I am purchasing a car. Motorcycles are just the coolest, until it rains or something. Rather than wait out for the inevidible, I have recieved a 1976 Oldsmobile Omega F85- $200 and a bicycle, not bad. Signed, sealed and delivered, I picked up the keys today. I love it. It's banana yellow with a tan interior-where there is an "interior", every piece of weather stripping has rotted out, the radio sounds pathetic. It is anemicly under powered and has a busted head light and cracked grill. It kinda smells like pee. In a word, PERFECT. Of course my mind is already in the planning stage and the trim didn't make the trip home. I am actually mixed about the funky '70s hub caps that look like cones used to make some strange cake. In the mean time, its nice just to have a B option that will fire on the first hit of the ignition and sputter to life at my will and not at the prompting of the witch doctor that has been cleansing the bike of bad spirits. I only feel a pange of guilt for removing a form of instant access from a junkie trying to kick to the crack house that spawned him. oh, well. Stay tuned to PIMP my complete piece of shit, my anti-TV reality. -Evan

I'm an e-bay whore.

In a very odd moment I was patroling the third floor of the corprate building I do security work in and literally stopped to smell the roses on someones desk. Just as I pulled my nose from the boquet I could a quizical glance from a woman at her desk two cubes away that. I didn't know anyone was on the floor and felt like I had to explain myself. She just smiled and nodded, I felt a mutual feeling and quitely exited the third floor. It's those little things, those small moments that link our lifes together. I took the long way home the other day from work. I was stuck on the 202 in construction traffic for like 20 ft. before I realized I was on a freedom machine. I exited to mcdowell and rode in light street traffic for 6 miles before hitting Country Club. This is truely where my departure began. I could have taken a right and hit the 202 again, with out the construction traffic and been home in 10 minutes of smooth straight highway traffic. I went left. 120 miles later I arrived at home, I had tackled some of the meanest motorcycle road ever made, a very twisty turny high and low road that seemed to talk to me through the grips. As an added benifit, I needed to use the restroom . I have no problem going on the side of the road except there wasn't one. Just rocks and dropoffs with no room to park a 2ft motorcycle. I took the first T and hung left to Seguaro Lake, they have more than restrooms brother. I walked the shoreline and stood on the floating fishing dock listening to the water lap the boards while I watched cranes skim the surface. For a moment my mind blinked back to all the people in the construction traffic and how I wanted to bring them all here to feel this connected. It isn't really about the motorcycle, it's about letting go to find some meaning. I dream of taking a fuel injected trip up the twisties east of fairview for a soul injection of peace and tranquility, until then I have Canyon Diablo and a hundred other destinations bounced off the map I plan paying no real attention to, because it's not always where your going. Its where YOU are, not where are you.
You lived in Las Vegas long enough to take an extra pull off the tap in spring city and know how great life is. I miss it as much as I never want to go back. Because I have been there and this is one big ball of dirt . I don't want to miss anything. -Evan -

I have a theory. Everyone wants to be the alpha male, to be in the group. Society has carved out a market for people like these selling them things they don't need for way too much money.(think ipod, designer clothes and trendy phones, etc.) The govenment has made use of propoganda to create an ideal image of the group someone should strive to be in. A buttoned down, reserved, hard working, tax paying consumer. That's why when someone drives by in a ratty old jalopy, pops a wheelie or goes over a 100 mph; conversations shift. That so and so, opinions are passed with a bias sense of shameless sense of self promotion. I strive to own nothing for someone else, to do what I want for myself and help others obtain the same sense of freedom brings me joy. The theory is I despise all those that despise my behavior, because we are not the same. The defrentiation is in their mind and not mine. I simply mirrror what I recieve. I think that anyone caught in a white 4-door sedan, with khaki pants and pink hands is either showing their depth or secretly wishs to do more. As machines become increasingly more complicated, people have developed into dopes unable to do anything for themselfs. No longer are the high school dropouts working on cars, college prepped people are taking care of cars no one can afford to own anymore, except life without a car can not be concieved. In short, I don't think people don't like me popping wheelies, I think they hate that they can't or have ignorantly made a decision without any imput. Remember heart disease and lung cancer have always been the number one killlers. Dead motorcyclists don't pay taxes for 70 years though.

