Sideburn 34

DESERT SLED A real one, a 1960 Triumph TR6/B, untouched for 50 years. Until now

EL MIRAGE

Dried-up lake bed in California’s Mojave desert

#34 £6

PARTS AND ACCESSORIES FOR HARLEY-DAVIDSON MOTORCYCLES SINCE 1979

A BIKER’S WORK IS NEVER DONE Pick of the month Geier Mod. 78 Gloves Get it at wwag.com

Sideburn is published four times a year

by Inman Ink Ltd Editor: Gary Inman Deputy editor: Mick Phillips Art editor: Kar Lee Entertainments officer: Dave Skooter Farm Poet/Test rider: Travis Newbold For advertising/commercial enquiries please email: sideburnmag@gmail.com ©2018 Sideburn magazine ISSN 2040-8927 None of this magazine can be reproduced without publisher’s consent

sideburnmag@gmail.com After ten years of this you’d think it wouldn’t be so hard to make the mag. It is. It would be impossible without these fine folks: Scott Toepfer; Hayden & Joy; Ed Subias; Mark Ward; Yve Assad; Leah Tokelove; Norm McFuzzybutt; Matt Savage; Sandriana Shipman; Tom Bing; Ryan Quickfall; George & all at Greenfield Dirt Track; Bill, Otto & Geoff at Biltwell; Brink; Chuck Joyner; David Death Spray; Mick Ofield; Preston Burroughs; Jason; Dave Bevan; Ian Turner; all at Wheels & Waves; Steve Larder; all at Vintage Rides; Gary Van Voorhis; all at Deus Swank Rally; all at Krazy Horse; Ed Makowski; Nik at Harley-Davidson; DFace; Steve at Indian; John Harrison; John at Brapp Snapps; All at CFM; Anthony and the DTRA; last, but never, ever least, all our loyal advertisers. They support the independents.

Cover: Hayden Roberts, El Mirage by Scott Toepfer Bugs by Maxwell Paternoster This page: Brittney Olsen, New Smyrna by Ed Subias

SIDEBURN 35 will be published in winter 2018. To subscribe go to sideburn.bigcartel.com

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UNTOUCHED This Triumph desert sled sat, unstarted, for 50 years before it ventured out for its Sideburn shoot

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SANDRIANA SHIPMAN Leah Tokelove interviews one of the toughest women in motorsports

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SURVIVAL OF THE DUMBEST

Biltwell take on 1000 racing miles of Baja.

On a Harley Sportster

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JAWA BLUEPRINT The Jawa 500 Type 890: the Eastern Bloc’s rocking beast

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ON ANY SUNDAY, MONDAY, TUESDAY

A platinum-plated unicorn ridden by a donkey. Steve McQueen’s OAS Husky

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71

How to plot a South African tour – on 500cc Royal Enfields

Cynicism missile launched from Planet X Games

THE RECCE

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Illustration: Mark Ward

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THE LAST DAZE OF ROME

Sideburn’s hobo, Dave Bevan, drops acid and investigates Wheels and Waves

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90

98

112

The all-girl student group who built a flat tracker

Survivor Customs’ racer production line

100-year-old bikes battle on a banked oval

Death Spray Custom gives us a glimpse of his packed hard drive

HIGH SCHOOL MECHANICAL

TIDY WELDS...

SONS OF SPEED

INSPIRATION ARCHIVE DEEP DIVE

sideburn #34

Regulars

16 Interview: Johnny Lewis 22 How To: Build Your Own Track 104 Shop: Rebels Alliance 106 RaceWear: John Harrison 108 Event: VFTC, Pemberton, Canada 110 Sideburn merchandise 111 Poem 114 Trophy Queen

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Retired from scorching Californian races more than 50 years ago, the hot desert sled that is frozen in time Words: Hayden Roberts Photos: Scott Toepfer

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’VE ALWAYS BEEN acutely aware that there’s nothing more foreign than a Brummie in southern California. You can give him a gold lamé jumpsuit, an avantgarde haircut, and make him wear a cape, but you can’t shake the accent. Yet, for every Dave Hill, there’s a John Osbourne.

John who?

You know. Batty John. Lilian’s oldest.

Wears black eyeliner and goes around dressed a bit like a vampire.

Much like Birmingham’s John ‘Ozzy’ Osbourne became the Prince of Darkness, the Triumph twin, produced in a redbrick factory 15 miles east of Brum in the English West Midlands, became the King of the Desert. Those Triumphs may have been forged under the charcoal skies of Meriden, but they arrived in the citrus-sucking sunshine of Los Angeles and everything made sense.

This bike is a 1960 650 TR6/B. The B designates a scrambler set up – meaning high pipes and a few other minor changes over the TR6/A, its road-going twin.

At least it started out as one, but every part has been tweaked and messed with. I knew of its existence and I’d missed out on it a couple of years ago. An eBay alert on my phone a few weeks back and there it was again, still untouched! After an email and phone call the listing was pulled – you can’t faff about and get into a bidding war on these things.

I picked the bike up a few hours later in Beverly Hills. Luckily, it’d been saved from a restoration due to the irreversible frame modifications. I sent a couple pics of the bike to Gene Smith, a top desert racer of the mid-’60s. I had an inkling it was something special.

‘Gene! I just grabbed this, what do you reckon?’

Three seconds later the phone rings. It’s Gene.

‘Hayden! Does it have this, this and this? Check here, how about this piece? Is that front hub red? Holy shit! That’s my dad’s bike!’

Buck Smith was a member of the Shamrocks MC, a racing club based in Sunland, just north of LA. A twotime national AMA champion, Buck won the Checkers National Hare & Hound in 1957, the Greenhorn Enduro in ’59 and ’64, and finished second to the legendary Bud Ekins at the Big Bear Run, also in ’57.

As the largest motorcycle race in the world, the Big Bear Run had 720 guys flatten a path from the desert to the top of the mountain. 125 miles of brutality saw only 122 of the entrants finish. To win a desert race, you have to finish a desert race. Taking a bike built for the leafy lanes of Warwickshire and racing it in the gruelling terrain of the Mojave took a fair amount of essential modifications.

As far as we can tell, Buck’s bike was raced and developed between 1960 and 1966. There was a cottage industry of parts that sprang up around the early ’60s, guys whittling away in garages across the Southland.1 We have a few examples of those on the

Have it! Old and rare it may be, but built to race and still chews up the desert

>>

bike. For the sake of time and paper, let’s just say the motor’s been hopped up... crank, cams, pistons.

As the Romans figured out, the quickest route to the smoke bomb 2 was a straight line, so these bikes were built to go directly through obstacles, not around them. Up front is a 4.00 x 19in Dunlop Trials tyre, hand cut for traction and fitted to a chrome rim with a half-width hub taken from an earlier model. Half the width, half the weight. The wide front tyre acted as a battering ram. Small aircraft bolts fill the gaps where spokes poke through the hub. Smack a rock at full tilt and bend the rim, the spokes wouldn’t jump ship.

The same reinforcement was applied to the rear along with braised seams to stop the hub from separating on heavy landings. A 59-tooth overlay sprocket was fitted for more torque in deep sand and up steep, loose hills.

A common problem with the early-’60s duplex frame was its tendency to snap at the steering head, not ideal. The story goes, after witnessing a chap die at the 1959 Big Bear Run, Edward Turner (Triumph’s head designer) added an additional frame crossbar.

This bike was manufactured before the upgrade, a homemade addition and an extra steel plate have been welded in its place.

The ‘Traveler’ front forks were developed by Buck Smith and Joe Roberts in a garage in Sunland. The only parts they share with stock forks are the sliders.

‘FORK FLEX WAS CURED

BY THE TOM LEE FORK BRACE – BASICALLY A PIECE OF U-SHAPED PIPE’ The stanchions are stainless steel as opposed to chromed steel and longer than stock. Along with modified internals and dampers, you get a full eight inches of travel, three inches longer than anything else available at the time. A set would’ve knocked you back $60. Fork flex was cured by the Tom Lee fork brace – basically a piece of u-shaped pipe.

Bars are always a rider’s preference and Buck was a big guy and by all accounts had huge hands, so he preferred the earlier one-inch bars. The cables run through fuel line to protect them when banging through brush. On the throttle hand, there’s a leather

Appendix

1. Southland is the Greater Los Angeles area, taking in Los Angeles and Orange counties, plus Riverside, San Bernardino and Ontario.

Oxnard, Ventura and Thousand Oaks are also included. 2. The start of a desert race was traditionally signalled by a ‘smoke bomb’ (often a heap of burning tyres) in the distance that marked the entrance to the trail.

(clockwise from far left) Hub modification was learnt the hard way. The small hex scews hold the spokes in place in a big impact. Clever, easy-change rear sprocket too; steering damper for high speeds and deep sand; quickaccess emergency split link, cable runs in protective fuel line and leather doughnut cushions thumb knuckle; BSA toolbox contains essentials; single Amal carb sucks through effective air filter; basic but capable fork brace, and original Dunlop Trials tyres that are cracking up after being on duty for half a century

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doughnut between the grip and the throttle body to save the constant wear on your thumb knuckle. The big, fat, machined aluminium steering dampener would be cranked down in deeper sand.

The frame has been raked by about two and a half degrees over stock to cure the high-speed wobbles.

The rear subframe has been tweaked two inches for clearance and the swingarm strengthened.

Bates, one of the bigger aftermarket suppliers of the ’60s, produced multiple seats and a whole catalogue of accessories. They were most famous for their race leathers, worn by everyone from Knievel to Sheene.

This seat is the Cross Country model and was fitted to countless desert bikes. The footpeg rubbers are also Bates originals.

The MCM open pipes were tucked in tighter than stock and are the perfect diameter and length to maximise horsepower. Don’t let the rough edges and heavy-handedness fool you, these guys knew what they were doing and how to get every last ounce of performance out of a motor.

A Bast Brothers bash plate protected the case from boulders and the odd tortoise, prior to this most guys just used the business end of a snow shovel.

The air filter is either homemade or an early Q or Webco. There are a few opinions, but no one can say with any certainty. All we do know is it keeps the sand out of the motor really well.

The toolbox has been gleeped off of a BSA and holds a handful of basic tools, plugs and $1.10 – at one time enough to fill the gas tank – all wrapped up in a petrified rag.

There are more minute details all over the bike, such as the reworked kicker arm and the shifter that’s been reshaped so it’s easier to find with your toe... It was a machine in a constant state of development, who knows why it was finally mothballed.

I unloaded it from the truck and wheeled it into the workshop. All signs pointed to the fact it was last run around the time Hurst was knocking his third in past the West Germans at Wembley in ’66. Change oil, clean points, renew the disintegrated fuel line, new plugs and, most importantly, don’t disturb the dirt.

I won’t say it went first kick, but it didn’t take more than four.

We drove it out to El Mirage dry lake bed for some photographs. She still goes like the clappers. The tyres are more brittle plastic than rubber, so we reckoned that jumping anything bigger than an ant hill wasn’t going to end well.

Now it’s in the living room, balanced on an old crate. I have no idea what to do with it.

