Latitudes and Attitudes
	By Modest Mike

Below are some sample articles that I have written for the Florida magazine, Southern Biker Magazine. Southern Biker Magazine serves the Custom Motorcycle enthusiast.

March 1998

Daytona Memories
By Modest Mike

It’s Monday night after Daytona week and I’m back home, sitting here munching Oreos and washing them down with ice cold milk. The cookies are sweet, but not as sweet as the riding was for this years’ get together. I’ve got to admit that freezing, wet, driving rain is not my favorite riding weather and that’s what I remember the most about the previous few Bike-weeks. I’m not saying that I didn’t enjoy hiding-out in the bars and private parties, I’m just sayin’ that I’ve gotten spoiled riding in the mild southern weather. Well, I sure got my druthers this year. Scootin’ with clear skies and T-shirts in the day, and an open jacket at night! Damn, I’ll be using this year as the weather yardstick for awhile.

Speaking of yardsticks, the Rat’s Hole show featured some tricked rides. What stood out, in no particular order:
A Ford 5.0 liter, automatic, 2-wheeler with stainless pipes and simple, clean plumbing (Light weight, no extra crap).
A V-8 Chevy with 2 big nitrous Holly’s sandwiched between the blower and a scoop that stuck up in the middle of where you’d expect to see the fat bobs.
I’m not a big trike fan, but I have to give up a cheer to (Fuzzy) Chip, who was there with his faithful 45inch trike, he don’t give up easy. I’ve seen him and his ride at more bike shows than Harley has yuppy customers.
A sleek, low, black Road King that I rushed past on the way to the Excelsior display across the road. I’d like to get a closer look at that one.
A twin engine Evo, with the big twins mounted side by side and a million hours of machining hooking up the transmission.
A hundred different-but-the-same Evo powered clones with stretched tanks, 200 rear tire, soft-tail frame, some-kinda-drag bars and billet aluminum everything-else. Can’t knock the ubiquitous professional-quality machine work and cool paint jobs though.
A 1928 Harley Davidson with early bicycle style springer. The guy who owned it took a liking to us and started it up. Two kicks - key off, one kick - key on, potato, potato, potato! The sight and sound brought a tear to my eye then and a little chill now. Those exposed valve springs and push rods moved up and down in a happy syncopation (The highlight of my day!).

After Rat’s Hole, we hit the Henderson - Excelsior display close by. They had two pre-production bikes outside to crank and throttle blip. Don’t quote me, but they’re 1380 cc, double overhead chain driven cams with fuel injection. They had excellent throttle response, but somebody in tech should be able to program the injection so it doesn’t blue the pipes so badly (a little petty, I know). The display inside had some older Hendersons which I enjoyed, and I noticed they where playing some films, but didn’t catch them. With all the sun, puttin’ around and seeing the sights was my next priority.

We all have our Daytona habits and traditions, mine are simple and few. I hopped on the Horndog Express (my ’78 hardtail shovel) and proceeded to check off the list. First a run to see Jimbo, out by Cabbage Patch. Jimbo hosts a modest rendezvous with room for a few campers, a clubhouse, kitchen and showers. I met him one particularly cold, rainy Bikeweek when I had planned to camp lean-to style off my bike. He was kind enough to offer the clubhouse couch and I gladly accepted. Since then I visit whenever I’m in town to trade a smoke for a beer. He’s the kind of people you’re lucky to meet on a run. Next stop, Cabbage Patch. Not very crowded today, but I gabbed a beer and started tapping to a Bob Dylan look-a-like playing solo electric. He had a little BB-Vahn-Clapton thing going on and I could tell I wasn’t the only one enjoying it. Two young ladies were swayed to remove there tops and give him a jiggling ovation (I should have learned to play guitar!).

Next on the list is Main Street. Gotta hit the Boothill, didn’t seem to be so crowded this year. They were bustin-balls for colors and patches, so maybe that’s part of it. Froggies was a snug fit, there was a little room in their old parking lot they’ve converted to bars, but tight everywhere else. Dirty Harry’s was where I finely found my Miami buddies drinking. I was able to order Coke’s because Glen had a community flask of rum. For the first time I noticed they had the back door open with a party out back. I’d like to say hello to Barbara the bar wench (can you say yum-yummy). There were two blondes there too that were so hot that the other women were watching them with green eyed stares. How does 02.00 hours come so quickly? At least Denny’s is open.

