Chopper Hostel

Well giddy the fuck up, ain’t a minutes boredom ’round these parts. Life in the holler has been more than exciting for the last month or so. Crazy hillbillies are actin’ up like it’s tradition, witches squawking, chickens cluckin’ and dogs a fightin’. It’s the American dream with low social standards and an above ground pool.

I’m not sayin’ these are my people but I ain’t better than nobody so it seems to work out just fine. They have no abstract sense of boundaries, but I don’t have a problem grabbing an axe handle and reminding them. Actually, word has gotten out that my property is a no frolic zone and they’ve been stayin’ clear. Now they’re just fun to watch.

The Hostel really hasn’t had many chopper dudes campin’ the second half of the summer but they’re more than welcome. I haven’t been pushing the camping angle very hard but have been keeping diligent on the writing for this site, the improvement of the grounds and powering the Latowski through the mountain twisties.

Winter is loomin’ and that always puts the fear of frostbite in my head. Winter’s expensive and without a little prep time freezin’ you dick off is a good possibility.

Thats why I’m poking my head out of my hole and headed to the Smoke Out to sell a few prints and shake a few babies. It’s a perfect days ride away. A cool 200 miles each way on secondary roads from here in West-by-God to Salisbury N.C.

I gotta be honest and say that I don’t really know how I feel about it. I’m lookin’ forward to it don’t get me wrong, but I really haven’t delt with bike events and all their trappings since the collapse of the Horse empire.

All that seemed somewhere behind me, but now with Chopper Hostel gathering steam I need to get out and ‘promote’ it. If that means ‘george the painter’ has to show his melon in public again I guess it’s for a good cause.

I got no idea what I’m gettin’ myself into. Shit man, I’ve kinda been outta the loop. Let’s be honest, I haven’t given the whole ‘chopper culture’ thing a second thought in years. That’s because I’m fuckin’ old and rebelling is a young man’s game. I’ve been busy limpin’ around breakin’ up dog fights, old guy shit.

What the fuck ever man, I’ll throw my iron in the fire and see what happens. Now that I have my leg back over the Latowski the reason for going seems less contrived. The whole GTP thing was about riding so showing up to this event without a bike is kinda hypocritical. The last thing I want to be is an ‘I used to” rider, I hate those fucks.

This whole thing is gonna be mental. I haven’t dealt with people in any meaningful way in some time. The biggest crowd I’ve been a part of is maybe at Walmart when the government checks come in. Let’s hope my rabid social anxiety doesn’t get the better of me and have me in the fetal position reciting text from the Chopper Handbook for solace. May the gods of sixty weight light my way, and the prophets of iron cylinders guide me clear of two wheeled mediocrity.

Man, that’s all great and all but I have no idea what the ‘scene’ has turned into. One of the last events I went to in Florida had already taken on a fashionably ironic tone when I took an afternoon nap and turned into a bunch of guys givin’ each other back rubs by the fire by the time I woke up…yikes. These kids today.

There is a saying that goes: ” It’s the new generations obligation to piss off the previous generation”. I don’t know who said it but it was obviously a better mind than mine because there’s never been a more fitting way to sum up what I’m curious about. Have today’s young bucks taken the ‘culture’ and run with it or are they just pretending it’s 1974 for the ‘gram?

There’s always been a ‘them’ and ‘us’ with ‘them’ bein’ those faggots that strut their bad boy faces every three-day weekend or when AC/DC needs to be blasted at a stoplight somewhere. Those dealer authorized posers that look back at Sons of Anarchy and call it nostalgia. They still drive me nuts, but I have no idea what the equivalent is now, I just hope I’m not part of it.

Back in the day I put a lot of stock on tryin’ to be cool. I never was but you have the upper hand in any situation if that situation starts with you riding up on a cool chopper, dropping it on the kickstand and lighting up a smoke. It’s a memorable yet obviously narcissistic first impression but a good one just the same.

