You, sir, are an enabler! …but it does have wire-spoke rims…my god those doors! Of course, it doesn’t have the babycakes appeal of the real deal Holyfield:
That’s my now-no-longer-little bro doing his best safe-driver impression. The Marquis had no hubcaps, but I do recall the rear wheel skirts coming off during a high-speed maneuver.
Oh, Red. You were such a beauty… Classic BMW mechanics take note: when changing the oil/filter, if the bike uses the old split model filter, make sure the inner o-ring/seal comes out prior to putting the new filter cartridge back inside the engine. Image was taken less than a week after I’d bought it from Richard Apple of Atlanta, and I hope he DIAF never does maintenance on an M/C again. Rode it home from Atlanta, and riding with a friend a day or so later (going to show it off to other friends, natch), the throttle wasn’t really responding. Feeding gas did nothing as the engine spun down and finally seized. Got it to my buddy’s house, and found the engine oil was filled with pretty metal sparkles! Removed and blueprinted the engine but had to give it away due to a move to…
Okinawa, baby! The Luce was one of the nicest cars I’ve ever driven, a turbo, plenty of room, great stereo (with a faceplate that dropped down to reveal a CD player), just an all-around beautiful ride. Parked here at Maeda Point in preparation for a night dive.
Big Bertha the wonderbike, somewhere around the Panoche Valley in CA. Got back from JP and needed wheels–picked up Bertha ('94 R1100RSL) at Blue Moon Cycles in Atlanta for a song and rode the hell out of it. Did at least 40K in the first 8-10 months of ownership, I rode that bike left, right, and center:
Packed up and moving east from Cali, headed over those mountains, past Death Valley, intending to camp…somewhere out there. That ride began to get me from West Coast to East Coast and wound up taking ~4 months and another 12-15k miles.
Somewhere in the mountains of Arkansas, I had to pull over to get a shot of that road. Springtime, maybe 50 degrees, nobody else on the road, absolutely beautiful all around.
Texas. Cold and wet and flat and why the hell anyone would choose to live in that state is beyond me. I understand the Gov’nur is quite a guy. His name is…uh…well…oops.
Just prior to shipping overseas again I was out on a ride on the Eastern Shore of DelMarVa, and saw this green beauty for sale. I was expecting to return to the states in wintertime and needed a car…picked up that '50 Chevy (Powerglide) Deluxe for something like $1500. Built like a tank and just as fast, suicide knob on the steering wheel was absolutely necessary at low speeds, vacuum lines for the windshield wipers were near nonfunctional so the driver/passenger had to reach through the dash and manually stimulate the wiper linkage to see through the rain. Loved that car, and it was destroyed because someone (you know who you are) didn’t check the dusty-dry brake fluid rez before taking her out for a spin.
The Pimpdaddy ('94(?) Buick LeSabre) on the northeastern side of Yellowstone NP. Solid, dependable car that was much-flogged and yet never uttered a complaint. Handed down from an awesome human being that’s no longer with us (Uncle Dave, you were the shit), the only weird thing with the Pimpdaddy was that the a/c would sometimes get a mind of its own and start blowing hot air on the passenger (split A/C controls). I always thought it was because Pimpdaddy didn’t like them and wanted to show it…
Big Blue, '04 R1150RT. Adjustable windshield, heated everything, carries a boatload of stuff when needed…I picked up Blue in Texas a few years back just following some massive springtime rains and the whole state was awash in wildflowers. Still don’t like TX, but whatevs. First day riding back north and east, I stopped to grab a pic of said flowers and heard a “THUMP”. Take note, riders: plant the kickstand on firm ground, and if the 700+ pound m/c falls over and lands with the handlebars below the wheels, searing rage and humiliation will be the only way to right that particular ship. And while I absolutely do not expect any help in such a case, Texans who stopped to help lift the bike out of the ditch: 0. Texans who threw empty beer cans at me: 1. Yay Texas.
Needed four wheels, needed four-wheel-dependability, and the Subbie fits nicely. I’ve rocked heavy snow, torrential downpours, and broken ground in her–I love that car!
Two more pics:
Taken from my buddy’s garage, far left is a '72 BMR /5, middle '04 R1150RTP, and right '79 R100/6. The crank from the /6 is sitting on my bookshelf, and the other two engines are being prepped for frame reentry when spare time permits. And money. And non-bloodied knuckles.
Taken in Golden Gate Park in SF–that city never disappoints.