Every bit of me wants to get it in racing shape, but it’s survived untouched for 50-odd years and there isn’t another out there this original. I know, I’ve been looking.

Who? What? When? Why? Where?

Johnny Lewis Interview: Gary Inman Illustrations: Ryan Quickfall

Johnny, you’re one of the top privateers, an American Flat Track podium man and Daytona short track race winner, but what was your first race?

It was a motocross race at Pagoda motocross track, a couple months after I got my first PW50, and I think I got second. That was 1996, so I was six, turning seven. My dad rode, a farmer boy, riding on the weekends.

He never raced. After taking me to that first race he looked in the little AMA District book that told you what races were coming up.

We ended up going to the next race, which was at Trailways Speedway, and because my dad didn’t know the difference we ended up going from a motocross race to a flat track race.

My dad said, ‘There are no jumps, what is this?’ He had no idea. That’s how we fell into flat track.

I grew up in Pennsylvania, District 6,1 at Trailways Speedway, a bunch of car tracks, so we went to more clay half-miles. Brandon Robinson was on a PW, we were all from the same area. I rode motocross and hare scramble races at the end of the season. By the time I got on an 85 I was faster than my dad off road.

There were guys like Kevin Varnes [current AFT rider Ryan Varnes’ father], the Millers and a couple of the older pros from our area who’d take me trail riding.

When did you turn pro?

I was racing flat track, but when I

was 15 I got picked up by KTM to race supermoto. So my first pro race and my first three years as a pro were all supermoto. I was doing that while everyone else was getting experience on miles and half-miles.

I was racing with Micky Dymond, Kurt Nicoll, Jeff Ward... guys like that when I was 16, 17, 18 years old.

The explosion [in the popularity of supermoto] came when Red Bull pumped a load of money into it, then when they wanted out, they pulled their money and it killed the sport in the USA. My first professional flat track race, that I took seriously, was the Daytona Short Track in 2009, the last time they raced at the old Daytona stadium. Mike Kidd2 wouldn’t let me race the Pro Sport class3 because he knew my experience, so he made me race GNC1 and I was the fastest qualifier and made both main events that week. There were probably 60-70 pro GNC riders and I qualified first.

What has been your most memorable win?

The Daytona Short Track win was pretty memorable, but the first supermoto win was probably the one. I was 16, racing for factory KTM, I can remember it like it was yesterday. It was in Nashville, TN, on a big 5/8ths-mile oval, and we used part of the banking, so it was fast and the bike was dancing about.

Because of flat track I was used to it

skating about, that gave me the edge.

The others were nervous coming off the banking.

The Daytona Short Track win was in 2012. I won the first night, got the lead and checked out. The second night I followed for 24 laps, passed Jared Mees coming off turn 2 on the last lap, and he took me out going into turn 3.

What is your favourite track?

I know you’re supposed to say you’ve got to love the track you’re riding on that day, but the DuQuoin Mile, they call it the Magic Mile. I only got to ride it once. I was riding the Ducati, with the lead pack, for a little over halfway, then the bike started acting weird. You’re running three feet from the hay bales, wide open, all the way through the corner, feels like you’re almost drafting through the corner. I wish we could go back.4 What the best bike you’ve ever raced?

The Indian FTR750 is a pretty amazing motorcycle, to just jump on it and it work like it does. And there’s more to get out of that motorcycle.

Yes, I think you need an FTR to win the championship at the moment.

And the worst bike?

I remember being 12 years old and someone put me on a Triumph 750 with a fat gas tank, and the gas tank broke and spilled gas everywhere, then a cylinder shut off. That’s the

Appendix

1 The AMA, American Motorcyclist Association, splits the country into districts with their own championships and structures. 2 Former racer and AMA Pro Racing official, interviewed for this slot in Sideburn 24. 3 The name of the ‘support’ class before it was called GNC2 or AFT Singles.

4 DuQuoin seems to have been a victim of AFT’s decision to move more of its races closer to big cities to attract new spectators.

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thing I remember the most from riding a vintage bike. People come to my school and say, Hey I’m going to race a vintage bike, what do you think? I try not to be harsh, but I say, Do you want to be a mechanic or a motorcycle racer? It gets them thinking. I don’t want to be a mechanic. I changed a sprocket this weekend and that wore me out.

because it can get tough. I’ve been a pro motorcycle racer but I’ve also had a nine-to-five, working as a plumber and heating engineer for my dad and I managed a motorcycle shop for three years, before I moved to Florida. It makes it tough to be professional, working as a bike racer at the weekends and working through the week at another job.

What’s the best thing about being a professional motorcycle racer?

Being known as a relatively fast motorcycle racer, but being someone who can work with other people, it has given me pretty neat opportunities to travel, so I think the travel side of things. I get to ride motorcycles in other countries and relate to everybody, even if you can’t speak the same language.

If you could change one thing about pro flat track, what would it be?

I think American Flat Track are doing a good job. I’ve had meetings with them and have a good working relationship with them. The thing I talk more to them about is the amateur side of things. In the States we have nothing as prestigious as the UK Dirt Track Riders Association series for amateurs.

There’s not an amateur event that has the same feel. At the amateur nationals, there are no banners, no photographers, no videographers, no contingencies, nothing that lifts the sport. Not like in amateur motocross.

That’s what I went to discuss with those guys. We need to do something.

They just stopped the Arenacross series, but after eight supercross rounds next year they’re going to do eight amateur supercross events on the same tracks, and that gives it a prestigious feel for the guys coming up through the ranks. [Amateur flat track] could have the Sunday after Sacramento, after Peoria…

On the pro side they’re doing good, trying to

And the worst thing?

I’ll go back to the travelling,

Appendix

make a show for the sport, but the amateur side needs to grow.

Who is the greatest of all time?

I never got to see him ride, but I love watching Ricky Graham. I think I like him because he was taller and thin, and the way he rode the motorcycle, how he’d flip it around, how deep he’d ride into the corner.

He was aggressive and rode the shit out of the motorcycle. That’s what I try to do.

Who is the toughest competitor you’ve faced?

Oh man, if anyone in this day doesn’t say Jared Mees… He’s on it with the race programme and his training.

I wish I could go as hard as him [with his programme], but I grew up beating him.

There’s a love-hate in the sport.

Everyone respects each other, but hates each other too, because the sport is so cut-throat, begging for money, sponsors, support, teams…

What would you have to change to be AFT number 1?

I don’t even ride a full season. The only time I did, I rode for Triumph and the bike broke every time I rode it. It would need full commitment from me and a team. David Lloyd5 has been great to me, but before we even started he’d tell me that we wouldn’t do any TTs or short tracks.

I haven’t had a programme set up before a season started that meant I could go for the championship.

Hopefully, for 2019 that will change. I don’t think I could [win a title] in one year, but with the right team, do some testing, gelling with a mechanic for a whole year, I think I could do it. If I hadn’t broke in Daytona, I would’ve been sitting third in the points in the championship before I jumped on a plane to go teach schools in England and I felt I was just riding round, having fun. I didn’t even have a spare clutch lever.

5 Team owner of Lloyd Brothers Motorsport, who have run Ducati in pro flat track for a number of years, and Aprilia before that.

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Build your own dirt track SURELY IT’S EVERY dirt track racer’s fantasy to have their very own track. The thought of an idyll where you hone your skills, turning unlimited laps on a flawless, private track as the summer sun sets is very appealing.

However, most people would relegate the idea of attempting a track build to the furthest depths of their fanciful mind; it’s a mammoth undertaking with some weighty issues to overcome. It’s an awfully long way from whimsical pipe dream to perfect oval Utopia.

But top DTRA Pro racer George Pickering was unfazed by the challenge. As a farmer based in rural Lincolnshire, he recognised he was in a plausible position to create a better reality. Here are some of his thoughts on the lessons learned when creating Greenfield Dirt Track.

BE A DRAIN BRAIN

I built my first track in 2013, unfortunately I didn’t pick the best location. It was right outside my house. I just decided to get the tractor, drive it round and make a small oval. The dirt was very clay-like and we found it didn’t drain well. With very limited knowledge, we just kept riding it, not really spending any time grading it.

By the end of the year it was waterlogged. The constant compaction made the riding surface lower than the centre and perimeter, so when it rained it just filled up.

We waited for it to dry out, but it never happened so in March 2015 we relocated to 200 metres away. Even thart close the land is really sandy and I didn’t think it would ever pack down and would always remain rutted. On the plus side, I knew that water would drain through it and we wouldn’t have the previous waterlogging problems.

I’d say location choice is key from a drainage aspect.

In October 2015, with support from the DTRA, we went all out with another track modification, turning it 90 degrees and making a full-size race track. I dug out the centre and installed drains, took the dirt from the infield and put it on the track to raise it up and put a camber on it. When it rains you can see where the water runs off.

THERE GOES THE NEIGHBOURHOOD

I’m very lucky as I don’t have many neighbours nearby, but you need to think about possible noise complaints.

Add to that the generation of dust and these two issues can cause the biggest problems. We water the track to a standard where we don’t have too much dust, but noise pollution is the biggest reason for tracks shutting down.

I see a lot of negative comments about electric bikes, but personally I’m looking forward to them becoming affordable. As a track owner, potentially we would be able to ride every day and night and no one would even realise we were doing it. These bikes are not slow. We had one round our track and it was as quick as a 250cc petrol-engined bike.

TOOLS OF THE TRADE

As we run a farm, we already owned the tractors to carry out the work, pulling various homemade implements. We made that many different tools I couldn’t name them all; grading blades, tyre packers... They are mainly fabricated from scrap lying around in my yard or salvaged from the nettles. If I went to somebody else’s yard and saw something in their nettles, I’d try to get it! When things got serious on the last build, we fixed up my granddad’s ‘retired’ Ford loading shovel and a 1970 Hymac excavator to complete the work.

SIZE AND SCALE

With continued DTRA commitment to hold official races at Greenfield, we now have a 300 metre (1/5th of a mile) track and that is fantastic. The only problem is the amount of effort involved to maintain it. Then there’s the extra work for race meetings (provision of camping, up-to-standard toilets, medical room...). Within a few short years we’ve gone from putting a few hay bales out to being told what fire extinguishers are required. I miss the relative ease of maintaining a smaller track!

SCIENCE OF SURFACE

The track covers a big area and the soil type for turns 1 and 2 was very different to 3 and 4. As mentioned, the track surface was dug out of the infield and we stockpiled the better stuff and spread it out to create an even riding surface. I’m obsessed with dirt and the general consensus seems to be that clay is best. I’ve tested a lot of tracks and collected soil samples from America, Spain, Germany and Italy. I didn’t think it would get this out of hand, but I sent them to be analysed. Surprisingly, they were all remarkably similar except for a recent discovery from a track that Marc Marquez rides. I’ve ridden it and it grooves up like polished clay, becoming like a mirror. On analysis, it’s almost all sand with very little clay. I’ve concluded that as long it’s not either beach sand or pure clay, it doesn’t matter too much. It’s how you grade and water it over an extended period of time. We’ve built a good relationship with US AFT racer Johnny Lewis. He saw what we were doing and how much we were enjoying it. His advice has been invaluable.

