Tuesday, September 15, 2009

This is where it all begins....

Sometimes I will have a lot to say...sometimes I will be late for work and/or pissed off/disgusted that I have to spell out everything to simple minded imbeciles and assume the picture will do all the talking...for instance this shot...if anything about this shot offends you, go away, sell your bike...NO better, give it away you don't deserve to ride on the same planet that I live on...or breathe the same air. FTFO. This is about more than simple survival…this is about Thriving… Victory…not dying…LIVING!

This is Tom FN Rose and he is my hero. You will read a lot here at the Chronicle about people like TFNR…people who realize that they are heirs to the oxygen that the likes of Ben Franklin, Meriwether Lewis, Pete Rose, (yeah Fuckers…I saw the fucker Charlie Hustle in 1976…he held nothing back!) Henry Ford…Lance Fucking Armstrong… Thaddeus Fucking Kosciuszko exhaled…you getting my drift…he is not wasting his breath. He is not pretending and hoping that the Family of five in the Mini-Van thinks he may be the big bad outlaw biker boogeyman…He is too busy living…LIVING! That is a whole other world of motorcycling.

Fifteen years ago Tom showed up on my doorstep, loudly and smiling after riding from the toxin free midwestern prairie to the office of the now defunct Iron Horse magazine in pre-Rudy NYC to get his bike shot and to meet the staff. He didn’t call ahead or ask, he knew his bad muthafucker Warpig FXR would make the cut, no matter that FXR’s were not the standard fair for the magazine. I however did not work in the NYC office, so he left his number and the editor passed it to me, warning that this Tom Rose character was a strange one indeed, too clean cut, determined, happy… to be riding such a wild motorcycle…this was years before the internet so all I could go on was a description over the phone…no one was building radical FXR’s and no one was building to withstand the apocalypse. I give the guy a call and discover that me and the Road Warrior jr. must have ancestry linkage, even if it was way back when the first Volcano erupted…but I digress, it wasn’t my doorstep he showed up to, it was at my wedding…tired from riding straight thru from Rhode Island to Kentucky in the rain, he in grand fashion showed up laughed and became a member of my extended family.

I knew there were others out there like me, who didn’t fit the stereotypical biker mold that just because we chose to ride stripped down radical machines did not mean we were the same as the ones that came before us, who only chose to ride radical machines out of fashion identity, not out of necessity. I didn’t ride stripped down and ground down machines to fit in, quite the opposite. The whole biker lifestyle doesn’t interest me. Getting to the other end and back does. Accomplishing the mission. In and out…WTF Over. MCLMM!

I don’t think I have ever met a person whose bike fit them quite as well. The bike is as mysterious and action packed as the owner. Focused and determined to survive the apocalypse and thrive in it…It is still the only Magneto powered kickstart only FXR that I know of. Over the course of this blog, you will learn more about Tom and other like him, and their machines…this is how it all begins.

While I hesitate to define exactly what this blog will consist of, I will hold this man and his machine as a scale of measurement. Don’t be offended by the shit you read, FKRS if you aren’t living up to this scale. If you’re still reading and not holding your breath, welcome aboard. Hold on. Strap in and ROCK ON!

High speed low drag indeed.

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