Chopper Hostel

Everybody wants to be part of a thing, no matter what that thing happens to be. The late arrivasl, inevitably come in soft.

“Respect the rider no matter what they ride as long as they are riding.”

Eat a dick…respectfully. Who the fuck came up with the idea that just because some sap throws his leg over some old lame ass Suzuki 750 LTD and makes it a few miles around the block he demands any respect from a guy that busted his ass buildin’ his ride and is working 40 hours a week just to keep his radical sled’s spool front wheel pointed towards that horizon? Why would a guy that spent all winter cutting, raking, stretching, welding on his sled just to make it radical, suddenly respect some dude that went to a dealer and signed on the line to ride something he couldn’t work on if he had to. Those two dudes are riding for different reasons and, realistically, just owning a bike and riding it when the weathers nice is a far cry from the guy who built his ride according to his own warped vision. They are not the same.

I’m sure that everyone’s just waiting for me to drop the ‘Harley Davidson is best’ bomb but you ain’t gonna hear it from me. I could give a fuck about any of the new product line or the folks that are layin’ it all down for a payment and a warranty. Like the sayin’ goes “$50,000 and 50 miles doesn’t make you a biker” not that I’m callin’ ANYONE a biker. That term got watered down even before they were all over the television with their puffy sneakers and ‘biker code’.

There is no automatic ‘equality’ just because your skinny ass is precariously balanced on two wheels. The riding experience can be felt by anybody with a little wind in their face. To me however, that is merely the base model experience. Put a little time and effort into whatever you are riding and that is rewarded every time you stride your ride for a scrape. The more you put into what you’re riding the more that riding experience becomes. The ride isn’t just trying to look cool in the wind, it becomes everything that it takes to keep you face first in that groove and stay there, for the long term, by your own hand.

That’s what the real payoff was for me with all those miles I pulled on a bike that really didn’t want to pull ’em. The fact that I MADE the bike pull all those miles with time in the saddle, mechanical ingenuity and the balls to try it, and that’s where the payoff lies. Taking a bike, stripping it to its bare essentials with a little effort makin’ it weird, and that payoff is what makes me respect someone else’s ride. It’s the bike you’re riding and your involvement with it that warrants any respect. Just planting your fat ass on two wheels is only riding a bike on the shallowest of levels. It’s a skinned knee compared to full blown leprosy…the two can barely be compared.

There is a simplicity to the fundamental truths of a motorcycle. You’re propelled, face first, by the physics of internal combustion, riding is instinctual rather than series of conscious decisions and most importantly, everything on the road wants you dead so you better look cool doing it. Easy, peesy, Japanesy.

There is a tactual connectivity with an analog motorcycle that really adds to that feeling of attachment. The satisfying series of metal-on-metal mechanical actions required to drive you forward by the hand of God is intoxicating and a simple twist grip to control it all …this is living.

My whole thing is to keep things as simple as possible. Only the bare essentials are under me as I carve that twisty, no efficiency overlord controlling my world from a box under my seat. Only pure luck and pipe threads are keeping me on this side total disaster. Throw on a hardtail and a long front end and you’ll look cool as fuck all the way to the bitter end.

it doesn’t matter what you ride; it sure as fuck does! Ask any sport bike rider or adventure bike nerd and they’ll tell ya, it really matters. It matters a lot to me, its ridiculous how much it does.

Realistically, it’s all I got. For reasons beyond me I have spent my entire life just feedin’ or fightin’ my riding addiction. Fightin’ it doesn’t work so this is what I’m left with.

I have, obviously, have put a significant amount of time thinkin’ about ridin’ some cantankerous old Shovelhead and how nice it would be if it was easier. But knowing full well if I did it on anything else it wouldn’t mean shit.

I remember riding that Shovel between Scottsdale Az and Henderson NV just outside of Vegas. It was a ride that is best done at night during the summer and, at the time, on three or four muscle relaxers.

It was a few hundred miles and took between 6-8 hours. it was before the Hoover Dam had a bypass road so you rode right across the dam itslef. I’d stop at the overlook about halfway across and feed the red foxes that lived there. I remember lookin’ at the Latowski in full battle dress under the sodium lights, with a pale harvest moon above and thinkin’, “life would suck if that bike was a Virago!” and I know I was right.

I get a lot out of what should be the simple act of riding my bike. You can get a lot out of it if you have the mind to put a lot into it. I’m addicted to riding like a surfer gets addicted to a wave. I spent a lot of my time chasin’ that perfect ride, and I know what it takes to have one and it ain’t gonna happen without a cool sled in the mix.

