Ride Report - Chopper Fest

Thursday night, the sun had set and I was a bit behind in my preparation for the next morning’s ride. I made my way down to my shop to pack my bag, do a once over on my bike, and get stoked for journey. I typically have trouble sleeping the night before a big ride because I’m so excited, it’s a lot like the night before Christmas when you’re a kid. Just itching to get on the road, have good times with friends, and generally forget about the grind- for a few days I feel like maybe that’s my life- ridin around from town to town, with nothing more to worry about than keeping my bike running and which bar I’m stopping at.

Earlier that week I had waterproofed an old military bag that I planned to use on my bike, it turned out to be perfect, because it opens from the top, I had all my tools pretty accessible and the the bike felt super comfortable to handle some hard miles on highway 99.

I went through my hawg, checking all the normal shit, chain, brakes, tightened my shifter, oil, trans oil, I checked to make sure all the major nuts were tight, some things I just ignored ha. On the last run we, we were down on the pavement looking at someone’s bike and noticed that the clutch release arm was almost chewed through completely by the chain! We were all like “holy shit, it’s gonna cut that thing all the way through, that shit ain’t right”. Then we all looked down at our bikes and everyone’s was exactly the same lol. I think Dennis’s was the best out of the bunch. It doesn’t bother me anymore.

I finally got to bed after listening to Tyler Childers Bottles and Bibles and Purgatory straight through. Got a nice text from the boys saying see you in the morning. Sweet chopper dreams.

I woke up at 6am, full of energy. Made my coffee and grabbed what I’d wear for the trip, I didn’t pack any clothes other than what I wore, nothing special there, that is pretty standard for a trip, my bag was loaded down with tools and parts haha. I brought everything, extra carb, points, battery tender, plug wires, coil. I normally like to ride every day for a month or two before a long trip, but this was the dead of winter and it had been raining alot, so I wanted to be prepared for anything.

At the last moment I grabbed a down jacket to throw on my handlebars just in case, that turned out to be a smart move because that first night was freezing over the 41.

I gassed up in Colfax and hit the road to meet the crew in Elk Grove, about 65 miles. I’d be riding with Dennis, Zack, and Rhett. All of us were on rigid cone shovelheads.

I pulled into the AMPM to smiling faces, everyone feeling stoked to get movin. We planned for it to be a pretty leisurely day of riding, we met at 10 am and had about 380 miles to go, we figured we’d be jockeyshiftin into Pismo Beach before dark- you know how that goes ha.

We hopped on 99 and were really jammin, traffic was pretty heavy with commuters since it was Friday. I think we had a pretty good feel with the group, we rode pretty organized, tried to stay tight two by two as best we could. Through Modesto traffic was really bad and we quickly realized the shitty condition of the road. So many potholes, groves, dips, and the pavement level changed a lot too. We split lanes for a bit at that “in between” speed where it’s almost to fast to split.

We all felt like we were making really good time, accumulating gas stop after gas stop. We were about to roll through Fresno before we hit 41 S out towards Kettleman City, so we decided to stop by our buddy Bryan’s and say hi. As we exited and were slowly coasting to the light at the off ramp, the chopper god’s blessed us with a flat tire. We were pretty lucky it happened where it did, we were less than a mile from Bryan’s house, the sun was warm, and the highway had been so bad the previous 60 miles, we were stoked not to have a blowout at high speed.

Dennis is like a master navigator and planner on a run. He immediately found a motorcycle shop to grab a new tube, and him and Rhett rode to get it. Zack and I called Brian and waited with the bike for him to grab it so we could change the tube at his house.

For me, part of the fun of long rides is just “letting go” and not really sticking to a schedule, just rolling in the moment and seeing how things shake out. We were ready for a little break anyway, so we ordered a bunch of pizzas and got some beer for our repair and hangout session.

The repair turned into hours of shootin the shit. Boys broke out some marijuana and we crushed beers, lifted weights, played with all Bryan’s rad shit, jammed some Waylon. Zack and I walked to dollar general and they had everything we needed, which was duck tape and baby powder, looking back we might have looked pretty creepy to the cashier.

At about 330 we were all buttoned up and ready to fly. We all kicked our hawgs lined up in front of Bryan’s house and they started with ease. The sun was gonna set fast, we had some miles still ahead of us to roll into Pismo beach, where we had a campsite at Oceano Dunes.

The sunset ride was incredible, I have not seen California this green in a decade. Felt almost like we were in Ireland! We ripped through the valley of the San Joaquin. The sun was golden and the bikes were running great.

We had been getting around 60 miles between gas stops, these bikes have frisco gas tanks, I think we pushed one leg to over 60 as we rolled right into the gas station. But this time we were pushing the speed a bit more and we ran out on the highway before Kettleman City.