TEAMWORK MAKES THE DREAM WORK

Regardless of track size, you need to be surrounded by friends who are equally interested and ready to work hard, not just ride. It’s not a one-man mission. They’ll get a phone call from me saying we aren’t going to the beach, come and sit on this digger for three hours because it’s going to rain tomorrow. I could name names forever but without Leah, Toby, Matthew and Freddie, it just wouldn’t happen.

IF YOU BUILD IT, THEY WILL COME

I’m possibly a bit blind to how people regard our track.

All the other tracks are good, but in the UK there is nothing quite like what we’ve created here. It’s in the middle of nowhere, it’s a proper dirt track with bales round the outside and it’s becoming a focal point for a growing community of UK dirt trackers.

Words: Dave Skooter Farm in conversation with George Pickering Illustration: Ryan Quickfall

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Sandriana Shipman The AFT racer who’s as hard as the nails that hold her together Words: Leah Tokelove Photos: Yve Assad

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HE INDIAN MOTORCYCLE Flat Track Nationals, presented here in the UK by the DTRA, still struggle to attract more than a handful of women racers, despite the year-on-year increase in female entrants.

So I often find myself looking across the pond for inspiration, at the success of women in AFT. That’s how I first stumbled on Sandriana Shipman. Scrolling through social media, I soon learnt about this woman’s undeniable passion and drive to succeed in the one thing she loves, because, she says, ‘There has NEVER been a day I didn’t want to ride or race.’

Hailing from Maybrook, New York, 23-year-old Sandriana has already kicked up a storm in the AMA Vintage National Series, winning the 2016 championship in her division on a 1988 CR250 J&M framer. Her passion for motorcycles was ignited at the age of three on a 70cc three-wheeler, which quickly progressed to a PW50, the choice of future champions.

Growing up surrounded by 12 first cousins (almost all boys) and living on a street which led to hundreds of miles of trails, it was natural for Sandriana to go get lost and dirty in the woods, riding anything that she could lay her hands on.

What started to become clear from our conversations is how self-motivated Sandriana is. Nobody else in her family races, which is unusual for a pro racer, let alone a female one, but she had the full support of her parents, with her dad taking her along to her first ever race. It proved pivotal, because ‘from there on out it was history’.

The 2017 season was Sandriana’s first AFT campaign. Further testament to her drive and determination was that she attended these races alone. She drove across the country by herself, worked on her 2012 KTM 450 SX-F unaided and, except for the help of a few personal backers, funded the majority of the campaign off her own bat. Her strength and work ethic are admirable and she was well and truly on a one-woman mission to prove her capabilities as a pro racer. After all, she says, ‘It had been the goal since day one to go pro racing.’

Sandriana describes how she was well aware that she didn’t have the same money or the resources of the rest of the pros but was determined.

‘I knew that I would make it work because that’s all I’ve ever known how to do.’

Often a racer’s greatest battle is in their head, with themselves. That’s not the case for Sandriana. I have

‘As the bike went down Sandriana was sling-shot forward into the path of another rider’

never come across someone so headstrong, if anyone can make it work, it’s her.

The big break came in July 2017, when she had the opportunity to fly out to California and race for Sammy Halbert on his 2016 YZ450 at the Calistoga round of the AFT series. She truly proved her capabilities when given proper support and backing, qualifying for the heats fifth fastest in the singles class and making it through to the main, where she lined up ninth. Sfter a gnarly crash she crossed the line in 16th in her first ever AFT singles main event.

People across the AFT paddock began to realise that Sandriana Shipman was a force to be reckoned with, showing how a little help can go a long way when combined with such talent, self-motivation and commitment. Her hard work in the 2017 season caught the attention of Rhonda Waters, a key player in the Waters Autobody Racing Team, and Sandriana joined the team for the 2018 season.

‘It was a great feeling being picked up by a professional team after just one short year in the pro ranks,’ she says. Now supported by a team, Sandriana had a lot to look forward to, but life has a funny way of kicking you down just as things start to look up.

In April this year, Sandriana had a huge crash in qualifying at the Texas Half-Mile, round three of the AFT series, one race after Yve took these photos.

Reflecting on that crash, she describes to me how it all happened very quickly. She went down in the second round of qualifying, nothing more than a simple low slide, but as the bike went down Sandriana was sling-shot forward into the path of another rider. The result was a broken right femur (she broke the same femur back in 2009 and had it plated), broken right wrist, four broken metacarpals in her left hand, a lacerated liver and a bruised lung. That night, she underwent surgery on her right leg, when surgeons decided to remove the plate and replace it with a rod that stretches from knee to hip. Five days later, a large plate and screws were fitted into her right wrist and two plates, 13 screws and five pins into her left

Racing is the focus and nothing else. ‘I never think about the fact that I am a girl racing against guys.’

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Sandriana carries enough metal to furnish a modest hardware store

hand. The pins were removed six weeks after surgery, but the rest of the hardware remains. Sandriana Shipman is as hard as the nails that hold her together.

At the time of writing, a good few months on from the accident, Sandriana oozes positivity about her recovery and comeback. Currently undergoing physical therapy three times a week and visiting a trainer once a week, she’s feeling strong, strong enough to sling her leg over a bike every Thursday evening. It is clear that Sandriana is fixated on returning to AFT fitter than ever, testament to her mind-over-matter attitude.

She’s one tough cookie, but the most difficult thing for her is pinning down when the comeback might be.

‘My mind is telling me I’m ready, but my body isn’t quite there yet,’ she admits.

One of the things I love most about flat track is that it’s one of the few sports where men and women compete directly against each other at the highest level, highlighting that this is a sport requiring more skill than strength. For Sandriana, competing

in the AFT series as one of only two women currently racing at the pro level, the other being Husqvarna factory-supported Shayna Texter, this observation couldn’t resonate with her more.

‘Every person has advantages and disadvantages, strength, training, endurance, smarts, experiences,’ she says. ‘This all plays a part and at the chequered flag it’s who put all those pieces together successfully and didn’t allow their disadvantages to dictate their results.’ Gender doesn’t even come into it.

However, Sandriana admits that, like me, she receives significant attention because being female is ‘still not something that is typical’ at the racetrack. Catch a glimpse of her tearing it up on the dirt and her gender is irrelevant, she’s just a badass who likes to go fast. Sandriana believes that racers, men and women, ‘we’re all interesting people and have personal fanbases that resonate with who we are’.

I was also pleased to hear that she shares my very strong dislike of the classic question asked of female racers, ‘What is it like for you as a woman to race against men?’ Sandriana’s stock answer is the same as mine, ‘I NEVER would think about the fact that I am a girl racing against guys.’ Why should we?

When we’re out on track, we’re all just racers who want the same thing, to ride fast and take that win.

Maybe Sandriana and I are fortunate to think like this because we both grew up surrounded by boys and became used to riding with boys who never treated us like we were ‘inferior’ girls.

Despite there being more women racers in the States than the UK, the percentage is still low. ‘It’s still surprising to see another female at the track most times,’ she says.

With Sandriana and Shayna out there as role models, then surely seeing women racing at the top level should be more typical in the near future. I’m determined to see it in my lifetime. Here in the UK, the DTRA are working incredibly hard at increasing women’s participation in flat track by teaming up with all-women biker collective VC London and hosting women-only events to encourage first-timers. Over in the US, Sandriana says she is ‘working on some really cool and exciting things to start actively encouraging more women into riding and racing’.

Defiant, driven and tough, Sandriana Shipman is going to jump right back up from being knocked down and I cannot wait to watch that comeback, because overcoming adversity is what she does best.

‘I do what I do because it’s the only thing I have been certain about since I can remember. I don’t try to make anyone understand it, because it’s not for them to understand. I have an unwavering love for motorcycles no matter how much I’ve gotten beat up and no matter what hard times it has brought me. I feel like the pros outweigh the cons every time.’

Sandriana Shipman, Dixie Speedway, Woodstock, GA April 2018

Survival of the

dumbest

Entering a Harley-Davidson 883 Sportster in a gruelling desert race was something only a bunch of idiots would do, they said...

Words: Bill Bryant Photos: Geoff Kowalchuk

(from top, left to right) Lots of these gadgets seem redundant and things like that big red box didn’t work very well but they all add some confidence when you’re knuckles deep in a silt bed and looking for the correct cactus to hook a left at; On the way to tech inspection; ‘You wake up at 4am to start racing at 6 and haven’t really slept anyway because you’re so nervous,’ says team member Otto; Crazy, high-dollar race rigs show how serious this race is. (middle row) Original Sportster tank held enough for 75 miles at race pace; Bill on the last day. (bottom row) Section times and team member signatures. The NORRA 1000 is a stage rally and the team never exceeded their time limit; Westy at speed; Filling the void with V-twin thud; Otto says, ‘Talking about the NORRA 1000 is fun, doing it is a lot of work. I wish golf gave me a boner the way motorcycles do.’

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L

OTS OF PEOPLE say they’re going to race Baja, but get eliminated by the logistics before it even starts. It ain’t easy to prep for a five-day race that ends over a thousand miles deep into a foreign country. In the words of Biltwell’s jack of all trades, Otto von Blotto, ‘We’re just too dumb to quit.’ Our target was to compete in the NORRA Mexican 1000.

Simple-minded or not, this bull-headed crew of ours was determined to pull it off.

We laid out a plan six months in advance and then stuck to it. When we had setbacks in testing – suspension not right, high-speed crashes, you name it – we doubled down. Our band of crusty misfits spent hours discussing the what-ifs and what the appropriate action would be in the middle of nowhere. We shelved egos and took advice from anyone who would give it and then distilled it down to what was actionable. We used that knowledge to get the front and rear suspension built and tuned properly. We fell in love with the Rekluse clutch Rusty Butcher Mark recommended. It makes stalling the bike nearly impossible. It acts like a centrifugal clutch on an old mini bike, except that it actually works. The bike, named Frijole [Spanish for ‘bean’], is so heavy that crashing through deep sand, blowing through a berm or a hundred other possible scenarios, made it really easy to stall.

Half the time when I stall, being short of leg and generally dorky, I also fall over. With this clutch, much of that anxiety was removed and all riders agreed it made the riding in tough terrain just a little bit easier.

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The legendary Ricky Johnson gave us an afternoon of his time. The former pro motorcycle, off-road truck and stock car racer competed in AMA motocross and supercross during the 1980s and won seven AMA national championships. He also happens to live in our hometown and is a friend and mentor. He still rips on a bike and ‘accidentally’ won (long story) the 2016 NORRA Mexican 1000, the race we were set to compete in. He dispensed valuable science that was less ‘elbows up’ and more ‘stop and look around before charging into a water crossing’. Some stuff seems so simple, but can make a massive difference in Baja, just ask all those who fail to finish.

About six weeks before the race, we knew from testing, out in the brutal terrain of Barstow, California, that we had the suspension, gearing and ergonomics as good as they could be. Once we made it to that point we focused more on using the GPS and started building spare parts. Despite four riders of varying inseam and ability it wasn’t as hard to agree on the set up as one might imagine. We’ve all ridden choppers and clapped-out vintage dirt bikes forever, so the fact that the Frijole had GP-style shifting (one up, four down) or that the riding position favoured shorter riders didn’t matter, we’re used to compromise. What we didn’t know was how well the human element would work out. Would our chase crew actually be where they were supposed to be at the right time? What if we had a catastrophic failure out where Jesus lost his sandals? What about injuries?