I go to Daytona because it mixes together three of the things I love the most in life. Bikes, adventure and women with temporary lapses in their moral fiber. Due to technical difficulties with my shovelhead, I was only able to visit a couple days this Bikeweek. However, I was not disappointed. There were more nice bikes than I had time to appreciate, I missed only one night of sleep listening to fellow travelers trying to have sex quietly (by the way, my special thanks to Joe Fitzgerald, Dave and Alice for putting us up for the weekend) and, although I’m still president of the almost-club, I saw more good looking women than Arlen Ness has aluminum shavings. I’m going to Biketoberfest early this year!

‘Till then, don’t be a 15-15 biker, ride the wheel bearings out of that bugger! Modest Mike.


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April 1998

Latitudes & Attitudes
By Modest Mike

Note: The opinions expressed here are not necessarily those of the S.B. management. Names have been changed for obvious reasons. You get to decided how much of this is fiction.

Our version of the breakfast club had come to order. Bobby had come over to drop off the body for the VW trike project and to leave some shake that his buddy had turned him on to. Bobby banged hard on the door, to kill any chance of me ignoring him, and pronounced loudly that Mary J. was in the building. (The descriptive adjectives "asshole" and "a real Bro" came simultaneously to mind.) A couple of cups of coffee and such later, a subject for this article arose.

Bobby, a biker by most peoples’ standards, suggested that I enter the fray with some comments about what makes a real biker and how lucky the newbies are to be allowed around them. I, of course, decided to represent the voice of reason. I pointed out to him that 30 years ago he too was a wannabe. He countered with the observation that yuppies turn up there noses when bikers show up with their old Shovels and Pans in their less than pristine road attire. I asked if he meant like the way he rolled his eyes when he viewed them in their new leathers astride their 20 grand evo.
He complained about their frenzy to throw dollars at the Harley-god’s feet. I reminded him that he had already told me of his plan to build his next bike and sell it for 30 grand to put a down-payment on his apartment-house dream. He lamented about how they rarely offer to share their stash, so I asked him when the last time was that he stayed to talk to them after the smoke had dissipated.

Bobby doesn’t give up easy, so we lit up another cup and continued… If it wasn’t for "them" running up the market price, we could afford a couple of nice bikes, I retorted that if it wasn’t for drugs, sex, rock & roll and not being willing to kiss that suit-wearin’, 9-5, bean-countin’ boss’s ass, we could afford a couple of nice bikes. He asked if I had seen the ridiculous prices that J&P had in their catalog, I stated that if he wasn’t in the trade and didn’t know half of the people who owned motorcycle shops in Dade & Broward County, that he would be paying retail too. Bobby moaned about when choppers were the thing and fat bobs and dresser crap was thrown out instead of bolted on, I reminded him that since I switched to fat bobs, I was always having to stop for him, while he filled his peanut tank 4 times to Daytona.

Now he was getting frustrated and started in earnest. Bobby reflected, how come rubs always whine about how they used to own a bike, or always wanted one, but the promise they made to their dying mother didn’t allow them to ride for the last 5-10 years? How are they riding their sparkling, cookie-cutter evo-clones now? Did they break their word to mom, or did the 700 club put them in touch direct to get permission? Do they even remember, not even appreciated, when it was us "less than desirable elements" that kept Harley alive?

Bobby continued, I remember when you could buy whole bikes for what you now pay for a cheap front wheel; when springers were 12" over instead of 2" under; when you built your own bike with your own hands; when you wore boots to kick bikes and heads, instead of flicking a little start-button; when hotel rooms in Daytona cost $35 and slept 10, when you could swing a cat on Main Street and not hit a cop; blah, blah, blah and the quickest way to get a girl’s father to hate you was to pull up on a motorcycle… well, some things never change… His barrage was devastating, sweat pored down his forehead onto his flared nostrils and commingled with the spittle dripping from the ends of his scraggly beard onto the AWOL mag lying dog-eared on the table. OK!… OK!… chill out Bobby.… Just riddle me this… how many bodacious yuppie women have you been able to cull from the herd… "None! Dammit! That’s what really ticks me off!" Well Bobby, I offered, there’s a lot of new women riders looking for a bad boy to "show ‘em the ropes". That’s right, he answered, pour me a cup and pass me a match and I’ll tell you what I think of that…

Bobby the Biker’s Poem:

Yuppie,Yuppie, down the road,
Looking down your nose at us from that over-chromed cookie-cutter load,
Try as hard as you will, as hard as you might,
But you’ll never quickly be real biker in God’s sight.