Dennis had a small gas can on his bike so we all stopped and refilled Zack’s bike, while we took in the scenery. Again I felt like we were lucky to have to stop where we did- because of the beauty, golden hour with that Lush central california farm landscape . Not sure if it was just our positive attitude as a group, but Everytime we hit a setback, it just made for a good time.

After gassing up it was time to hit the mountains. It was dark as fuck. We all kinda downplayed the timing as we left Bryan’s, not really thinking how gnarly highway 41 is through the mountains at night. No center divide, cold, possible wildlife jumping into the road, fast, bad visibility, topped off with shitty chopper headlights lol.

We stayed tight to try and see as good as we could. At times my mind raced, I was thinking “fuck, if a deer jumps out right here, I’m fuckin dead”. Motorists are fucking assholes to a pack of freedom lovin boys like us, at one point Zack later informed me that when we merged at Cholame, a car ran up behind me within a couple feet.

The last gas stop before pismo we tried to recharge, shared a cup of hot coffee, I pounded some pop tarts. The last stretch was pretty sketchy, just because of the fog. We were on the coast now, and coming through San Louis Obispo. I fell behind a bit and rolled into the campsite solo. The others had exited before me but taken a wrong turn and waited for me to pass, I must have rode right by them because they never saw me.

Our buds Mitch and Mason were already at the campsite, with a fire blazing. We spent the night downing beers around the fire, and everybody ended up crashing cowboy style on the ground without tents haha.

The next morning we woke up in the fog. Everything was soaking wet, empty beer cans scattered all over the campsite. It felt like we were directly in the middle of the park, surrounded by massive 3 axel RVs, rigged up with generators, 55” tvs, and canopies. We had been joking the night before at the lengths people go to drive out to a campsite with that much shit, just to feel like they are at home.

I got up first and brushed my teeth, started compiling my shit together and inspected my bike to see if anything had vibrated loose.

Everyone trickles awake, even Zack who had ended up crawling into the back of Mitch’s single cab pickup at some point the night before because it was so freezing cold. It actually rained for a second at the campsite while we were packing up, there were heavy clouds but it appeared that it was just going to blow through.

We were about to begin kicking the bikes when a young park ranger rolls up and immediately starts hassling us. Dude was such a dick, he tried to make us each pay the campsite fee because technically we each had our own vehicle. We replied that the total amount of space we occupied was less than a small car, and the impact from us was much less than these massive RVs blasting generators all night ha.

We settled on us moving our bikes off the grass and onto the small paved part of the site, he mentioned registration for the bikes and I wanted to make him happy so he’d leave us alone, I’m pretty sure none of our bike’s numbers match.

We fired em up and left town. It was gonna be a mellow day, just over 100 miles, all coast highway. Chugging along through small towns north of Santa Barbara was incredible, the beauty of the rolling hills, sun shining, the California coast is some of the best riding in the country. We stopped at a little diner somewhere in the Santa Ynez mountains and had breakfast.

It was still morning, but we planned on stopping for a beer in Santa Barbara before getting into Ventura. It felt weird riding through little farm communities like Goleta, seeing rusty cars parked on sprawling property, then crossing into Santa Barbara which just feels so upscale. We exited downtown and did a few laps, navigated some one-way streets, looked for a bar, nothing looked enticing. We got gas and discovered a few heavy oil leaks, then just said fuck it, we weren’t feelin the town so we hopped back on the highway for the remaining costal miles into Ventura.

There was major construction on hwy 1 during that stretch, all the cars compressed into a single lane with the shoulder disappearing at times, and at other points widening out for heavy machinery and trucks. We were ridin two by two, with the surf to our right, flying over bridges, sun shining, California baby, when Zack’s bike abruptly dies.

Dennis and Rhett were in front of us and rode away since we don’t run mirrors. Zack and I coasted to a stop. It just so happened to be a nice area of the construction zone where we had ample space to pull off and diagnose the problem. We both agreed it was electrical, since it was running fine then immediately died. We suspected it was the rectifier- I’ve had them go bad numerous times, even when they are brand new, they are cheaply made and on a long ride there is always a chance of one randomly failing with no fault to the rider.

We were only 10 minutes out from Ventura and we knew we could locate the part if we got to the Motel 6 and hit up the “chopper hotline”.

Mitch and Mason had driven down earlier that day so we called them to grab the bike so we could fix it in the motel parking lot. Dennis and Rhett were already there pounding in n out burgers, and called to see what happened.

We pulled into the parking lot and started pinpointing the problem before reaching out to friends to try and locate the part. We swapped batteries with a running bike and hooked up the multimeter, tested the rectifier and sure enough that was it! I had a battery tender with me so we threw Zack’s battery on to charge. We were able to locate a rectifier from Mike at Olive Street Specials, who generously took it off a bike he was building.

