Sunday evening post...

Heres a few for you to view before the week is through....I'm not a poet and I know it!

live fast die young

This video is unreal.

Last of the motohicans...

They say the first shall be the last, I don't know who "they" are and I don't know what they meant by last, was it last meaning last or last meaning last! I do know the first American motorcycle company was Indian motorcycles (Hendee Co.), and they were built to outlast even the companies own existence. Indians are in a class of their own, and if you own one you are a part of the tribe. One of the allures of the Indian bikes to me personally is that most Indian owners are older men, and they aren't part of some scene or wanna be tough guy biker trend. They are guys that have been around these bikes for many years, and who enjoy passing down the knowledge and stories of the indian bikes, there are only a few respected gentleman out there in the world that are in the know of these motorcycles and whats what when it comes to knowing the separate year makes and models and even all the minor or major manufacturing differences throughout the lifespan of the company. When I hear old men talking about these bikes at swap meets or shows, you can bet your ass I stop, lean in for a close listen, and do my very best to retain the lesson that is being taught. I bought my Indian form an old southern man in Alabama, and he was a motorcycle guy through and through in his late 80's with grease under his fingertips from working in the garage restoring old indians and Triumphs. When he sold me that bike he gave me a few hand written pages of loose leaf paper with all the parts he had used and all the tech tips he learned on keeping this particular bike operating the way it was supposed to. He also handed me an old school Indian rider instruction book that was no more then 20 pages, and in those 20 pages enough information was given to perform maintenance and repair of your bike. Driving home form Alabama I flipped through the pages of the book and thought to myself, this little pocket sized instruction book is my new best friend, and my introduction in to the tribe. Slowly but surely I have learned about damn near every part of my Indian, and anyone that has ridden with me knows i'm not scared to ride it either. Old indians never die! . I have fallen in love with this company its rich history and the people who are still carrying the torch keeping the defunct brand alive in their hearts and spirit...Old Indians never die!

the wheels are turning..

It’s always awesome to see a project finally start to take shape. For close to 2 years now Viva Luxury and I have seen this project start and stop and dealt with issues that almost had us completely give it up. That’s all I have for now. More info soon so stay tuned!!

kaleidoscope eyes...

In a land far from that traveled by the weekend warrior, there is a trail off the beaten path were I like to spend my 2 days of supposed leisure. The lure of the weekend treasure hunt, and of what value will the treasure bring,"usually not monetary?!". I spend most of my weekends searching for new places to search for new old things, flea markets, farmers markets, yard sales, antique shops, thrift shops, or abandoned buildings. Im awarded small pieces of peace and happiness on these journeys, be it just chit chatting with older americans about random junk they are selling, finding a trinket that means absolutely nothing to the rest of the world but its the coolest thing ever to you and the seller says "that will be 50cents", enjoying the fresh air, fresh foods, people watching, spending family time, seeing and being inspired by "junk". It's a jailbreak from the confines of the corporate jail cell we call modern day life, where we are ignorantly directed to live a cookie cutter life in a repeat fashion to generate revenue in controlled cycle. Walking aisles of tables and boxes filled with antiques, trash, clothing, collectibles, etc.. it all seems to become one big kaleidoscope of flea market mania, but my mind is processing it, filtering it, until a light comes on and says stop you have found something that you may like. Which then usually leads to a conversation of price, and if I'm lucky a little history lesson on the new purchase. I try to be a student of the world and most importantly the American folk that came before me, and the ideas and lives they lived. I've learned that most everything has already been done, and it makes no sense to me to try and reinvent the wheel, so I search endless in the daytime with a flashlight for pre-me american bits of inspiration, and ideology that I can condition in to my modern way of life and thinking. I feel a sense of freedom in these places, they're below the radar, or off the grid and its just old fashion human interaction, bartering, talking. America is usually alive and well in these places, There are always american flags flying and people walking around with flags on their shirts and hats, (might not be the most fashionable attire, but the pride is there.) I feel safe in these places being around genuine people who have the same passion for these things just looking to make a few bucks, and or survive the week, without the corporate hand pushing and pulling me to spend it in their domain. To end this post with a little humor and or momento: It is common practice for vendors to give little children at the flea market toys, dolls, books, etc. stuff for free while walking up to their table, these little toys light up my daughters eyes, and she'll carry her new friend around for the rest of the day telling me how much she likes her new dolly, or santa, or car, or book, or stuffed animal, or hat, or mickey, or...You get the idea, we have to start getting rid of her free collectibles given by people at the flea market, no money made just the joy of seeing a little one light up!