Bike Week 2009 Blog - The Day Before

For those that don't know us, we're a lil ol' magazine named Dixie Biker Illustrated covering what bikers do in the northern half of Florida. The word Illustrated is in our name for a reason, namely cuz we take lotsa pictures. Since we be po' white scooter trash from the Southland, our spelling and grammer may not be up to some 'elitest' standards, but pictures don't lie. And we take lotsa pictures.
Welcome to our Bike Week Blog. I'm gonna try and do it every morning before we head out for the day or evening, but who knows if I'll be able to maintain the schedule. Shit happens, ya know? A couple six or seven ABs (adult beverages), a little late night-early mornin' carousin' and who knows what y'all might get for the day. Plus I may be sleepin' in and forget all about the blog post for the day. Oh well. We'll do our best.

Wedensday, February 25 was two days before Bike Week, we'd gotter our two magazines to print, bills paid, bus cleaned up and parked at Deadwood Saloon and all our party supplies ere loaded up for our parties next week. I had a 'free' day to just kinda chill. Right. Turned out I didn't get a 'free' day to goof off and relax. I hadda take Boots to Mt. Dora from Daytona Beach so her girlfriend, CheezeStyx, could work her magic on her hair for Bike Week. Boot's still can't drive due to her broken left leg (She's got one of 'em little Mitsubishi Spyders with a manual tranny), so I had to do the drivin' chores. An hour and a half over there, two or three hours gettin' 'color' in her hair and an hour and a half ride back so she can get her hair done for Bike Week. Man! Plus, she's gonna be ridin' two up on our DixieGlide, she doesn't wear a helmet, we haul ass on lotsa back roads, but she's gotta git her friggin' hair "Hot for Bike Week?!!?" Man, gimme a break. But y'all know women and I reckon that's 'bout 'nuff said. Jeez. Hair hot for Bike Week when she's gonna be ridin' all the time. With no helmet. Holy moly,
So the trip's goin' fine til we hit the little town of Pine Lakes on Hwy 44 just west of the St. Johhn's River. Traffic's at a standstill. After about fifteen or twenty minutes of waitin' an ol' boy pulls up in a pickup and told us two dump trucks, a semin fullla fuel and a pickup truck hadda nasty accident. "You're gonna hafta go back to Hwy 42 and go around, man. Cops say it's gonna be three hours."
Man. We called CheezStyx, told her we were gonna be a little late and headed back east, hooked a left and headed to Paisley on Hwy 42. Pretty road for ridin' if you're lookin' for some twisties and some nice countryside. (and there's a great place to cool your engine just on the west end of town - The Pirate's Pub - year round biker friendly hangout. Anyhow, we're just cruisin' down Hwy 42 when I slam on the brakes and do a u-ey in the middle of the road. "What the hell are you doin', Boots explained, spillin' a little natty light in her lap. "Damn, Monk!"
You didn't see that house back there," I asked. "Dude's got penises growin' in his front yard and I gotta git a picture for next month's Nuts an' Bolts section of the magazine."
She was kinda speecless, but after nine years on the magazine, she's used to this kinda thing. "Well, next time warn me, asshole!"
So I went back and took a picture of the penises growin' in this guys front yard. Guess some folks got lots of time on their hands . . .

So after I got the picture it was back on the road to Blow Hair Salon in Mt. Dora. I dropped Boots off, her and Cheezestyx were jabberin' away about highlights and low lights and wispy and sassy and all kindsa shit I know nuthin' about so I hauled ass to hook up with our Lake County writer, Hark, and grab some lunch at The Frosty Mug in Mt. Dora. We discussed some plans for the Leesburg Bike Fest next month then he hadda haul ass and I still had a couple of hours to kill.
"What the hell," I thought, "I'll run over to Gator Harley-Davidson, say "Hey" to the Mailiks and see what.s happening." I had a couple of hundred of our Bike Week Guides in the trunk and figured I'd dropp some off for our readers.
Well I'm wanderin' around the store and there's a whole lotta folks buyin' stuff, lookin' at this an' that and fillin' the Harley Shop. We spent twelve years in Germany while I was in the Army, plus we have German friends that visit every year (many of y'all have met Bobby and Biggy), and this large group definitely looked European to me. I wandered up to a fellow wearin' a shirt with this on the front and said, "Y'all ain't from 'round heah, now ar' ya?"

Dude looked at me with a stange expression and said, "Please. I didn't understand."
So I gave him a break and asked seriously, "You have a pretty big group. Are you from Europe?"
"Yes, we're from Norway and Sweden. A minute. I get the chief." And he was off.

A few minutes later a tall, lanky dude in shorts, leather zip up boots, unzipped, a leather jacket on and big ol' video camera hangin' off his shoulder walks up, hand extended and says, as I shake his hand, "Hi. My name is Arve Stallvik (only reason I know that is cuz he wrote his name and info down in my book. I sure could pronouce it!) and I'm the Tour Director of our crew of Harley riders. We've just ridden in from Los Angeles."

"Holy shit! LA. Wow. No kiddin'!"

He went on to explain he operated the World's Largest Route 66 Tour Company, and they were Eagle Rider's biggest customers every year. How 'bout that. I ended up gettin' this group shot:

Last summer he brought over 1,000 bikers from Sweden and Norway. They fly into Chicago, pick up Harleys, then ride Route 66 to LA. The entire route. How cool is that? Wonder how many American bikers have done that.