I figured we’d have at least one full overnighter working on the bike and a couple broken collarbones.

With that in mind, we split into two teams; Westy and me on one, and Moeller and Otto on the other. Each team had a fast guy – Westy and Moeller. Ol’ Otto and I were the burros.

Westy and I did three days with slightly shorter miles and Bravo Team did two longer days. Westy seemed to get the smoothest sections and made delivering a clean bike look effortless due to his skill level and disciplined riding style. Otto paced himself conservatively and stuck to our ‘ride to survive’ mantra, not crashing a single time. Mad Dog Moeller probably could’ve done the whole thing solo, but he dialled back his killer instinct just enough to keep the bean together. He did have one uphill crash in a silt bed that took him about half an hour to get out of. Trying to lift that beast when you crash with the wheels uphill is quite a chore. Moeller cooled off, had a snack, set up his helmet with a GoPro and filmed the extraction like Bear Grylls.

Pete ‘Hot Dog’ Finlan painting Frijole’s tank. Biltwell say ‘cultural sensitivities’ meant the H-D Museum declined to display their rally bike

Being the oldest, fattest and the one in charge of logistics put some additional pressure on me, but I enjoyed the process – even the painful parts. I tipped over more times than I care to recount, but recovered every time. I’m sure our team grew weary of my constant micro-managing and Rouser’s militant maintenance sessions. There weren’t many things we weren’t prepared for, Rouser never cut corners on maintenance and despite the long days and relentless pace of pitting every 45-60 miles1 it was the kind of absolute fun that your ‘normal’ friends will never understand.

We said from the very beginning that if we could just finish the race, we’d consider that a win. Coming in 27th out of 43 entries was closer to the podium than any of us thought possible and the whole process tested our logistical, mechanical and physical abilities, but that was the point really – to get out and see if we could do it and have as much fun as possible along the way.

With three trucks full of gear that needed to get back to the USA, we flew in our girls, shipped everyone else home on a plane and worked our way back up the peninsula at a more relaxed pace. I dropped twenty five pounds before race day by going gluten free and hiking religiously. On the way back I ate every flour tortilla I could find and drank beer like a pirate on parole. Once the dust settled and we caught up on rest, I’m back on programme and the Frijole sits proud and crusty in the Biltwell showroom. We’re gonna build a refried version out of the huge stash of spares that we didn’t use and ride that bike at some local fun races, but the legendary Frijole itself is going to be mothballed as a well-worn shrine to bullheaded ignorance, good times and great friends.

Appendix

1. Road crossings where fuelling/pitting can occur are often not in convenient locations. The fuel range on the Frijole was about 75 miles. So, many times we would ‘splash’, meaning we would just top off the tank wherever we could, without the rider getting off or any other activity except a visual inspection of the bike. Usually during our daily rider change pit stops, the team would do a deeper inspection or tweak stuff based on rider input.

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The Crew Mike ‘Otto’ Deutsch Biltwell’s events coordinator, social media manager, amateur bike crasher and all around do-everything guy.

His dirt bike skills have improved exponentially over the past few years since he discovered the joy of riding an old Honda XR400 and an even older Yamaha XT500.

Even though Ol’ Otto is known for crashing, he was the only rider to complete all of his sections of the NORRA without tipping over once. Or so he claims…

Chris ‘Mad Dog’ Moeller The man behind S&M Bicycles, the longestlasting, most punk rock, American-made, rider-owned BMX brand in the world.

He races vintage motocross on the weekends and rides his ‘kid’s bike’ at the dirt jumping trails almost daily. He’s as tenacious as a mad dog and can ride anything with two wheels.

Rob ‘Rouser’ Galan Our Mechanic Extraordinaire is on the pro leisure tour, generally found surfing in Panama or working on his Land Cruiser.

When he needs to get out of the jungle, make a few bucks and enjoy some cold weather, he comes up to Biltwell’s Southern California headquarters where he works on special projects. The Frijole project went well past the time Rob agreed to work, but he extended his stay for a few months and saw it through to the end.

Bill ‘Barnacle’ Bryant A washed-up former Marine tank driver, graphic designer and VW enthusiast who helped co-found Biltwell back in 2006. When the project started last fall he knew he had to drop a few stone or risk being the weak link.

Six months later and 25lbs (11kg) lighter, proving that tenacity can be more important than good looks, he never failed to bring the bike around and made sure that he rode some of the toughest and longest sections of the race.

Erik ‘Westy’ Westergaard Biltwell Product Manager. He works with company cofounder McGoo to develop new product, does SolidWorks drawings and happens to be the fastest guy in the building. He’s a former three-wheeler racer from the ’80s, can wheelie anything, still loves to Rollerblade™ and has an extensive collection of Patrick Nagel artwork.

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Like many Baja racers, Biltwell tested in the deserts of Barstow, California. They knew the conditions in Mexico would be very similar so if they didn’t break the bike there...

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Frijole 883

We could’ve done this race on anything, but a Sportster seemed most inappropriate and interesting. We’ve all ridden ’em. Rouser got kinda famous for building choppers out of ’em. Biltwell makes parts for ’em. Plus, no one has ridden one in the nine years since NORRA was reborn. One guy soloed an early Evo Sporty in the late ’80s at the Baja 1000, but it was basically a dirt bike with a Sportster engine. The Frijole is more of a Sportster with knobbies and dirt bike forks.

SPECIFICATION

2000 Harley-Davidson Sportster 883

Frame stock Harley-Davidson, rear shock mounts reinforced Swingarm stock Harley-Davidson.

Gusseted and shock mounts moved

by Roll Design, Fallbrook, CA Rear shocks Elka, custom Forks Honda CRF250. Internals reworked

by Precision Concepts, Riverside, CA Steering damper GPR Top tree Gigacycle Risers Fastway 2in Bars Pro Taper Adventurer Hand guards Cycra Front brake Honda CRF250 Rear brake Tokico 4-piston caliper with custom Gigacycle carrier Pegs Moose (modified) Foot control mounts Hugo Moto (modified) Throttle, cables, tools Motion Pro Carb CV with Rouser mods Air filter Four-layer, custom Exhaust Custom using Biltwell exhaust kit and shortened SuperTrapp Gearing PBI 65t rear/22t front Shifter modified Honda XR400 folding, mounted in reverse (GP style) Rocker boxes Buell PCV breather style Oil cooler Honda XR400 Fuel tank Harley-Davidson Sportster, clearanced for stabiliser Oil tank Harley-Davidson, customised with rigid mounts, two additional mounts and screw-in oil cap Skid plate Hugo Moto (modified) Headlight/fairing Baja Designs Squadron Pro Seat foam by Duane Ballard, cover by MotoSeat, Temecula, CA Rear fender chopped Harley-Davidson Sportster Rear rack Custom stainless steel Paint Hot Dog Kustoms, Temecula, CA Tank bag and rear gear bag Biltwell Exfil-11 and Exfil-7 Navigation Primary: Lowrance Elite 5Ti. Secondary: iPad mini with LeadNav app. Tertiary: iPhone with LeadNav app.

Quaternery: Road books from NORRA

JAWA 500 DT TYPE 890

ENGINE 493cc SIDEBURN #34

2018 1/3

Emerging in the late 1960s from behind the Iron Curtain, Jawa’s two-valve speedway bike quickly became the weapon of choice Words: Gary Inman Illustrations: Mick Ofield

45

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JAWA 500 DT TYPE 890

I

t could simply be the Cold War politics of the era, but the Jawa speedway bike encourages comparisons with Kalashnikov’s AK-47. Both were improvements of other countries’ designs, without being especially radical or groundbreaking.

Both quickly became ubiquitous. And if you were using a Jawa, or AK-47, it wasn’t because of a deeper political leaning, just a need for a reliable tool.

Ian ‘Tiddler’ Turner was a pro speedway racer and a shining talent in the King’s Lynn Stars1 who began his club and international career in the late 1960s, calling time in 1980. He remembers the first time he saw the bike that would dominate speedway.

Specification

Engine 493cc air-cooled, two-valve OHV single cylinder Bore x stroke 88 x 81.5mm Transmission direct-drive, single-speed Power 57bhp @ 7500rpm (est) Weight 80kg (176lbs) (est) Frame tubular steel single downtube with rigid rear Wheelbase 1321mm (52in) Fuel capacity 2.5 litres

Appendix

1. See our feature on Tiddler Turner in SB20.

2. Four-time Russian national champion.

Finished second in the Speedway World Championships in 1964 and ’65; first Soviet rider to appear in a world final. 3. Londonbased engine manufacturer, JA Prestwich, who supplied engines to, among many others, Brough Superior.

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MOTORCYCLE 493cc SIDEBURN #34

2018 2/3

It was over 50 years ago, and some details are unsurprisingly vague, but not the crucial ones.

‘I think it was 1967, and I was a big speedway fan.

I hadn’t started racing yet, but I went to see the national team from Russia when they came to compete in England. They all rode ESO speedway bikes that I’d never seen before.’

Turner remembers the excitement of seeing the Soviets, and their star rider Igor Plechanov, 2 on bikes that were completely new to him. Anyone who grew up in pre-internet days will be able to imagine just how thrilling this was. The young Turner, like so many speedway fans, had for years inhaled every fact

about riders, leagues, teams and bikes, then this most foreign of squads arrives with a pack of sleek 500s to take on the dominant JAPs,3 the only speedway bikes Brit fans had known for a generation.

The ESOs that the Russians rode were Czech, from a company that by then had been taken over by Jawa, another Czech company. ESO specialised in sporting bikes and had created their own engine and built a speedway chassis around it. Jawa were former arms manufacturers, the company’s founder, František Janeček, had invented a hand grenade that was so synonymous with him that the explosive devices were

nicknamed Janečeks. In 1927, looking to expand his business, Janeček licensed the use of a 500cc engine made by German company Wanderer. Then in 1929 the Jawa marque was founded, the name created from the first two letters of his surname and those of the German motorcycle manufacturer. After Janeček’s death in 1941, the company passed to his son, but following the end of WWII the company was forcibly nationalised by communist rulers.

‘When I started racing I used a JAP 4B engine,’ remembers Turner. ‘You couldn’t buy a complete speedway bike from JAP, but lots of people made

The Jawa 890: methanol-burning minimalism in pure form. One gear, no brakes, one function

> 99

frames. I bought a brand new Cole frame and it broke the first time I raced it. That was 1968 and not many people in Britain had got hold of Jawas by then.’

That all changed when world champion Barry Briggs began importing, and racing, the Czech bikes. ‘Within a season everyone was on a Jawa,’ Turner recalls.

‘Once you rode a Jawa you realised just how hard the JAPs were to race. The British bike had less power than the Jawas, but they were animals. The Jawas were easier to ride because they’d spin up more easily.’