We hung out drinking beers in the parking lot for most of the day, then left for the pre party. it’s always cool to see the bikes that are in magazines, up close and personal, in a more informal setting. Groups from all around had made it to Ventura that weekend, and you could tell everyone was jacked up about getting together and seeing old friends.

After leaving Olive Street, we headed over to this dude Shawn’s house for more belligerent dude time. He was nice enough to let us out-of-towners into his place and I felt grateful to be immersed into another city’s chopper culture, especially one like Ventura. We talked about the true Ventura club bike style, which is something I didn’t know much about, how they raise the fairings, it was really cool to check out up close over cold Modelos.

In my typical fashion,I crashed hard and left before everyone else. My bike kicked over easy and I made the short ride back to the motel alone at about 11pm, where I slept on the floor of Mitch’s room.

I guess the guys were up all night, I vaguely remember the boys coming in at some point, I actually thought someone pissed on me as a joke when I woke up soaking wet, but it was just a full beer that Zack had opened in bed immediately before he passed out lol.

We woke up on Sunday and packed our shit up to head to the show. We all kinda split up once we got into the event, to either meet other friends, walk the swap meet, or scope the bikes in the show. I went straight to get some coffee and ran into my friends Taylar and Brian. I see them at every show, and every time it’s like time doesn’t pass, we never plan to run into each other but it just happens, Idaho, LA, Virginia City, it’s a small circle.

After like 45 minutes Dennis calls me and is like “yo you ready?”. I was kinda surprised because normally I’m the guy who wants to leave the party and go ride, but everyone in our group was on the same page.

We went out to the parking lot and I pounded a beer, Zack put some rtv on his rear cylinder base gasket and we rolled out. Dennis reserved a campsite in Los Osos for that night. We stopped in San Louis Obisbo to hit a weed shop to stock up for the night, then stopped to grab food and beers. We had no cooking equipment but we could figure out a way to cook hotdogs over the fire.

When I was checking out with a 12 pack of Coors, the cashier asked if I just got off work, I was covered in road grime, brake dust, my face was pretty black. I told her I was “on vacation” and she laughed.

We rode into the campsite at sunset just as the sun was exploding with Insane orange colors over the Pacific. I had never heard of this campsite, but Dennis had gone before and said it was one of his favorite spots. It was incredible, super quite, shielded from wind, and really nice beach access with a massive rock to climb out onto and watch the waves. It felt almost like north of San Francisco.

That night we all got pretty lit. I took a few drags off Rhett’s joint and spun completely out of my mind. I rarely smoke weed, and when I do I need my bed close by because I can’t function like most people on the stuff. We had already set up our tents so we could just trip out by the fire and roll into bed when we got fucked up enough. The others took some mushrooms and at one point Rhett started crying out of happiness and it was pretty beautiful to see an adult man having so much fun and feeling so good.

I slept so good that night, my body was so tired from 3 days on the bike but my mind was so content and satisfied. The next morning we had the long stretch back to Nor Cal, it’d be a full day riding, and we’d need to stay on track to not get home in the dark.

Gas stations were passing by quickly, Zack added a quart of oil every stop, my bike started kicking worse and worse the whole way home, my points gap had narrowed a bit but I decided to just leave it until I could tune everything up after returning home.

We stopped for lunch at a Mexican place somewhere off 101 and got another burst of energy for the remaining miles. It’s always fun on the return trip because the pace feels a little faster, like there is a goal to get home, it’s a different feeling than the riding on day 1, and I have learned to appreciate the different rhythms of a long trip on choppers.

At the last gas stop in Stockton Dennis broke out the bottle of whiskey and we all cheers and take a shot. The sun was setting and we’d each break off and go to our houses one by one, Dennis and Rhett taking 50, Zack going into downtown Sac on 99, and me heading up the hill on 80.

I split lanes in stop and go traffic all the way through Sacramento on Capital city freeway, I realized my headlight burnt out and it was getting dark fast, I still had about 50 miles to go. I managed to make it to Rocklin at dark, I had to take off my glasses to see ha, where I gassed up and found an autozone to get a new headlight bulb. My headlight is missing the weather gasket, so it rattles around a lot at high speeds, It goes out every long trip.

When I pulled up to my house in the mountains that night I had that familiar feeling that comes to me every time I return on my bike. A feeling of autonomy and self sufficiency, victory, struggle overcome, and contentment.

A lot of people would interpret how I just spent the last 4 days as either work, or punishment lol. I was sore, my knees and back were fried, but when you truly love something, it doesn’t matter how bad it is for you, you just gotta have it, even if it doesn’t make sense, or the numbers don’t add up.

I walked into the house and held my 1 week old son.

Daddy’s home.

-tay

900 miles.

Written as I remember.