They stay very busy from May to September, obviuosly, and they they have a couple of other tours each year. This one was flying into LA, picking up bikes from Eagle Rider and ridin' from LA to Orlando along a southern route, Ten days, 3,0000 miles. Wow. I reckon Eagle Rider needs the rental bikes in Central Florida for Bike Week so they probably got a pretty good rate. Anyhow, we chit chatted and then I got a couple of shots of them pullin' out to head to Orlando to turn in the bikes. They were staying through Bike Week, only in cars, and said they'd drop by our party at Trader Jack's on Saturday, Feb, 28th. I'll let y'all know if they show up. The coolest things happen and you meet the coolest folks when you least expect it. THis is why I could never stop ridin' (even though that day I was in Boots' car.) Ya never know who you'll meet or what you'll see around the next curve or at the end of the day's ride.

From Gator Harley I dropped by and shot the shit with one of my bros, Doug, Cheezestyx's husband, since I figured I still hadda an hour to kill. When I pulled up to his shop he was changin' fluids in his Road Glide gettin' ready for Bike Week. "Wassup?" I said as strolled in the shop.

"Waitin' on gears and other parts for these two jobs," he said as he pointed out some busted up gears and a chevy van. Doug makes gears, tranny's, struts, shocks and all kinds a shit I don' know nuthin' about for four wheelers, mudders, boggers, bikes, choppers and even for those pimped up, blinged out Escalades and shit with 24" wheels on 'em. "This dude's got these 28" wheels and tore out the whole rear end," he said as he showed me a buncha gears with chewed out teeth. "And of course he has to have tomorrow."

"Well, ya gotta make the money when ya can," I said. "What's it cost to have you machine new gears and shit like that?"

"Depends" he said, "On how much machinin' I gotta do and buncha of other stuff. But it's no problem for this guy. Those wheels and tires ... $14,000." Doug musta seen my jaw drop cuz he said, "Yeah, man. Those wheels and tires alone cost almost as much as my Road Glide."

"Damn, man. We ain't doin' something right. I sure can't afford that shit!" I said, shakin' my head. Wow."

My cell rang as I was still tryin' to sort out 14 grand for a set of wheels, I answered and Boots asked, "Where ya at?" That's what she said, but ya gotta be able to read between the lines and what she was really askin' was, "Where in the hell are you?! I'm done and you better get yer ass over here." I did.

I picked her up and on the way back to Daytona stopped in at the Oasis Saloon on Hwy 46 in downtown Sorrento to say "Hey" to Jeff, the owner, and drop off some of our Bike Week Guides. Great little local waterin' hole on the country by-ways. As I'm walkin' back out to the car, I hear a shout, "Hey, Monk!" I turn around and the dude says, "Yeah, it really is you!!" He points to his buddy and says, "See I told you that was Monk! Told ya, told ya, told ya ... you owe me a beer. Ha ha."

Then he turns back to me and says, "This is too cool. I know I'd see you at the Bike Week Kick Off party at Trader Jack's on Saturday, but to see you today is awesome. Love the magazine, man, and one of these days I'm gonna get my picture in there."

"What's wrong with right now?" I asked. "Lemme get my camera outta the car." I came back and snapped a couple of shots. That's FMP Bobby on the left and his bro, Chris. And then, after I take the picture, Bobby's complainin' "Damn! I'm finally gonna have my picture in DBI and I ain't even got my biker clothes on."

"What's your point?" I asked. "Clothes don't make a biker. It's in your heart, man. Who gives a rats ass what you're wearin'?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right,"

As I headed back out the the car I thanked 'em for readin' and told 'em, "Get my attention on Saturday when you're in your "Biker gear" and I'll get another picture. We appreciate the support. Thanks for readin'"

Then it was on into DeLand and we're gettin' hungry so we stopped for a 'quick' burger, fries and cold one at Trader jack's Roadside where we're havin' our party on Saturday, and after finishin' the chow and just as we're leavin' Lisa, the owner, comes around the corner, hugs our necks, orders another round and yada yada yada .... Three hours later we were finally headin' back to the coast. But y'all know that's a good thing. Hangin' with good folks at a good place with no time contraints. Gotta enjoy it and take it while you can.

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On Thursaday, February 26th, my son Phillip and I began distribution of the March issue of Dixie Biker ... to be continued after I fill my belly!

Phil delivered the magazines to our South Central and West moto-journalist while I headed to Palatka, Jacksonville and points in between. Whew - what a long day in traffic, especially in Jacksonville. Had to head all the way over to the beach in Mayport to visit Jax Biker Gear to pick up some of our give-aways, shirts, hats, toboggens and more. Than it was to Tim and Christy's house to drop off mags, invoices and money for them. Then it was on to I-95 to head back south. There were lotsa trailers haulin' bikes and I think there's gonna be a good turn out for Bike Week. The weather's been so crappy up north this winter and even though the economy sucks, I think folks have save up and are on their way ...

I stopped the White Eagle (above) on the way home to drop off the March issue of Dixie Biker and a couple of bundles of the Bike Week Guide, and they already had quite a crowd. Remember, the official start of Bike Week is Friday and this was Thursday night. But the White Eagle Lounge is an always happenin' place and one of our favorite hangouts, not only during Bike Week but throughout the year.

After a cold one and a walk around to check out the vendor set ups, I headed south on US Hwy 1 towards Ormond Beach. The traffic mess at Destination Daytona was already in play, but the full brunt of this bottlwneck won't be felt til the weekend, and doubly choked the weekend of March 6 - 8. The bikes below are coming out of Destination Daytona to head south.

Above - On US Hwy 1 between Destination Daytona and the Ormond Strip. Below - I dropped off mags at Finnegan's Tavern and Deadwood Saloon and then headed home It'd been along day and tomorrow is the start of Bike Week -- gotta get geared up for that.