My letter to a friend in jail came back today because the pictures are too big. The limit is 4"x6" and I sent whole copies of magazine pages from the last Motorcyclist Magazine documenting the dangerous and incredibly amazing story of road tripping on motorcycle in communist China to the first MotoGP race held in a communist country. I acknowledge that it is my responsibility to check what the rules are before sending mail to an inmate, but I find it odd that such a rule exists. We belong to a world that has grown so taught with law that justice was lost somewhere. We have traded common sense in for a cheap lawsuit. Vote for me, I would like to be your next evil dictator. I couldn't do any worse.
In rural parts of the Utah and Colorado, state officials were having a hard time keeping the Colorado River to flow correctly. Controling mother nature comes at a cost as the loose sandy soil of the river bank began to errode quicker than they could keep the river contained. The solution was to plant a bush, originally found in England. It's tightly bound roots took hold quickly and grew tight to the water front. Within years it grew on both sides of the river bank. Now that the water was perfectly contained it flowed directly to the point where it ran dry while watering the plants that sustained the banks.
Simple moral people. This isn't a Disney film so I won't illiterate.

I saw "Worlds fastest indian" with Anthony Hopkins at the Camelview Harkins. I really enjoyed the film and understand why critics are dogging this film. It is a very passionate view of one very eccentric motorcyclist. You have to love motorcycles or be passionate to arrive at a place of comfort with the concepts provided by the film. For example. In motorcycling the tires are rounded for a reason. To turn the bike extra camber is used to manipulate the spinning gyro affect of the tires. centrifical force of the spinning tires draws a imaginary line of force. Physics dictates that this force holds the bike up right. The driver may feel tempted to "let" the bike row back and forth across the road. My dad explained this as "letting the bike drive" and frowned on such behavior. The positive caster of the front forks and the drag of the weight of front tire pushes the steering input out of line and the spinning front tire pulles it back straight only for the process to repeat as the steering angle is pushed in the other direction. Back to rounded tread of a motorcycle tire. Because the bike is a rolling gyro (hey remember how difficult starting and stopping were when you learned to ride a bicycle, the same gyro I am talking about made riding easy, but starting with out it difficult.) to get the bike to turn you have to move this imaginary line or centrifugal force. The forks are angled out and the tires round to bend the bike over in the turns. Because the tires are round for this purpose, there is very little tire touching the ground and you can only use so much of it. Turning takes force applied to the side of the tread where traction is most limited. Braking when the bike is upright is quickest, because no traction is used for turning. Turning and stopping at the same time is the best way to loose traction(bad) . Keith Code made use of an interesting way to control this. Picture an inverted pendulum with an arrow facing down on the bottom towards an arched real number line -10..0...10. As you turn this pedulum swings with the bike and the numbers the arrows
0..10...0 below them

point to steering percentage and below braking percentage. the ratio of steering to braking is related. It's possible either steer or stop, but becareful when doing both. This is the lesson I learned from the movie, my motorcyle and life in general. In life is only have so much time. No one can do everything they want to do and too much time spent in any one area, might be a waste of the most valuable resource. I wish I had the gift of communication to fully describe how close the relationship is between turning and/or stopping with limited traction is. Time is not a variable, I dare not treat it as such.-Evan the question is am I living my life, or wasting my time?

Wow, it finally happened. I was driving down Indian School road at about 20 miles per hour and the bike just stopped running, there was a loud clunk and as I wheeled the bike off the road it scrubbed off lots of speed. As I put my foot down to steady the dead bike my shoe was filled with hot antifreeze, a reasonably good indicator of what was to come. I pulled the chain out from around the wheel and swing arm and cleared the obstrucing links from the sprocket,but the damage is internal and the wheel bearings will need to be replaced. As for the antifreeze spray I think the wayward links whipped up my water pump and cracked the housing, also freeing my clutch release mechanism. I am fortunate to have good friends. Hollywood secured a trailer at work and helped my pack my cracked cycle home. Six hours of pushing, pulling, walking and waiting has left me with feelings of indifference of something I am quite fond of. I can not disconnect the memory of sweeping through a largly arched and slightly banked turn at high speed and low angles, but I could see myself doing it later in life on a different bike too. My fear is that these years come past too fast. I think that allowing time to pass for a day is a year too long. -Evan

As I sit in my glass lobby contimplating lifes inevidible consequenses my mind shifts into neutral and the big empty volumous concrete cavity in which I reside becomes a tomb filled with small noises and infinite possiblilities. Mysterious machines stirring, whirring and purring set a soundtrack that seems to inspire when listend to too closely. To function with out extensive input. The success of any machine is to task endlessly and in failiure, emotions aside it is removed and discarded without any fan fare of its job completed. Life is about everything else involved. -Evan