Hearken, hear the sounds and truths,
You’ll be no biker till you pay your dues,
Brotherhood found and real friends lost,
You grab the dice and take a toss.

Thousands of miles, thousands of smiles,
Racing and drinkin’, fightin’ and whores,
You’ve gotten your share and maybe some more.
Sometimes you *win and sometimes you lose,
and that’s what they call payin’ your dues.

Biker or wannabe, faker or real
Biker is a title you earn, not one you buy or steal.
Think what you may, think what you want,
I’m a real biker and if you don’t like it, tough! **

(* Winning is when you walk away without a limp.)
(** It may not rhyme, but it’s where it’s at.)


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May 1998

Latitudes & Attitudes
By Modest Mike

Did you catch the "Letters To The Editor" last month in this rag? Another volley of crap targeted against Bikers, from an alleged Daytona resident crying about the "anything goes" Bike Week. Some drivel about the rights of the majority of residents being ignored. Some more misinformation about how the cops allow the Bikers to ignore traffic regulations. What parallel Daytona universe does this spaceman come from? If you think Bikers are catered to, check out the old films about the historic " Daytona 50" car races that helped start this wonderful tradition we affectionately call Bike Week. They blocked off the entire A1A to make the south-bound race leg and then raced north on the beach. The first woman driver in a NASCAR event raced that oval (apparently her husband didn’t know she had borrowed the family sedan to race it). There wasn’t a freakin thing built on the west side of A1A. A guy named Mr. Bill France knew a good time when he saw one and how to turn a buck too. It cost him about a million to build the Int’l Speedway and the residents should be sucking his posthumous prick. Daytona Beach’s mother’s milk is racing, partying and the money spent while doing it.

Bikers understand all of the above. I’ve seen maybe 3 Biker’s in my life that didn’t tip well. Once, the service sucked, the other two were broke from partying and tipping the last bar-wench. In my observations, there’s one thing the average Daytona resident can understand, and that’s being broke. It’s not the Bikers’ fault that the average Daytona resident barely has a high school education and makes about $7.50 an hour. There’s definitely some problems in Daytona, but it’s not the Bikers’ doing. Frankly, there’s probably not more than 5,000 real Biker’s in 50,000 riders that go to Bike Week anyway. Daytona residents should be happy! That’s 45,000 riders with "9 to 5" cash paying jobs ready to dump their dollars in front of every black T-shirt dealer in town. If Daytona residents have a bone to pick with Bikers and their entourage, it’s "why don’t y’all come 4 or 5 times a year?"

Well, while I’m pissed off, another article in a national magazine caught my attention this week. This one titled "Gun Owners Branded A Threat To Mankind". It seems Mr. Goro Aoki of the Japanese National Police Agency says: "There is a problem with the civilian ownership of firearms. The problem must be controlled or it will pose a threat to mankind." (please take a moment and think of Mr. Aoki and his "if the head of the nail sticks up, it must be hammered down" opinions next time you decide to support them by buying a rice-burner). I, of course being here to represent the voice of reason, suggest that we not just stop with guns, let’s remember that swords (which the Japanese once made illegal for anyone who wasn’t a high-born samarai to carry), hatchets, knives, forks, hammers, 2by4s, pipes, chains, electricity, deodorant (ozone depletion?), alcohol, cement-shoes, cars and a million other things are a threat to mankind too. Let’s just get rid of all these other threats to mankind while we’re at it. Stupid experiment, if you ask me.

I’ll tell you how to live a long happy life, stay out of my business and I won’t have to kill you! You can kill someone a whole lot of ways, shooting them is just a case using the right tool for the right job. That’s all it’s about anyway. People who want to take away your firearms now, just want to make it easier to control you by force, or threat of force, later. They want to remove your ability to choose and make you powerless to keep them from stealing your rights and/or property from you. The Japanese don’t have a lock on that market, so watch your own Washington keepers carefully too.

