Chopper Hostel

Chopper Hostels’ Hostel Takeover is officially in the books. Was it a success, hard to tell. It didn’t rain, it was a shit ton of fun and everyone promised to come back.

The attendance was dismal, only about ten bikes, not even my local friends showed up for whatever reason. Maybe because it wasn’t an established event, it rained the days leading up to it or because it wouldn’t boost their social media status, but I would like to extend a hearty fuck you to those who knew about the event but didn’t come anyway…luckily, it was only opening day.

The downpours that had been our weather down here for about a month finally passed and the sun dawned on the opening day Friday the 7th and has been warm and sunny ever since. Anybody that was goin’ to show up showed up on Friday. I held onto hopes that the gates would be flooded come Saturday morning but alas, little did I know but no one else would be showing up during the actual event.

I had been buttoning up my bike with Chris who rode down from Ontario to give me a hand with things and ended up taking over the wiring harness final assembly as I was running around tryin’ to get ready for the ‘incoming hordes’ that never really showed up. The work preparing for visitors ended when it was obvious there was enough space and I figured I could clear more space if I had to (I didn’t) …pass me a joint!

The bike fired up Friday afternoon and was still in need of a valve adjustment but my head was on that reefer and there was too many chefs in the proverbial kitchen to dial it in, but I took it for a ride around the property just the same. The tires were damn near flat, I hadn’t ridden a 24″ over front ended bike in years and I was high but all I had to do was ride it a few feet and it was going to be a victory in my mind…it went like this…

It seems that if you put your pant leg over the carburetor the bitch will shut off launching your skinny ass face first in the dirt. It left a mark, and I haven’t laughed that hard in a while.

What was so funny? Besides gettin’ caught duffing my bike but I forgot that I was 60 when I went down but nobody else did! Everybody acted accordingly to an old motherfucker takin’ one to the face but this time I was the old guy and people’s responses had me in stiches laughing most of the night. I was fine, I didn’t feel 60 until the next day!

Friday night and nothing mattered. We sat by the fire and made fun of me and the world around us. We were the only sane ones in the world and the rest of it was fucked.

Steaks grilled on the fire, beer was drunk, weed was smoked, and a cool breeze reminded us there was no place we’d rather be. Just a few chopper jockies raggin’ on the world and not givin’ a fuck about the weak and their political correctness. Down here in the holler we don’t even know what that is.

The night went on and eventually I made my way to the house and grab some Z’s . I slept the sleep of the dead as there was nothing left t be worried about and nothing left to prepare. I dreamt of solid lifters and wiring harnesses and the next morning came for me around 9.

Scrapin’ the crust out of my eyes I noticed a few dudes mullin’ around, laughin’ and talkin’ about how the temperature dropped over night. It’s the holler so if it doesn’t warm up to the mid 80’s during the day you can bet you’re goin’ to need an extra blanket at night…perfect sleeping weather and everyone agreed.

I have to take a moment to congratulate my dog, Butters. You see, we don’t get a lot of visitors down in the holler never mind a bunch of drag pipes and malcontents invading the property. To say the dog was uninitiated to the whole ‘chopper thing’ would be an understatement and starting off he acted like you would figure a young dog would, chasin’ bikes and biting tires.

Chris the Canadian was the first to roll in with his bike packed heavy for his trip from the great white north. He had been here before, last year, and knew Butters would be up his ass like a dog does when visitors arrive but he wasn’t ready for how strong the dog was. Chris was chuggin’ up the dirt driveway when Butters went for his front tire (as dogs do) but was surprised when he got a good bite on it and stopped Chris’s bike more or less in its tracks. This could be a problem but as the bikes came in Butters was less and less in attack mode and was much happier runnin’ around like a retard waggin’ his tail and welcoming each new bike.

He caught on quick, and I never once had to worry about the dog. He hardly humped anyone…for very long anyway. Butters is in love with bikes and the people that ride them. He’s never had a bad experience with a someone on a bike and we plan to keep it that way. I’d hate to get on his bad side and with this breed, it’s possible. Who’s a g’boy?!