I wouldn’t be riding at all if it wasn’t so damn cool. That’s the thing that got me started and too this day, it’s still cool. Make what you’re riding a homebuilt deathtrap and you are talkin’ legendary levels of it.

I get it, you wanna put down some long miles and a big old dresser or a hard charging Dyna will get you there with little to no muss or fuss but, I’ve always found that the adventure really starts when your old iron starts givin’ you fits.

I have no interest in new/modern bikes at all. You can ride the hell out of an Ultra-Classic-Retro-Cow Glide with a one year only paintjob and I could give a flyin’ fuck, do those same miles on a chopped Ironhead and we got somethin’ in common.

The real Kings of the Schoolyard are those guys just keepin’ it together long enough to have their shit ‘up and runnin’ with a few bucks scraped together just to get back on that damn bike. These are the guys that are livin’ it and doin’ it BECAUSE it’s hard. Long miles on an old sled, this is the shit that will make you a man. Get a bunch of those dudes on those old bikes in one place for a few days and now we’re talkin’!

Curiosity has definitely gotten the better of me. I walked from the scene when it was appropriate knowing that hangin’ on would only lead to havin’ to suck the dicks of those still in the bright lights just to stay relevant. I preferred to quietly fail on my own, on my own terms and without the smell of cock on my breath. And fail I did, walking the mountain roads of a West by God winter and struggling to find my footing in a post Horse world.

It’s over a decade since I decided that I needed a life beyond choppers and more appropriately, the Latowski, that black hearted Shovelhead. There had to be more in life than just livin’ to get back on that bike and leaving all that other shit behind. I took the red pill and turned my back to the one thing I truly loved, riding my old Shovelhead. It needed to be done, I guess, just so I could know how much I needed it.

But I am a simple beast, gimme some cast iron cylinders, a foot on the clutch and a fistful of throttle and all is good in the cosmos. Remove any of those components and I just lose my shit, quick, with a vengeance and I’m completely unaware.

It’s the devil I know. Bikes, choppers and those pour bastard that share my level of addiction. Like fentanyl to a Meeting of the Juggalos’, so were choppers to the Smoke Out. I wonder if those oil-soaked moths are still dancing near that flame or is it all behind us replaced by easy living and white wine spritzers?

Really though, who gives a fuck. It ain’t that deep. The biggest place it holds in my psyche is that now I have an excuse to jump on my good ol’ chopper for a few miles and be all bike-y for a few glorious uninterrupted days. If all else sucks balls, at least it’ll be a great ride, one that’s long overdue.

All my shit is ready to go, prints, paintings and a new build on the Latowskis motor. Somewhere around the 3rd a rig is showing up to take my merch to the fairgrounds leavin’ me to ride without having the chopper loaded down. I’m excited for a days ride with nothing to carry short of a good buzz and a tank of gas.

So, as patiently as I can, I’m biding my time before I split for the Smoke Out. I haven’t looked forward to a ride in years. I haven’t RIDDEN in years never mind riding into, what seems like, the past for me.

Let’s see how this whole thing pans out. It’s gonna be a good ride to a big event where I might be recognized. I’ve done this before, the ride, the event and dealt with folks that read my shit…but that was before I was, and I quote, “a has been” in the chopper community. Oh my!

I don’t know if you’ve been payin’ attention but being part of ANY community has never really been my thing. I’m sure the ‘has been’ thing was supposed be a dig but to me it doesn’t really mean shit. I was in it and I got out of it to save my sanity not because I became irrelevant. I became irrelevant because I walked, and I’m just fine with that. I can still hold my head up based on what I’ve always been about…riding choppers and callin’ a punk a punk.

So I’m just waiting it out. I’m excited to ride the Lastowski and see some old friends. I’m nervous only because I’ve become kind of a ‘shut in’ on my property and dealin’ with crowds is a skill I will have to reacquire. It’s gonna be fun no matter what happens and if it sucks you’ll read about it right here at ChopperHostel.com.

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Painter…out! “GTP”