Somehow, I got to thinking about bikes, long hair and beards as I read about the anti-gunners. I’m pretty liberal when it comes to who I’ll party with, a little less when it comes to who I’ll ride with. I prefer seeing bikes on the road than cars. I welcome all the new riders and your pro-biker-rights votes into my wind. To those that find fault with my looks or lifestyle, Please leave me, my old Harley, my scraggly hair/beard and my heater alone. Nuff said, you’ve been warned.


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June 1998

Latitudes & Attitudes
By Modest Mike

Note: The opinions expressed here are not necessarily those of the S.B. management. Some names are changed for obvious reasons. You get to decided how much of this is fiction.

Was flipping through my treasure trove of motorcycle miscellany that I lovingly refer to as "the pile of crap on the dining room table" when I spied some stats collected from "Cycle World Magazine’s Annual Readership Study". The official numbers read as follows:

" Purpose for which Street Motorcycles are used "
Day Trips *************************************************************** 80 %
General Transportation *********************************** 58 %
Long Distance Touring ************************ 35 %
Sport Touring ***************************** 32 %
Racing ******************* 7 %
Fun/Recreation **** 2 %


" Subscriber Personally Rode " -------------------- < Other Household Member Rode >
13 % ride less than 1000 miles per year. -------------------- 9 %
32 % ride from 1000 to 3000 miles per year. -------------- 7 %
11 % ride more than 10,000 miles per year. --------------- 1 %


" Of those taking a ride longer than one day "
58 % took a ride 2 to 3 days long.
26 % took a ride 4 to 6 days long.
16 % took a ride 7 or more days long.


Now, there are three kinds of liars: liars, damn liars and statisticians. I heard once that it was not prudent to believe everything you read, so I wanted a second opinion. Fortunately, Bobby the Biker happened by for breakfast, on his way home from partying. I served him his coffee hot, sweet and white and he lit his breakfast offering. As the overhead fan stirred the smoke into the warming air, I took the opportunity to get his objective view. "Hey Bobby, take a look at this. Whacha think about these numbers?", I baited. (Bobby’s glassy-eyed look reminded me of Sam Elliott in the movie Road House. "There will be plenty of time to sleep when I’m dead.", was the line. But I’d known him too long to be fooled by his groggy appearance.)

"O.K.", he started, "The last numbers add up to 100, that’s usually a good sign. I notice that those that ride less than 1000 miles have the highest percentage of other-household-members that ride. Does that mean, if your ol-lady rides too, that you never want to?", he queried. "And, Oh Yeah, I noticed they got the headings in " Purposes for which bikes are used " mixed up. They got Day-Trips at 80% and we all know that’s where Fun/Recreation should be. And if they had changed it to Night-Trips, we all would have had to check that box! Next, what-up-wid-dis touring stuff, ain’t that all part of General-Transpo? I generally-transpo myself to Daytona 3 or so times a year and I generally-transpo myself to the Keys and to the Smoky Mountains when I’m in the mood. And, I don’t even see the most important headings of stickin-it-to-the-man and cooter-chasing, that’s 99 % of my riding miles!"

I smiled knowingly, I would have checked some of the same boxes as Bobby. It warmed the cockles of my heart to know that he was there to shine a halogen headlamp at the statisticians and point out the danger in blindly believing all of their number-crunching propaganda.

On A Different Note:
I attended a bike show held recently at Mad Jack’s bar & grill in Miami Lakes. It was a warm, luxurious, Sunday afternoon. I saw only a few people I knew, but the bikes & babes were plentiful. My buddies Sportster Craig, Debbie and bike builder Glen Kottman were present. Glen had his trick yellow dually there (Glen does solid, imaginative work). There were bands playing outside and a bikini contest inside. Craig and I supervised the selection of the winner with the appropriate adlibs and toasts. The official standings were: 1st. Ingrid, 2nd WhoCares. (I find it a strange coincidence that I haven’t thought of another women since.) I good time was had by all. Well, that was my Sunday’s opinion.