I moved down here to spend my days ridin’ the mountains and enjoyin’ the America that can still be found in Appalachia. West Virginia steps to a different beat and according to many is a little backwards in its political views and holds a distinct lack of ‘wokeness’ to deal with. That shit shoved in your face can ruin any mountain high you might have and luckily, dealing with any of it after your phone is shut off is a rarity if it happens at all. That in itself is worth the price of admission.

The riding here is tight and curvy. Long mountain pulls and hair pin turns. Mountain passes and goat trails pass as maintained roads. The roads warrant you air on the side of caution rather than that bouncing off the rev limiter lunacy folks are so accustomed to these days. In this environment its more fun to ride you Shovelhead aggressively than have to ride slow on whatever performance bagger or Dyna you happen to be riding.

These roads seem almost manifest in their ability to show off vintage irons bottom of the gear set, low end performance. Riding a vintage bike at speed is a whole lot more fun than having to slow your rig down for the type of road you’re riding on. The only problem being is that you really have no reason to have any vintage bikes or choppers here. It’s not like you are going to stumble on any of these roads on your afternoon putt unless you brought your old iron here with the intent of ridin’ the West Virginia switchbacks. Nobody stumbles on these roads when you happen to be riding a Panhead but if you stumbled on them riding anything else you’d wish you had your cool shit instead.

Bikes are transported to different places all the time. Mostly for shows or vintage gatherings but not usually to go riding in a place that is damn near designed for their use. The riding mecca for bikes without overdrive or cruise control. The place where old iron can show its metal, grunting around the secondary roads of southern Appalachia.

I used to have a talent for riding my Shovelhead everywhere that I needed to be. Even back then I never had a good reason to point my 21″ towards any of the roads I now hold so dear to my heart. It was only after deciding this would be my next move from Florida that I truly discovered these hidden gems of chopper riding nirvana.

I moved here because of the Midland Trail (RT60) and the New River Gorge area, now a National Park. I had ridden a piece of RT 60 back before I moved here. I was invited by my boy Edge to ride West Virginia as part of a Discover West Virginia promotion. We did roughly 1000 miles over 5 days in the pouring rain crisscrossing the state hitting points of interest. It’s the wettest I’ve ever been, and I had the time of my life.

I was the only guy riding an old bike, but I was on mine, enjoying the roads that Gods hands made especially for Shovelheads. The last day landed us In Fayetteville near the New River Gorge Bridge. It was dumping buckets just like it had been the entire ride, you couldn’t see ten feet in front of you, but we crawled along on just a touch of the Midland Trail. Based on those few soaking miles, I move my ass here. I’m now 5 years a local.

If I had ridden that little stretch of road on any other bike, I wouldn’t be writing this today. Those tight turns and abrupt inclines may have gone unnoticed on anything but a Shovelhead and in those wet, couple of miles I found a home.

There are times when everything clicks. Riding those same set of switchbacks you have ridden a hundred times but this time you brake load the motor by dropping the jockey forward a gear and let the clutch roll in from under your foot, decelerating into the corner. The rockers load the springs in the long front end, and you hang off the left side until the kickstand scrapes, pushing on the right grip the bike dives into an immediate right as you row into the next gear and start pullin’ the hill. The motor barks off the stone face of the mountain to the right. Your head inches from making contact with the unforgiving rock, you roll the throttle harder, and you can feel your bike pullin’ with every compression stroke. This is the bike you needed to be on, and this is the road you were supposed to be riding.

You can chalk it all up to another lifestyle meme. Something posted up in passing hoping for nothing more than acceptance. That’s cute and if that’s all it is well, I got nothing for you kid. However, if you’re lookin’ to chase that dragon with a little more intensity, just know this one point. It DOES matter what you ride, as a matter of fact, it’s all that matters. “GTP”

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If you like what I’m doing, and you would like to help expand the Hostel or fund further adventures for me to write about think about spreadin’ some cheese on this cracker. I’m currently gathering funds to prepare for winter and buy some add ons for this site to improve the expereince. The ability to improve and grow Chopper Hostel is directly impacted buy your support. The amount and whether it’s a one-time payment or reoccurring payment is up to you. If you can’t, no sweat enjoy the content. If you can however it will be greatly appreciated. This is how I’m trying to make a living since Bidenomics has driven my painting game into the dirt. Thanks in advance. I appreciate your continued support and remember to like, comment and subscribe to keep up with all this shit

Thanks “GTP”