For riders not entirely tuned in to dirt oval racing this might sound contradictory, so it’s worth explaining. Speedway bikes, and the tracks they race on, are designed to use the throttle to turn, so the rear needs to break traction, or ‘spin up’, to make the rear wheel rotate faster than the front wheel to get the turn completed. If the rear wheel isn’t spinning the bike wants to go straight. ‘The JAPs would die and pull in the deep shale,’ adds Turner. ‘The Jawa had that little more power and made it easier.’

Sometimes the methanol-burning Jawas had too much power for the track conditions, so riders would put a bigger jet in the carb or retard the ignition to take the edge off the power delivery. ‘The jets were so big you could crawl through them. Those Jawas would do something like 6mpg.’

Professional speedway riders, then as now, don’t expect to get a single, solitary lap of practice before the races start. You’re straight in, new bike or not, and that’s how it was for Ian Turner. The first time he rode his two-valve Jawa was in a money race for his team. And it worked. No wonder every pro speedway rider wanted one.

‘Lots of riders could learn how to broadside, but they couldn’t drive off the corners, they didn’t know how to find grip. They can look impressive, but they’re not going forwards.’

A bike that was easier to go fast on would have been enough for most riders, but the Jawa’s superiority wasn’t just how they rode. ‘It was a sturdy engine and it didn’t leak. The JAPs leaked terribly from the pushrod tubes.’

The Czech two-valve engine would be refreshed every eight to ten races, and even though an indemand rider would do two to four races every week during a season, this was an improvement over the JAPs. ‘Air filters weren’t as good back then. You had the bellmouth on the carb, then you’d find a nice young lady and take a stocking off her to wrap over the bellmouth. The stockings would split and let shale in, so the inlet valves and bores took a bit of a battering. I never worked on my own engines, but I had a very good sponsor and sometimes started the season with four brand new Jawas, so one would be away having its valves lapped-in or being fitted with new rings while I raced one of the others.’

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‘Frames were mild steel and had very good feel.

They bent rather than broke, so you’d find a big bit of wood in the pits and bend it straight’ Unlike the JAPs, the two-valve Jawas came as a complete, ready-to-race bike. ‘The frames were made from mild steel, and they had a very good feel. If you crashed them they bent rather than broke, so you’d find a big bit of wood in the pits and bend it back straight and get out for your next race.’

Very little needed changing. Engines would be tuned and tweaked, but as far as the rolling chassis was concerned it was just details. The early models came with a long ‘banana’ seat that Turner, and others, changed for a small, lower seat to suit his diminutive inside leg. The steel rear mudguard would crack due to vibration, so English companies quickly started offering fibreglass replacements. Riders would change handlebars to suit themselves too. That was about it, until silencers were made mandatory.

‘I liked that rule. Look what I have to wear now,’ Turner says, pointing to his unobtrusive hearing aid.

‘They were so loud, especially in the pits at Wimbledon when 14 bikes would start up. They were still loud with silencers, but not as bad.’

Being a racer, Turner was always looking for an advantage, so when JAP developed the 84S engine he bought one and fitted it into his Jawa rolling chassis.

‘It was incredibly fast until one night at Hackney.

I was having a good meeting, when the conrod let go and went through the barrel and casings. I took my new engine home in a carrier bag. I wasn’t the only one that happened to.’ He returned to the dependable two-valve Czech motor, sometimes experimenting with twin carbs, but always returning to the tried and tested formula.

‘The engines were very high compression, 14 or 15:1, and ran on methanol, but you could start them with one hand. Put the bike on its stand, get a grip of the tyre – right underneath – and pull the wheel up. Easy.’

UK tuners fitted four-valve heads to Jawas before the factory themselves moved to a four-valve engine to react to the increased competition from British engine manufacturers like Godden and Weslake. Even now, Jawa are still world championship contenders, having built on the success of that original bike with its twovalve engine.

‘It was competitive for 20 years,’ says Ian Turner.

‘The tool of the trade.’

n/a

SIDEBURN #34

CHASSIS

JAWA 500 DT TYPE 890

3/3

2018

Where is the rest of it? Children’s bicycles have more complicated frames than Jawa’s speedway beasts

SYD • BALI • L A • MLN • TKO DEUSCUSTOMS.COM

On Any Sunday, or Monday, or Tuesday, or Wednesday (repeat to fade)

Jason came late to the seminal Bruce Brown film, but from that moment things just snowballed Words: Jason Photos: Craig, Marco Renieri, Gary Inman

> 53

I

’M NOT MUCH of a film watcher, so when Sideburn Gary insists that I borrow his On Any Sunday box set, I say I will, even though I have nothing to play the DVDs on at home. My work computer has no sound, so I have to move into the laboratory, as that computer has speakers.

Detractors might now be thinking, Hang on Jason, I sit on an uncomfortable stool, in a chemical this bike sat under a tarp for 34 years, before being company’s stinky lab, a million miles from sunny washed, then put in a museum for another eight California, but am totally absorbed. This has never years and now you’re planning to race it next week happened to me before. Or maybe it’s the chemicals. after driving 800 miles? Well thanks for the ringing That was 2006. My appetite whetted, I did a bit of endorsement, Mr Cynical, but yes, that is the plan. flat track racing over the next few years and bought I make several attempts to start the bike, but it just various desert sled Triumphs, but it left me feeling floods. The float needle won’t seal. There are no spares more like Nick Berry from Heartbeat than Steve available at such short notice, so I try to make a new McQueen. Fast forward to one late November night in one in my lathe, which is ambitious, given that I’ve 2016, and I’m watching a bit only ever made swarf to date of On Any Sunday on YouTube (sounds like I’m dating swarf. as an antidote to the neverI’m not). It doesn’t work. I try a ending dark drizzle we call few other good ideas, which all winter. There’s a short clip, fail, and in the end opt for the you know the scene, it’s the one rather optimistic plan of just with Steve, Mert and Malcolm setting off for northern Italy sliding round on the beach. and buying a later model used Five minutes is enough to have carb on the way. me dreaming, Walter Mitty Two days later I arrive at style, and I’m soon googling Snow Quake, on the morning Husqvarna 400 Cross. of the race. I should have fitted Within no time, I’m chatting the new (old and dirty) carb with Rob Phillips of Husky last night, but I had been too Restorations in New York distracted. The ski lodge I was State. He’s the owner of an staying in had polished wooden ex-Steve McQueen 400 Cross. floors, and I’d spent the best Steve had a few Huskys, so part of the evening sliding while it’s special, it’s not up and down them in my new exclusive. But it is for sale. And thermal socks. So I set about I do need a bike for Snow Quake fitting the carb in the pits, in II, since I’ve sold my Borile temperatures of -14˚C (7˚F) and (SB23 cover bike). Hmmm… It failing. It’s so cold it feels like would be pretty cool. Deal done. my hands have been swapped The bike arrives a few weeks for useless stumps. Imagine later, January 2017, in a big trying to scratch your arse with wooden box, fresh from LAX. I your hand in a Pringles tube. In have just one week before I’m fact, try it for real. due to set off to the Italian Alps So you’ve still not started it? for the second Snow Quake – Oh hello again Mr Cynical, I had the ice racing event organised no idea you were coming. Then,

by Sideburn and Deus Ex unbelievably, old Pringle fingers Machina, in my van (they don’t manages to fit the carb and with organise it in my van, I’m not one kick it’s running – as is Mr sure where they organise it).

Cynical. I’m straight out to race.

Anyway, I’ve only got one week Twelve months later, it’s that Ice racing a bike that could soon become one of the most left to prepare! time of year again and I’m on expensive ever sold at auction. He’s a one in a million a plane to Italy. I’ll pick up a car in Milan and drive to Deus, then on to Riva Valdobbia for Snow Quake III and Deus’s Swank Rally that’s sharing the course.

I can take things a little easier this year, thanks to fellow racer Tom Clemans kindly offering to take

If you know On Any Sunday as well as Jason does, you know the scene he’s mimicking. And just remember how much this bike is worth...

>>

‘So, the bike in my garage, the one I’ve been slip sliding round the Italian Alps at Snow Quake on – twice – is the VERY bike I watched Steve McQueen riding at the end of On Any Sunday’

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my precious cargo in his van, along with a couple of other bikes. Good job. The event’s grown a lot since last year and I spot a few big names. Gulp. I’d better up my game, these guys look like they mean business.

Oh God, there’s a TV crew here as well. I’ll hide at the back. What the…? A microphone is thrust into my face. It seems that the bike’s pedigree has caught the attention of the media. Never that comfortable in front of the camera, I scrabble through a brief, mainly one-sided interview, and I’m off again, doing what I came here for.

The bike is running really well, and by some quirk of fate I actually make the final. Not a bad coup, considering my cack-handed credentials. Then, true to form, I cock up a gear change and finish at the back.

Lucked out, I guess. Or maybe not...

A few days later I receive the news that an old letter has been found at Vintage Viking warehouse, in San Diego. It’s from Husqvarna to Med International, the US importer, wishing Steve McQueen good luck on his new Husqvarna in the film. Checking the dates shows that my bike is just five weeks old at the time. Hang on, does this mean that they could be referring to my bike and On Any Sunday?

My good friend from Vintage Viking, Don Ince, made the discovery, and he thinks it does. Don follows the lead to Bruce Brown’s family. Nancy Brown, Bruce’s daughter, kindly offers to search through her father’s old files. She finds a letter from Bruce Brown to Camp Pendleton Marine base, confirming which bikes will be coming through security to be filmed. The letter makes reference to Steve’s influence on the Marines’ swift decision to allow filming. There, in black and white, is my bike’s frame number, along with those for Mert and Malcolm’s motorcycles. I’m fizzing with giddiness. I need to sit down and think about this. So, the bike in my garage, the one I’ve been slip sliding round the Italian Alps at Snow Quake on – twice – is the VERY bike I watched Steve McQueen riding at the end of On Any Sunday. Holy crap. Well blow me...* And that’s why I’m now outside Camp Pendleton Marine Base in California, with the bike, knocking on their door (when I say door, I mean big gate guarded by a massive Marine with a big fuck-off gun) to see if they’ll let me in for a ride round their beach. I do have a letter after all. Sadly, it seems they are all too busy these days, since desert warfare became all the rage.

I wish Steve was here to make the call…

Thank you

Massive thanks to Don Ince for his detective work and expertise. Thanks to Craig and Debbie who I accosted outside Home Depot in Lake Elsinore and, despite me carrying a huge plank of wood, or perhaps even because of that, they happily agreed to show me round Lake Elsinore where the GP took place in 1970, as featured in On Any Sunday, to take these pictures. *Not an actual request, only exasperation to news of magnitude

recce the

For a chaos-free adventure tour you need to plan. We go scouting in Africa with Vintage Rides Words & photos: Sophie Squillace

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RECCE, MILITARY jargon now adopted by the tourist industry, is a reconnaissance trip. I’m accompanying a small team from Vintage Rides as they scout a new destination – the open spaces of South Africa. Popular with bikers for many years, it’s a new continent for this particular bunch of moto travel experts, who already cover much of Asia, from frozen Mongolia to Sri Lanka. I’m here with Alex, the co-founder and director of the agency, Florian, the company’s India travel expert and François, a Vintage Rides motorcycle tour leader.