The next morning started later than I expected. I woke up around 9:00 and everyone else followed suit and took advantage of the cool weather to sleep in a bit. There were no plans for Saturday as I hoped people would be rolling in as the day progressed (smh) and was hopin’ to finish my bike.

A couple of bikes took off over the hill into town to grab some breakfast and the others just grabbed some coffee and rubbed their eyes in the warming sun. There was no rush and the day was open to do whatever you wanted.

A few guys took the day and headed out to Charleston takin’ in some of the killer mountain roads we have to offer, some popped open a beer and settled in for a few hours of day drinkin’ and I fucked with my bike off and on as I tried to provide anything people might need to enjoy their stay.

It became evident that the day would go by and there wouldn’t be any new arrivals. So I spent Saturday smokin’ cheeba and assessing the situation, hoping that people, without a big crowd, were having a good time….and they were!

I was fully expecting to be in a shit mood after realizing the lack of attendance but surprisingly, I never gave it a thought. There were plenty of smiles, food, weed and good times with the few people that showed up.

This further emphasized my new found mantra of “quality over quantity” when it comes to bikes, riding and the people that surround it. I’d rather be sittin’ around with a couple of solid dudes than a gaggle of poser humps riding around in golfcarts playin’ dress up for the weekend…quality over quantity.

I’ve tried to stay true to the ‘biker culture’ I knew when I was a kid. It has changed so much that I don’t even really know the rules anymore and frankly, who gives a fuck?

At the point I am now I just do what feels comfortable. I’m not in it to win peoples favor, I’m an asshole and people are goin’ to figure it out no matter how rounded the edges have become to be a more ‘tolerent’ environment.

Back when it was more than a little dicey this thing that we had wasn’t for everyone and you had to prove yourself as more than just a hobbyist to be accepted. We were livin’ in it and there wasn’t anything as mundane as a curious passerby. You were in it up to your neck and society at large really despised you and your lifestyle. You were hated and that and your mechanical knowledge is what formed the bond between us not fashion. It was good. Sure, the women were ugly and the whole thing smelt bad, but there wasn’t any bullshit and if there were you got called on it. As real as a handshake as opposed to a fist bump. You can tell a lot about a guy with just a handshake, not so much touching knuckles unless it’s in a fight.

That was when I noticed that Chopper Hostel is a lot closer to the events I constantly lament about than the carnivals of today. Maybe it’s just me but bein’ on a bike was a means to simplify life not complicate it. Just sit in the dirt and entertain yourself, you shouldn’t need me to keep you occupied. This place is a cheap easy alternative to all that ‘rally’ nonsense. Will I ever go to another event? Sure, but I ain’t gonna break the bank to laugh at the posers. $75 for a weekend pass without camping seems a bit outta control in Sleepy Joes economy, but then again, I’m a broke ass painter, what the fuck do I know.

Back to the Takeover in question. There were no new arrivals on Saturday but I was receiving emails and messages from people that were riding around the Appalachian Mountains and were looking to crash for a night.

Rick was in the area from Wickenburg AZ and Cody and his crew were from Georgia. Rick was lookin’ to crash on Sunday night and the Georgia crew were hovering around the area lookin’ to crash whenever they were in the immediate area. This is exactly what I was hoping would happen.

The rest of us settled in for the evening, the bikes that went to Charleston made it back just before sunset and shared their stories of break downs and their ultimate redemption. There were smiles all around and we threw some steaks on the grill and laughed late into the night, eventually making our way to the tents for a cool nights sleep.

A bike or two had beat feet before I woke up around 10, the rest were hangin’ around packin’ their shit onto their bikes. Everybody was excited to hit the road for their next destination and shared their enthusiasm to return when they were in the area again and made plans to do so.