Now Biker Bobby suggested that Biker-friendly was not just a term to use on Sundays, so I returned to check.:
Wednesday’s opinion was cut short on account of the male review being held for ladies night and the cover charge. I don’t like male reviews so I left.
Thursday’s opinion was war-of-the-bands night, part 2 with cover charge. AESIR (the name means the group of northern gods like Thor, etc.) won top honors with Famous Johnson next in audience appreciation. I liked Stingy Midgets too, their Black Sabbath cover was well done.
Friday’s opinion was that if you don’t accidentally meet Tim (the manager) at the door, the security won’t let you in with a T-shirt. There is also a cover charge. Now, if you’ve made it through the gauntlet, you’ll find a hot little-latin-disco, ear-pounding, young-babe hangout.

What I like about Mad Jack’s: Ingrid (works there on Fridays, is truly hot), Tim (the manager, only friendly guy that works there), the sound system (plenty-o-watts) and the young, female-customers.

What I dislike about Mad Jack’s: Dress-codes, cover charges, security that aren’t bikers.

Do with this information what you will and PLEASE ride Often and Safely.

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July 1998 Latitudes & Attitudes By Modest Mike

Hi Y’all. Orders have come down from the top brass to keep the articles short. Maybe they got complaints about my long dissertations and assorted bitching & moaning the last few months, or maybe it’s just economics, anyway here goes ...

Anyone who hasn’t logged a few miles on the "information super-highway" by now, must have their head under a rock. I not saying that you have to enjoy it, I can understand that to some folks it’s confusing, if not just plain boring. Just don’t forget that "information is power." One common question that I hear is "What can I find there that would interest me?". The answer is "More information about your particular special interests than you want to know!". Cuz we love motorcycles, I’ll be more specific. Infoseek (a popular web search program) found 2,087,725 pages of information containing the words "southern biker". I looked through some of the sites and here’s a few good ones:

Links for Harley & Indian Lovers: http://www.televar.com/~rownby/hd.html
Indian Riders Homepage: http://www.intcomm.net/~ndnrider/ndnrdr1.htm
http://www.indian.on.ca/indi_index.html

AWOL Magazine: http://www.demon.co.uk/awol/index.html
EasyRider Magazine: http://www.easyriders.com/
Bandit's BikerNet: http://www.bikernet.com/
Rat’s Hole Chopper Show 1998: http://www.ratshole.com/magazine.html
Daytona Biker Map: http://www.netctrl.com/~henry/bikemap.jpg


Omni Magazine Outlaw Biker Interview: http://www.omnimag.com/archives/features/bikers/3.html

Motorcycling in Central Florida. Events & Rides June 14, 1998 - Orange County Cruisers Flag Day Run SLICK'S SCOOTER SCHEDULE FLORIDA BIKE EVENTS Sponsored in Part by: BORN TO RIDE: http://pages.prodigy.net/fragglex/events1.htm

Ed Ryan Harley-Davidson/Buell Pro Stock Racing Team: http://www.edryanracing.com/
Dragracing Info: http://www.dragbike.com/
http://www.dscyclesupply.com/
http://www.americandragbike.com/
http://www.racepages.com/index.htm
http://www.nhraonline.com/index.html
http://www.angelfire.com/az/RivasRacing/index.html


The National Association for Bikers with a Disability: http://www.bikenet.co.uk/html/nabd.html


Trike Lovers: http://trike.pages.de/

That’s just what I found in a couple hours of searching, so give it a go. If you don’t have a computer or internet connection, the Museum of Science in Miami has machines available for you to use and/or I’m sure one of your riding buddies is a closet "Cyber-Biker". If you want to see my first attempt to go online, point your browser to my homepage, http://www.oocities.org/motorcity/speedway/2535 or E-Mail me at mmike@gate.net. Southern Biker Magazine has a homepage at http://www.nrmall.com. You can E-Mail our Senior Editor, John Nanstiel, at nanstiel@aol.com and/or our South Florida Editor, Miami Mike, at miamike@aol.com. Till next time; LIVE, LOVE, LAFF!

P.S. I need your help! I’d like to write an article on a fire-breathing, 120 cubic inch plus, V-twin, street/strip monster, but I don’t know anyone who has one or is building one. If you know anyone, or have a suggestion for an article, please e-mail me.

E-Mail us your questions & comments.