A recce involves little sleep, a large number of kilometres and a design brief overflowing with conditions. Ahead of the trip, there were weeks of preparation; hours spent on the internet, studying maps, looking at satellite images, analysing the terrain, looking for all the information possible on the themes that interest us, trying to understand a territory that we don’t yet know. A theoretical itinerary is jotted down before we leave the New Delhi HQ for the 15-hour flight to South Africa, full of hope and excited at the prospect of facing the unknown.

Our first sight of Cape Town is spectacular. Later, we stand together at the southern tip Africa, talking of trips, bikes and mechanics. Alex thinks immediately about questions related to this country, how to define the destination in respect to others, its specifics, its potential. Florian, who has a lot of experience dealing with the needs and wants of bikers, looks into hotels and activities. François concentrates on the itinerary and the motorcycles. Too many kilometres?

Not enough? Is the sequence of stages coherent? Not forgetting the mechanics, the garage...

Our priority is to build an itinerary adapted to our bike, the Royal Enfield Classic 500. South Africa has a large network of trails and Royal Enfields are very comfortable here, as long as we don’t push it or expect enduro bike performance. Neither are we going to look for highways with unending straight lines that a Harley rider might take. The Enfield is a modest motorcycle but the advantage it has is the ability to go just about anywhere. They have taken us through Rajasthan’s sand, over the highest passes in the Himalayas. From the volcanoes in Java to the frozen lakes in Mongolia. They have proven themselves time and again. Vintage Rides tours cover around 40,000 kilometres per year in Asia. We know this bike by heart and the staff understand its strengths and weaknesses. When you sit on a Classic 500 it feels like it’s been rescued from another era yet, at the same time, brand new.

We leave without back-up and with little luggage. We don’t have a choice; we have to travel light. A little oil, two clutch cables, an inner tube, a small toolkit. In case of a glitch, we have very few spare parts, which forces us to take better care of the motorcycles.

From Cape Town we head for the desert, Klein Karoo, with its western movie-like ambiance. The South African tracks are sublime, very easy to ride. The 500s are comfortable at 60-70kph, a speed that allows us to build daily stages of more than 200 kilometres while avoiding the main highway.

We head for Swartberg Pass, 1600m high, unpaved and 100% off road. Under the command of the engineer Thomas Bain, the route was carved out in the late 19th century by prisoners. It is supported by dry rocks, placed one on top of the other, which haven’t moved for 130 years. Swartberg Pass marks the entry point into the great Karoo desert.

The landscape is impressive, the trail’s turns are countless and sharp. From one side of the pass to the other, everything alters: geology, colours, vegetation and even the weather. As we notice the changes, the uncertainties and setbacks that can strike any recce trip begin. A sudden shower delays us and we’re forced to stop midway for the night, pretty much in the middle of nowhere.

To console us, we cook boerewors, traditional sausages cooked on the braai (Afrikaans for barbecue). The braai is a truly social device across the entire country. Watch out though, no gas or charcoal, that would be cheating. The traditional braai is fuelled only with wood. As the sausage sizzles, we have a debrief about the day and plan for the next few with a glass of South African wine. Perhaps we should include an exploration of some of the vineyards?

We’ve heard good things about Franschhoek, the French corner, curled up beneath a mountain background a few kilometres from Cape Town.

Gamkaskloof, nicknamed ‘Die Hel’, an isolated valley that we had pinpointed on the maps, turns out to be inaccessible because of bad weather. We look on the bright side, given that Cape Town has had a terrible drought for more than three years.

Several constraints force us to take a fresh look at our itinerary. We’d identified certain tracks on the maps but some are closed, because they are on private property, mostly game reserves, where the animals have been reintroduced and are protected from poachers. But doubling back and detours are all part of a recce. Every evening, we thought that we had the final version of what would become the Vintage Rides tour. Everyone has a go at describing it, giving their opinion on the hotel, on the distance, on the lunch breaks… But these are experienced tour builders and they know that there will be many more machinations before they’re satisfied: digest it, reflect once more, clear their minds, return to the route, to the same places, sometimes in the opposite direction... before finally being able to say, That’s it!

Of course, travel is not just about new landscapes, it’s about the people and we met real characters. Ronnie, the owner of the most incredible sex shop on Highway

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‘SOUTH AFRICA’S WIDE OPEN SPACES REMINDED US OF MONGOLIA, THE AMERICAN WEST OR LADAKH’

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Wish you were here?

Then head to Vintage Rides’ website

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62. Kensington, the ranger with the dazzling smile.

Edmund, the bio winemaker, or Angie and her fabulous burgers on the riverside. And as you chat, traveller learns more about the country they’re exploring and host receives news and views from different – often distant – horizons. One thing is for sure, Royal Enfield’s charm works anywhere in the world.

Everybody smiles at us and the motorcycle becomes a conversation starter.

Tired but happy, we return via the Cape of Good Hope, its wild coast filling us with strength and adrenalin.

The last few kilometres before Cape Town are on the spectacular, winding, cliff-hugging coast road, Chapman’s Peak Drive. It’s the cherry on the cake.

South Africa was beyond all our expectations. Its open spaces reminded us of Mongolia, the American West, sometimes Ladakh in Kashmir or New Zealand.

François pampered our three bikes with the kind of daily checks everyone is encouraged to make and we didn’t have a single problem, not even one flat tyre.

And now we can say for sure: we have designed a new motorcycle adventure. www.vintagerides.travel

ADDITIONAL INFO 2000km/1240 miles 12 days including 10 riding Period November or February - March Level Demanding 7-8 hours riding a day English-speaking motorcycle tour leader Accommodation Standard/comfort From Rider €3980 Pillion €2880 Tour dates 20/11/2018 to 01/12/2018 02/02/2019 to 13/02/2019 17/02/2019 to 28/02/2019 09/03/2019 to 20/03/2019 24/03/2019 to 06/04/2019 02/11/2019 to 13/11/2019 17/11/2019 to 28/11/2019

Harley-Davidson are in their fourth year of sponsoring X Games, but have they arrived at the party as everyone else is moving on?

Words & Photos: Preston Burroughs

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HAT’S IT LIKE to be a Hooligan flat track racer invited to X Games, the largest action sports contest in the world? It’s a lot like being invited to a prestigious black tie dinner. At first you wonder why the hell you were invited, but then you remember that your uncle Harley was the biggest contributor to the charity hosting the event and while some guests know that’s the only reason you are there, most of the others have no idea who you are. Part of you wants to run around with your shirt off throwing cake, showing them exactly why you shouldn’t be there, but the other part wants to soak it in, because who knows if you’ll ever be invited back?

Most of us have a pretty good idea of why flat track is in X Games. Harley-Davidson paid a garbage truckful of money in sponsorship and were able to bring in a sport that their bikes could actually compete in.

Harley have relied a lot on print advertising to reach their customers and while the older generations still read magazines the youth of today ain’t looking at no printed shit, let alone readin’. So for the past few years Harley have been looking for more non-traditional ways to advertise. The Hooligans with their social media presence has been one way, but they’ve also been dipping into action sports with X Games.

The only trouble is, pop-up tracks (temporary ovals built the week of the race) usually suck, and they especially suck when they’re built by guys who are masters of building massive dirt jumps not flat tracks.

There’s a science to building a good flat track, and X Games don’t seem to care to figure it out. This was the fourth year flat track has been at X Games and it was probably the worst track so far. It had square turns and the Tuff Blocks made the lanes so narrow two bikes wouldn’t fit down the back straight if you sprayed WD-40 on them. AFT #1 Jared Mees had to move the blocks around before the track was raceable.

Once they did race, the surface inside the US Bank Stadium, Minneapolis didn’t hold up long. After the first practice there was a mean whoop coming out of turn 2 and a weird bump coming into 3 (that combined to cause Brad Baker to crash and break his spine).

The track sucked but it’s X Games! The guys would’ve raced in a gravel parking lot if they’d had to.

Since its launch in 1995, the annual X Games – owned, produced and broadcast by US TV channel ESPN – has been the largest stage for action sports.

Virtually any action sports athlete to make a name for themselves did so at X Games. Tony Hawk did his 9001 there, Travis Pastrana his double backflip. New extreme sport niches have been legitimised there for over 20 years. It is the Olympics for the 12-24 age group. Any company with enough money looking to advertise to 12- to 24-year-olds gets involved with X Games. It was a no brainer for Harley to come in.

However, it would have made a lot more sense if Harley had sponsored X Games 15 years ago, back when it took something never landed before to win

Appendix

best trick and millions of viewers tuned in to watch it happen. But X Games viewing figures have been fading for years. Last year was the worst-rated X Games since it started and this year was down 35% further. Their ship is sailing.

But why? In the past ten-plus years we’ve seen hungry, motivated, unhuman-like action sports athletes come in and progress sports to a level that wrung their own necks. Freestyle moto probably progressed the quickest and was the most fun to watch explode. I happened to be in the target demographic at the height of it all, a 13-year-old kid planning my entire life around the X Games broadcast. Once it started I didn’t unglue my eyes from the TV. I even watched the commercials because I didn’t want to miss a second. I would wait until a sport I didn’t like was on to make food, or ride my bike to a buddy’s house to watch our favourite sport together. The intensity with which we watched matched the athletes’ performances. We had it bad.

This was before YouTube, so we watched re-runs, DVDs, and anything else we could soak up until the next year’s contest.

2006 was the year freestyle moto changed, when Pastrana landed that double back flip. He drank all the juice X Games had been brewing. I was there for it, standing silently in a sold-out crowd watching Travis’s mom cry on the Staples Center jumbo screen.

She couldn’t watch and we couldn’t turn away.

‘What the fuck is he thinking!?’ ‘We’re about to watch our hero die!’

I’ve never felt that much emotion watching someone attempt a trick. Like any good trick, we were pretty sure it couldn’t be done, but this one was a lot more gnarly because of the likelihood of death. Travis blew the doors off and just like one of those memory foam mattresses, once it’s out of the box it’s never going back in. It took Cam Sinclair four years to land another double backflip in the Best Trick competition, but once he did he won the gold medal. Textbook plateau. The exact same trick won the exact same contest four years apart. The barriers were busted.

We thought we were hooked on the tricks, but we were really addicted to the stories. Once all the barriers were broken the story got boring, I lost interest at the same time as I grew out of their age bracket.

Another problem for X Games is that it’s in a losing battle against today’s shrinking attention span.

There’s more information available than ever before and it’s in your hand. Why would you watch six hours of advert-packed programming to find out which of your favourite athletes won medals when you could just google it in 13 seconds and watch a trimmed-down highlight reel? If sponsoring X Games was Harley’s attempt at grabbing the millennial market, they’re ten years late. But they’ve always survived by being cool, and when does anyone cool ever show up to the party early?

