Sunday with Timmo!

   After my recent dealings with carb issues and a funky ass charging problem, all I wanted to do was get out on the road for a bit. A nice, long ride sounded spectacular. Due to my excessive gardening the night before, I slept in..much needed rest anyhow. The long days and back breaking work of a tattooer really take their toll, well, not really..I just have poor health and like to sleep when I have the opportunity. I may, in fact, be lazy.
   10:30 rolls in and I call my buddy Tim, tell him I heading to the farm. I kick the Slayer to life and hit the road. A short cruise on the freeway and some country roads lead me to my destination. Timmo is up, hangin out, nothing to do on a Sunday. Let's head to the shop for a few! He pulls out Priscilla, his shovel, and we prepare for liftoff. T-minus 1 cigarette.
   We cruise the backroads to the JTO compound, an awesome day for a putt. Not too hot, not too chilly. Perfect. We arrive in time for an invite to lunch with Jamey and the twins, fuck yeah! I like food. Burgers: engage!
   After a quick lunch, Papa and the twins headed for home while Timmo and I set out to find some trouble. Where the hell should we go....Hmm.....howsabouts the bar? Ok! We rode maybe a mile to the local watering hole where Aaron's woman works and ordered up a whiskey and a beer each. One of each turned into two of each and our motors were primed. Let's get!
   No real destination in mind, Timmo offered up dinner at his farm. No way I could contest. We zipped out to the farm and and quickly dropped anchor on the couch, sharing laughs and bullshitting about daily life. The ever so elusive Cyndi was also in attendance and shared in our conversation. I hadn't talked to her in WAY too long! We played a bit of catch up and decided it was time for a bit of gardening.
   After pulling many a weed, things started to slow down a bit, as they often do. Timmo fired up the barbecue and made us some good ass something or other. I don't really remember what it was, picking produce makes me forgetful. Nonetheless, I fucked up whatever was on my plate. I do remember it being delicious!
   The sun started going down and that was my queue to hit it. My tired, red eyes were starting to close more and more. I said my goodbyes, handed out the customary hug and handshake, and hit the road. Destination: home.
   It had been WAY too long since I had been out to the farm, and I'm stoked that Timmo invited me. It's always a blast hangin out with him because, well..he's a rad motherfucker! I need to make The Farm a more frequent destination.
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Carburetor hijinks!

   So holy shit..it has been God damn FOREVER since my last update..not from a lack of shit to write about, but from a lack of GOOD shit to write about. Let's see if I remember how to do this..
   Ok, so! Since the first fire of the Slayer, I've had carb issues..I could never get my carb to perform properly. I started with a mikuni that came with the bike, the damn thing ran great going down the road, but wouldn't idle worth a shit..no vacuum leaks anywhere, running rich at idle, but would sneeze like it was lean. WTF!? Ok, fuck this, I've had that carb apart a million times trying to figure out the issue, time to swap it out.
  My good friend and confidant, Timmo, has a stock Bendix that needs a rebuild and some love, I'll take it. (thanks brother!) I rebuild the Bendix under the close supervision of Timmo (so I don't fuck anything up), and slap that thing on. My carb issues are over! Wrong. Same damn problem. Runs great down the road, won't idle for shit, sneezes out the carb, and dies. What. The. Hell. Like the mikuni, I took the Bendix apart a shit ton of times, manifold on and off, nothing..Papa and I went by the book as far as adjusting..I made more phone calls than I can count..at this point, I'm frustrated as shit.
   One evening, I'm bitching and describing my issues to Pretty Eyes, and out of the kindness of his heart, he offers to loan me his super b. Holy hell, what a guy! I accepted his offer and thought, "Fuck yeah, this oughta do it!" He dropped off the s+s the next day and I slapped it on that night. Moment of truth....one kick, roars to life. Shit, that's a good sign! I do some adjusting, trying to get the idle down where its supposed to be, ah-choo! She sneezes out and dies...ok, maybe its not warmed up all the way..I take a couple laps around the neighborhood and try again. Not happening. I'm having the SAME DAMN PROBLEM with three different carbs! How can this be? Its a goddamn mystery of modern science. I wanna die. I slapped the Bendix back on and said fuck it.
   Thursday comes and Pat and I ride to Dave Almighty's house with a couple of brain busting issues. Pat's strange ass chain slap issue, and my 3 carbs deep idle issue. The Kafton will know. The Kafton ALWAYS knows. I hung out for a couple hours, drank a couple of tall cans and watched Pat and Dave tinker and try to diagnose a problem which ended up being DEEP in Pat's transmission. Pat has been DYING for a good reason to pull his tranny again. Full rebuild, coming right up! Anyways, his shit is figured out, I'm up..it had gotten late and I didn't really want to make The Great Wizard work any later than he already had, but he cast a spell on me and forced me to pull up my bike. I described the issue and he had me start the Slayer, he asked for a screwdriver. I handed him one and he quickly went to work, for hours he slaved away tirelessly on my bike, cursing the day it was built..ok, not really..it took him about 15 seconds to find and fix my problem. One quarter turn richer. Are you kidding me?! It took him mere seconds to negate the work I had done in the weeks and days prior. I didn't see a wand, but I'm sure there was some form of sorcery involved. Shit man..
   With all said and done, I am VERY happy with the Bendix, accelerator pumps are AWESOME. Thank you very much, Timmo, for the carb (I owe you!), thank you Papa for the help and listening to me complain, and thank you Dave for making me look like a real dumbass! Not only does the Slayer rip ass going down the road, thanks to Mr. Kafton, she now also idles nice and low! I'm stoked!
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Sunday ride!