Rick rolled in late afternoon on Sunday after everyone had left. He had attended a ride with a bunch of off road Sporties and was just needin’ a place to set some stakes. He’s a really cool, knowledgeable dude just out galivanting around on his sled. He was self contained and set up his shit in no time. Crashin’ early he planned on makin’ some miles the next day. He was gone before I woke up on Monday. Your welcome back anytime. Oh yea, did I mention he is 70? All you young bucks could learn a thing or two from a dude like Rick.

Chris headed back to Ontario Tuesday morning and planned on being home by Wednesday. Those Canadians love to eat miles. He made it in no time.

Wednesday I had an empty house. With the chaos passed I took the opportunity to finish dialing in my bike. It had been a while since I had adjusted solid lifters and I did it over a few times just to become familliar with it. With the bike done and running sweet the phone rang…

It seems that Cody was having a problem with his charging system about 60 miles away. He was getting low voltage, and everything indicated a bad regulator and finding one in the woods would be damn near impossible. I grabbed one that I had lying around and a lithium battery just in case he had to limp it the 60 miles they had until hitting the hostel.

We came to find out that the regulator he had was just loosened up and wasn’t getting a proper ground. He threw a few wrenches at it and the problem was taken care of. I left them the regulator and the battery just in case and they returned them when they arrived the next afternoon. They set up tents and had their own thing goin’ on…hangin’ their tents from the trees…crazy.

Another night came and went and the next day the Georgia crew left late in the morning. Seems like we had another group of dudes we hope to see again.

Yes, the Hostel Takeover was a success and is now open to scooter tramps until the snow flies. The grounds ended up workin’ better than I expected even with the limited attendance.

Financially it put me right in the shitter. I was hoping to use the proceeds to bail the rest of my staggering painting career but only served to put off the inevitable turning off of my utilities. It sucks for sure but that aside I have no complaints, it was a great time.

The Hostel is something I think a lot of you can get on board with. I want to do major improvements to the grounds as money allows. The goal is to have a place for camping while enjoying the Appalachian Mountains and the entire New River Gorge area.

I won’t be attending the Smoke Out in Salisbury N.C. this year but I invite everyone to spend a night or two here to help keep the doors open. The Hostel is 210 miles away from Salisbury and can be made into a great one-day ride starting from here, without highways to enjoy the secondary roads.

The rates are $30 for the first nights stay and $20 a night after that. Its a cheap stay for a layover or to stay for a few days or more. By the time this is published work will be under way to provide private restroom facilities and an outdoor shower. I’ll provide grills so you can cook your own meals or you can just run over the mountain to grab some grub in town.

Trailer your cool bikes down if you don’t have the time to ride’m down, I don’t care. It doesn’t cost extra unless you trailer here and leave the hostel for a few days. A flat rate for trailer rig parking will be decided on a person to person basis if you just want to use the hostel as simply a launching point for further adventures on your chopper. I can dig that and will provide you a safe place to leave your rig.

On a more pressing note, I am hoping to avoid getting my utilities shut of and need to raise a few hundred to keep them on. If you are able, I would appreciate a little help in the financial end of things that are looming for shut off. Any amount will help and anything over what it takes to keep the lights on will be put towards improving the hostel. I really hate to ask but that daft jackhole in office has ruined what I had going with my quickly fading artistic career. The whole point of the hostel is to take some of the pressure off painting while still being able to sling paint on originals.

If you would like to contribute to helping with the immediate (and future) expenses I have Paypal and CashApp available…

Paypal to whitetrashicon@hotmail.com (no friends and family available)

CashApp to $georgethepainter1340

I appreciate everyone’s interest in the Chopper Hostel and following along here at chopperhostel.com. Subscribe to receive all the goings on down here in the hole. Much, much more to come over the next few months. Drop a few bucks to help get by and make some plans to give Chopper Hostel a squat…you won’t be disappointed.

For now I’m goin’ to jump on my sled and go for a scrape, until next time…”GTP” out!

Chopper Hostel 35 mill creek road mt. hope west virginia 25880

contact email hamsteakdawg@gmail.com hit me up with any questions or whatever