1 A 900 is a skateboard trick involving two and a half aerial spins (900 degrees). It’s generally agreed that Hawk performed the first one captured by TV cameras, in the 1999 X Games.

e z a D t s La The

of

e m o R

Tuned in, turned on and freaked out in Biarritz and San Sebastián. A faux-hobo’s-eye view of Wheels and Waves Words & photos: Dave Bevan Illustrations: Steve Larder

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HE LAST TIME I was in San Francisco was a fast time in San Francisco. I was running from something and found myself running toward all the potential for vice and debauchery that that glorious, beautiful madhouse has in abundance, and at the time it just about worked out right. One particularly late and loose night, I ended up in receipt of a tab of genuine SF junkie acid in return for cranking open the sliding doors of the Bay Area Rapid Transport system for a legless Vietnam veteran in a wheelchair, which is the sort of trade that makes perfect sense at 3am in the depths of the 16th and Mission BART station. Having fried more than enough brain cells for that evening, I slipped the LSD inside my wallet and then forgot clean about it, inadvertently smuggling it back to the UK and through a few subsequent international borders as well. I guess a good way to get away with things is to not realise that you’re getting away with anything.

Starting a tale meant to be about a fast time at Wheels and Waves in Biarritz with a tale about a fast

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time in San Francisco doesn’t make total, or indeed any sense, but then again, thanks to rediscovery of that LSD, neither did Wheels and Waves, particularly.

If I’m honest, prior to going I knew approximately nothing about Wheels and Waves, other than, or perhaps because of, the fact I’d never considered attending, assuming it was exclusively for the rich and the beautiful people, of whom, alas, I am neither.

Asking around a few folks not necessarily in the know, a general consensus seemed to surface that it was ‘full of hipsters who can’t ride their motorbikes’, which seemed to further confirm my uninformed opinion. However, when Sideburn asked if I’d like to attend the event and write something about this multi-headed motorcycle fandango out on the coast, I was more than willing to find out for myself. Idle daydreams of whooping it up on the beach with the Duchess of Biarritz and pals were promptly brought bumping back down to something more in keeping with Sideburn’s earthy outlook, however.

‘I can probably sort you a ride there and back, and feed and water you, but there’s no budget for accommodation, so you’ll have to kip on the beach or whatever it is that you do when you go on holiday. Get me a hobo’s-eye view of how the other half party...’ the editor mooted, which sounded just about right to me, although I wished he’d not mentioned my hobo’s eye.

Soon enough I was hitching a ride through the night to rendezvous with Gary and Anthony Brown, founder of the DTRA, at a miscellaneous service station on the A1 in order to hop a ride with them down to Biarritz.

Due to work being work and life being life, I hadn’t slept for nigh-on 30 hours by the time I finally succumbed to the cousin of death and passed out in the back of Anthony’s van with northern France rushing past us, which lent the trip a nicely woozy, hallucinatory façade, which it never quite fully shook.

The blag was on from the get-go. Even though I’d applied, I hadn’t had confirmation of a press pass, one wasn’t waiting for me, and the €90 price of admission at the gate was looking dangerously like it would impact on my budget for food and booze. Fortunately, I’m not as green as I am cabbage-looking, and having enjoyed some extended periods of grace in previous lives scamming myself into various international festivals (it doesn’t hurt sharing a name with a legitimate journalist who works for music website Pitchfork either... sorry Dave, and thanks) I’ve learnt that hanging around long enough and being polite enough usually works out all right, and before long, the nice lass on the press desk was fastening a red wristband around my arm and my prospects for spending the better part of the weekend drunk in the dirt were looking restored.

It’d be all too easy to be overly cynical about the corporate cluster-fuck Wheels and Waves and its various components have become, and when I got half-drowned in wet mud while helping a good-looking,

Th ese rec ol l ec t ion s s t n e m g ra f y l re e m re a f r om t h e wh o l e h a p py h o o - h a exquisitely dressed lass figure out what had gone wrong with her period-correct vintage scrambler, which had conked out mid-lap of the Swank Rally (she hadn’t turned the petrol on) it was almost impossible not to be so. But then Sideburn pal and French twostroke fanatic Hubert Bastie almost landed on me when he went off-piste in order to hit a dirt jump in a cordoned-off area of the track, and something clicked within me (besides the archaic and inbuilt survival instinct which jangled my nerves and drowned me in a cold sweat). Yes, all too easy to be cynical when surrounded by throngs of endlessly replicating, expensively dressed rich not-quite-kids in standard-issue matching Deus Ex Machina, old-school tattoo and Red Wing boots on replicating, expensive motorbikes, but there are worse things in life than aimlessly wandering about a motocross track, beer in hand – access all areas with a scammed press pass – high in the Pyrenees, watching rad old bikes hooning about a muddy course. Motorcycles, particularly cool, old motorcycles, particularly cool, old motorcycles being ragged around an unforgiving mud track by riders of all ages and experience, is always going to be the right side of fun, and noisy, and dangerous, and get the sap rising, and I’m struggling to find anything to be cynical about.

A marshal vaguely reprimanded Hubert and me; it’d look bad if a drunk man resembling a low-rent Dennis Hopper in Apocalypse Now, wearing various clunky cameras like strange scarfs, got squashed by a hungover hero on a Husqvarna on a closed-off section of the track. And that was the start and end of any bad noise, as the goodtime semi-chaos ran on amok.

In the midst of that semi-chaos, watching Anthony pilot and Gary passenger Anthony’s wonderful BSA B31 sidecar trials outfit through the rutted, muddy turns was more akin to watching a weird, lesser-seen Carry On film than a motorcycle race, with the sound of Anthony shouting ‘IN’, ‘OUT’, ‘NOW IN... NOW OUT’ clearly audible over the noise of the British slogger’s engine, with Gary hanging on/out for grim death, acting out the bawdy instructions.

These recollections are merely fragments from the whole happy hoo-ha, as the days and nights have since merged into one long, sunny, spangled memory-mush, with various chunks out of order and/or missing altogether. I do know, however, that I took Gary’s seat

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in the sidecar and hopped a 40-minute ride back to the main village in Biarritz, which was a particular high point of the weekend (despite me nearly sending Anthony flying off the back when I over-eagerly took hold of the reins while he fumbled with a coat he was trying to put on). Then the picture fades somewhat, and I woke up early the next day face down in a lay-by next to the ocean, which provided the only (and much needed) source of sanitation the entire trip.

The race events are only a small slice of Wheels and Waves, which annually floods Biarritz on the French side and San Sebastián, just across the Spanish border, with art and music, skateboard and surf events and other such trappings that modern motorcycledom seems to be ever absorbing into its folds. Not to mention swarms of cool custom bikes ridden in from all over Europe, buzzing around town like a tidy plague of large metallic locusts.

It is quite a trip, wandering around the beautiful, winding streets of the olde town, in and among the ever-present rumble and roar of hordes of beautiful motorcycles of every conceivable marque, vintage, excellence and crapulence and is every bit as much of an event as more traditional bike shows, and the fact it’s a rolling spectacle is in a nice contrast to the static events.

A wild winter of wet weather, which had persisted right up until the Thursday evening of the opening of Wheels and Waves, had forced the traders and their stalls from their previous beach-front spot into a huge, generic exhibition space, which, when compared to a sea breeze and an ocean view, had its limitations.

The fact that the organisers managed to rehouse the whole ‘village’ (the term isn’t that much of a stretch; it is a massive affair) at such short notice is testament to the size of the event and the sway it has for the local area.

I t seemed a s if t h e wh ol e t h ing wa s a b ou t t o g o sideways, a n d n ot in t h e f l a t t ra c k sen se of t h e w o rd

Melting pot meltdown. Wheels and Waves’ El Rollo flat track pits double as a hangover recovery clinic

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There’s a lot of hanging out and about in between the various scheduled stuff at a big event like Wheels and Waves. I guess these times are meant for the captains of industry and business-heads to use to hobnob, booze, schmooze and/or blow cocaine up one another’s hobo’s eyes (or whatever it is bean-counters and industry-heads actually do). Or perhaps just have a kip. I tended to spend these times lurking about, chatting with friends old and new, splashing about in the sea, drinking Gary’s beer stash, kipping on various bits of roadside mud when it all got a bit much, and, on the Saturday of the El Rollo flat track race, held over the border at the San Sebastián horse track, discovering a long-forgotten tab of San Franciscan acid deep down in a recess within my wallet.

A strange, somewhat chaotic edge persisted and grew steadily throughout the day, which was ably aided by the relentlessly repeating Johnny Cash CD blaring out over the PA (we christened it JC – Live at Guantanamo). Meanwhile, the small, tight, rainsodden horse track turned first to liquid shit and then dried in weird grooves and ruts beneath the force of the rag-tag blend of racers’ wheels and clearing, sunny skies. At various points it seemed as if the whole thing was about to go sideways, and not in the flat track sense of the word, but rather topple over into something worse and more dangerous than mild motorised chaos.

The LSD took hold right around when I happened to be stood chatting to legendary 1980s skateboard celebrity Christian Hosoi (he was described as a ‘sulphuric skateboard star’ in the official Wheels and Waves programme, in a poetic turn of Spanglish which I still can’t quite fathom) as he was struggling to take a selfie, while simultaneously framing the madcap mud-dash that was the Heavy Metal Mini Bike heat and a very pretty girl sporting what I can only assume was a motorcycle helmet, hidden beneath a huge faux Indian chief’s feathered headdress (which was weird for a few reasons, not least because the girl didn’t seem to have any sort of bike that would warrant any sort of a helmet, let alone one so grand and culturally appropriating). It’s the sort of scene I now associate with Wheels and Waves, which after a while seems completely normal, until you realise that it actually isn’t at all.

Adding to the mounting weirdness, out on the track fellow ’80s skateboard pioneer Steve Caballero was wobbling around the left-handed path on a Krazy Horse Indian Scout in the Hooligan class. Skateboard star status or no, bumping bars and uglies with the Brad Hardmans and Leah Tokeloves of this world struck me a little like throwing the Christians in with the lions. But then again, these might just be the heady last days of Rome. It was certainly beginning to feel so.

Which brings me around to a thought that crept in, which even now I still can’t quite shake: No matter

Park yer cynicism.

Events like Deus’s Swank Rally at Wheels and Waves give lots of people their first taste of racing motorcycles

how great in terms of Mammon marketing and the king currency of cool it must surely be to have household celebrities mixing it up with hip-have-a-goheroes as well as genuine thoroughbred speed-demon racers out on the dirt, flat track, and motorcycling in general – let alone semi-competitive motorcycling – is fucking dangerous.

Now I’m not usually one for any kind of health and safety regulations. As far as I’m concerned, Motörhead are always right – the faster, the looser, the better. But even I thought what happened during the Hooligan last chance qualifier race was dumb. If you’re unfamiliar, this is the opportunity for riders to make it into the grand final and features the biggest, heaviest bikes in flat-track-land rubbing and racing and often much more besides. Even I realised that allowing a show bike, built by trendy Italian company Anvil, to ride onto the track when the heat was already underway (I guess, in order to capitalise on various photo opportunities for those invested in

By t h a t p oin t , I w ou l dn ’ t h a ve been su r p ri sed if a t ri be of Visigot h s h ad p ou red ove r t h e Py ren ees

the event) wasn’t a great idea. When it inadvertently became a factor in a smash up that could’ve been a hell of a lot worse, I was left wondering at what cost was that media exposure worth? An arm, leg, or worse?

