen in Vegas during SEMA week? Or is it all just endless days and nights of adventure ? One twisted escapade blending into the next until you lose all track of time, and you find yourself asking people what day it is. For most, the week starts out on Monday, setting up the display booth, planning meetings, making lists of tasks : people you need to network with, the desired goals of those meetings, work related research to keep up with what’s current in the industry. It all starts out as serious business. Go forward, get the job done, task accomplished… next.
But somewhere around the middle of the week, the nights of little sleep in a town that truly comes fully alive after dark, takes a toll. Your body running on adrenaline, your mind only half cognizant. Go to dinner with clients or business associates or friends. You tell yourself, ‘After dinner, I’ll go to the room and check emails, then straight to bed to get up early for the show.’ But you’re not really all that tired and decide to make a quick stop by the Circle Bar at the Hard Rock. Just to have one drink and see whose hanging out. Be back at the room by midnight. Good plan. Then suddenly its 3 am and you have to get up at 6:30. By Friday afternoon you realize you haven’t even looked at those lists you made and SEMA will be officially over in less than an hour. Unless of course you are Craig Fraser and carry the Clipboard of Doom with all those lists neatly organized, tasks precisely checked off as they are accomplished. But I am not Craig Fraser. I am the opposite of Craig, making it up as I go along, flying by the seat of my pants and somehow against the laws of the universe, accomplishing the tasks on that forgotten list. An anomaly dependant on fate and luck.
So here I sit on a post SEMA Saturday night in Vegas, boyfriend sleeping peacefully next to me. I’m wide awake as the exhilaration of the week has not yet worn off. Too wired to sleep, too tired to do much of anything else.
Visions of the past week running through my head. Sitting at a table with Kris Krome, his dad telling wild stories. Running into Rich Evans crossing Paradise Rd. Chip Foose standing in front of the convention center, no crowds around him, just another guy looking around, trying to figure out where he needs to be.
We’re in the Earnhardt Suite at Casa Del Gregory, an expansive adobe house on the edge of the mountains west of Vegas. We arrived at 9pm to find a box of cookies and candies on the bed. The cookies were badly needed. What had been planned to be a morning interview today, turned into an all day debacle, complete with interview and 2 photo shoots. I felt guilty taking up so much of Kris Krome’s time, but when you get a great story, you have to run with it and get the most of out it. Sometimes you get one chance and to wait is to lose that chance. The opportunity to tell someone’s story. And when that story is as good as Kris’s, you grab on and don’t let go.
Trying to write about it makes me realize I need to reread some Hunter Thompson. Only the good doctor could truly capture the essence of such an experience. To depict it in words. But that’s how this whole week was.
SEMA is the best of the best. The best car and bike builders, the best painters, the best wrenches, all displaying their hard work. I was overwhelmed by the talent, the artistry at that show. I could go on and on. But I won’t. Not tonight anyway. Its 11 pm here. 2 AM back home in NC. But time doesn’t mean much right now. For those who attended SEMA, it will take several days at home to feel normal again.
So until I have enough displine to write another blog entry, it’s good night from a quiet spot on the edge of the desert. The lights of Vegas sparkling in the distance, a place where time is just another illusion.