   Once was written, a story of a man. A man named Moses. This man led a shit ton of Israelites away from Egypt and away from a bunch of pissed off Egyptians. One part of this story tells of the Red Sea parting before Moses as he led the Israelites to safety. This story is the book of Exodus.
   The following excerpt is our book of Exodus. Sunday morning came and I kicked life into my bike. I met with George and Willie at a nearby fuel stop. We made tracks and headed to lodi. Papa, Jack, and Aaron awaited our arrival at the JTO laboratory. We exchanged hugs and hello's, had a cup of "coffee", gassed up, and hit the trail. Just as the fabled Moses led the Israelites across the desert, so too did Papa lead us, his rag tag group of motoring retards.
   We headed north. Then east, I'm guessing.. Ok, I have no fuckin clue where we were most of the time. Bear with me here.. The sun was shining and the roads were kind, aside from the serious hang time I had from a BIG ass bump. One hand on the bars, one hand taking pictures, my ass high off my seat. Oh shit!! We made our first stop at The Sloughhouse Inn. Big ass beers: engage.
   We departed The Sloughhouse and headed for Jackson. Just as the Red Sea parted before Moses, so too did the hills part before Papa. Giving way to the winding roads that led us on into Jackson. Not quite Mt. Sinai, but another bar was just fine. We again indulged in the finest of spirits Anheuser-Busch has to offer. Nectar of the gods.
   After we re-hydrated, lunch was in order and we headed up the street to find the healthiest meal this town could offer. Some massive hamburgers drenched with chili, covered in onions. Gut bombs on a plate. Just as the Red Sea swallowed up a fuckload of Egyptians, so too did we swallow up our bounty of diarrhea inducing vittles. We waddled our way out the door and painfully straddled our bikes. Let's head for home.
   The ride home was smooth and fast except for all of the fuckin Egyptians on the road driving like assholes. Willie split off and headed home while the rest of us sped onward. One last stop, El Rancho in lodi. One last beer. We did the deed and headed for the door. We traded hugs and goodbyes and hopped on the bikes. Aaron stayed behind, Jack and Papa returned to the shop, George and myself made our way south. I was Stockton bound, George: Manteca. We parted ways at my exit, blowing kisses in the wind...in my head anyways..
   Sunday was a pretty damn good time. It was Aaron's first real ride and a good one at that. We did somewhere around 120 miles and had no breakdowns or issues. A shit ton of fun. For all of the homeboys who didn't make this ride, goddammit, you better be there on the next one!!
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Motherlode Earth Day Festival!

   Our very own Willie Mandela has a brother, and that brother happens to be a musician. His band, Family Folk Explosion, will be preforming at the Motherlode Earth Day festival on April 20th 2013. If you're a fan of live music, beer, and fun, seriously think about making it to the festival. This year will be the 4th annual and is sure to be a blast.
   The show costs 10 bucks, or, for you heathens who'd like to party all fuckin night, spend 20 and camp out. Either way, it'll be a good time. Support your local music scene AND camp out? Sounds pretty rad to me.

Motherlode Earth Day Festival
Sparks Ranch Resort
15550 Tuolumne rd. Sonora, CA.

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