It may have been the LSD, the Johnny Cash watertorture, the growing collection of empty beer bottles piling up behind the van and/or the increasingly strong Basque sun beating down upon my fried bonce, but it seemed to me that there was a steady-enough run of near-calamities throughout the day to constitute a classic comedy of errors; Cab very nearly stuffed his Indian into the crowd of photographers gathered in the middle of the track while trying to do a stillborn, rolling burn-out for their lenses. This mag’s own Gary Inman almost high-sided a brand new $50,000 Indian FTR750 during a trial lap, again for the sake of the marketing opportunities and Instagram ‘likes’ as much as anything else. Wonderfully named Dutch racer Dick Straap (I may have wilfully misheard this) stacked it mid victory lap while parading around with the chequered flag. Geoff Co-Built fell off the first place podium oil drum, mid champagne ceremony, buggering up his knee in the process (‘It would have been better if I’d got third,’ he later mused). And the unsavoury cherry atop this increasingly strange cake of a day, was Anthony riding off avec passenger on his BSA straight through a freshly laid human shit languishing in a gap between two parked vans, soiled toilet paper streaming out from the trials tyre’s tread in a long ribbon of dirty protest. By that point, I wouldn’t have been surprised if a marauding tribe of Visigoths had poured over the Pyrenees to rape and pillage us all out of our decadent crapulence, although thinking about it, I’m pretty sure that bit is the acid talking.

If all this sounds a bit sceptical and cynical, I can only offer that it is just one stoned man’s stoned recollections of a short, increasingly strange trip. It was also great fun, and a pleasure to be part of. British wunderkind Leah Tokelove smoking the competition in the Hooligan final was a particular highlight, as was the laid-back, fast and loose, arty, party atmosphere that permeates the whole event. Worse things happen at sea than swanky custom bike shows down on the Continental coast, Pappy.

For all my initial misconceptions, I had a blast in Biarritz and San Sebastián. If I were writing a fauxhobo’s rough guide to Wheels and Waves, for anyone perhaps suffering similar prejudices, it’d go something like this: If you can’t afford a ticket, blag one. If your bike is non-existent/won’t make it, hitch a ride. Sleep in the dirt. Bathe in the ocean. Revelling in the liberal capitalist fun-time atmosphere is easier and more fun when you manage to avoid paying for anything.

If it’s your bag, inadvertently packing a purse full of psychedelic aggregates for when the going needs a shot of weirdness will work. And whoop it up with both the wheels and the waves... Just watch out for any human turds hiding in the long grass on your way out.

High School Mechanical

The schoolgirl race engineers and the Milwaukee mentors who make it all possible Words & Photos: Ed Makowski

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F YOU WANT to get kids interested in learning, what could be better than motorcycles? That’s what the founders of the Build Moto Mentor Programme thought. Fittingly, it was the owners of Milwaukee’s Iron Horse Hotel that started the programme in 2011.

Up until this year, teams of high school students in the Milwaukee area, alongside their mentors, have reassembled and modified Honda CB160s or CB175s for road racing. The Hondas are scouted for by crafty Build volunteers, eager to discover what barn finds lurk throughout Wisconsin.

Teams wrench on bikes at schools, at local dealerships, wherever there is enough donated space for them to make a little mess and put it all back together.

With lower race fees in dirt track racing, and multiple races within a few hours of Milwaukee, the Build crew realised the bikes could be raced around the dirty oval more often than on road courses.

So, 2018 is the first year that Build bikes are being set up for flat track. Current top sponsors for the Build programme are Badger Heritage, Fuel Café, Iron Horse Hotel and Stanek Tool. Milwaukee Area Technical College also helps out significantly with parts and services.

I’d also heard rumblings of a first all-female Build team in the works and during Milwaukee’s annual snow-still-on-the-ground Frozen Snot Ride, I was introduced to Nerissa Cerny. Nerissa, an engineer for Harley-Davidson, signed on as a mentor for the Iron Angels. Divine Savior Holy Angels (DSHA), an all-girl school in Milwaukee, started the team and invited girls from the Milwaukee area to join. HarleyDavidson engineers were able to secure shop space inside H-D University, the location where engineers train Harley-Davidson dealer mechanics.

‘We often have one or two girls on different teams,’ said Kevin Frank, a board member of the Build programme. ‘We were inspired by the Angels of Dirt movie project (about Wisconsin racer Charlotte Kainz, who died as the result of a crash at Santa Rosa in 2016), and we thought it would be great to see a whole team of women working together.’

Kevin is also integral to the Milwaukee Rumble and is Captain of the Milwaukee Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride. He’s like a drummer, but for Milwaukee motorcycle culture – keeping perfect time in the dimly-lit background. Of guiding teams, Kevin says, ‘We make a point to let their dynamic

School student Stella Mireles sets the valve clearances on the Iron Angels' Honda CB175

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happen organically – a hands-off approach. We gladly help when asked, but also stay out of the way so teams can find their own way.’

Teams are responsible for seeking and securing their own sponsorships. ‘Aside from building a bike, we’re trying to instil other skills, such as communication, teamwork, fundraising and promotion,’ Kevin explains. The Iron Angels reached out to a wide network of potential sponsors and supporters and many people responded. Some coldcalled the team offering services upon hearing of the project. Artist Caroline Perron, who lives nowhere near Milwaukee, contacted the Angels offering to help, and the Iron Angels logo is the result.

I first met the team in March and hung out in the background, taking pictures and asking questions while trying to not get in the way or disrupt them.

The shop space was immaculate and clean, with large industrial windows offering ample natural lighting for the lone Honda surrounded by partially disassembled V-twin bikes. At first, the group was exactly what you might expect of a group of teenagers who didn’t know one another very well. Lots of quiet interrupted by planning and waiting. In just a few short months of Tuesday wrenching sessions, the bike would be raced by Leah Orloff, one of the mentors, and also a Harley-Davidson engineer. Leah’s daily ride is a Buell Ulysses and she also races a Honda SL175, so the platform is familiar to her.

Leah also teaches motorcycle licence certification classes; teaching about motorcycles has become second nature to her. ‘Sometimes people are so excited they scream when they get their licence.

That’s what makes this all worth it to me – helping people find what they love to do.’

By the time this goes to print, Iron Angel Bryanne Wolf will have graduated from Franklin High School.

She races a Kawasaki KX250 and started riding motocross when she was five years old. One Tuesday night, Bryanne and Leah were talking about their broken collarbones, both acquired in motorcycle accidents. Leah laughed at how her bra strap always

‘MOST OF US ARE ENGINEERS AND CAN DO MANY OF THESE THINGS VERY QUICKLY – BUT THE WHOLE POINT IS TO STAND BACK AND LET THEM LEARN’

gets stuck in the crook where her clavicle had healed.

She remembered I was in the room and translated, ‘Lady problems.’ I shrugged as if to say that I was aware bra straps exist and they didn’t need to explain. ‘Racer problems,’ suggested Bryanne, in a calm, unflappable tone. Indeed, broken bones are endemic to racers, regardless of any straps that get caught on them.

At garage sessions, contemporary dance music played in the background, to which all of the girls know the lyrics, sometimes stepping back from the bike to sing the chorus or take a dance break with wrenches in hand. The group dynamic is one of setting goals and accomplishing them – but less stressful than other garages I’ve been at. Is it because they’re young women? I don’t know, but that’s the unique variable. Nerissa observed that it was a learning experience for both high schoolers and mentors. For the mentors, it could often be a lesson in patience and restraint. ‘Most of us are engineers and can do many of these things very quickly – but the whole point is to stand back and let them learn.’

In the weeks leading up to the first race, the group had developed a marvellous excitement. Everyone laughed at inside jokes and worked to achieve the goal of getting their Honda in race shape. ‘If something goes wrong, it’s a learning experience, it doesn’t mean it’s somebody’s fault,’ remarked Nerissa. ‘We’re building a motorcycle. It should be fun.’

The maiden Build race took place at Beaver Cycle Club [yes, really] in Atwater, Wisconsin. On the ride from Milwaukee, the closer you get to the track the greater the amount of gravel you dodge in the corners of the road, flung there by bouncing tractor tyres. You know you’ve arrived when, amid farms, a small handmade sign announces MOTOR CYCLE RACES. The racetrack is behind a gravel driveway, situated like an amphitheatre between fields. North of the track and next to a calm stream is the pit area, surrounded by trees and swooping birds. It’s like a motorcycle version of the baseball movie Field of Dreams, and you’re waiting for Nicky Hayden to ride out of the woods and ask, ‘Is this heaven?’ Racer Dave Kilkenny responds, ‘Nope. Wisconsin.’

A full field of Build bikes took Beaver Cycle Club by storm in this first flat track year. In total, 12 Build bikes from the current year, or previous Build bikes also reworked for flat track, lined up to race. Leah remarked that track conditions were near perfect with a nice blue groove.

The Iron Angels took fourth place in the heat race, which placed them in the main. Leah said there was lots of contact during the main, and both she and the bike were performing well, but after avoiding a pileup that resulted from a highside, she again finished in fourth. The clouds held off until about 15 minutes after races ended, and as soon as the races closed everyone sprinted from the ensuing deluge. The Iron

(clockwise from top) The Iron Angels crew of students and mentors on race day; Mentor Nerissa Cerny gives a helping hand to fit the engine in the fresh frame at Harley-Davidson's university; Racer and mentor Leah Orloff exits turn 2 at Beaver Cycle Club's dirt track

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Angels will continue racing throughout summer.

Bryanne Wolf said it was nice to see some women at the races. ‘Whether racing or wrenching, it’s always with guys,’ said Bryanne. DSHA student Janna Lieungh perhaps best explained what was unique about being on an all-female team. ‘Here I can focus on learning, not worry about being an outcast, the only one.’ Since participating in the project, Janna has decided she wants to start an engineering club at her school, inviting women in the trades to talk to high schoolers about their work. ‘This experience has definitely changed me,’ she said. ‘People usually think of women as being engineers on the design side, but I want to do something where I’m working directly with cars or motorcycles. I want to work with my hands.’

Nerissa and Leah both told me that they participated in the Build project as a way to honour the mentors they’ve met throughout their lives. ‘I’ve had a lot of great women mentors and I feel responsible and proud to pass on that torch,’ said Nerissa.

If there is a better way to invite people to ride into the world you envision, I haven’t found it yet.

The fun of mixing teenaged would-be engineers, 50-year-old motorbikes, a target of racing and a handful of encouraging, relatable industry figures

Survivor Mike and his mean, self-built, UK-championshipwinning machine

T i d y We l d s Tight Budgets Fast Lines Sha rp Tong ues Survivor Customs Racing Words: Gary Inman Photos: Tom Bing

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T

HE SURVIVOR CUSTOMS lot. That’s what I call them. ‘Where are you?’ people ask me on the phone, while trying to find me among the hundreds of panel vans, E-Z-Ups and motorhomes in the DTRA’s sprawling pits.

I’m over with the Survivor Customs lot. If I wanted to be accurate I should really say the Survivor Customs Racing lot.

I met them individually. First Andrew Murphy. Oh, Murphy. Delivers witty lines like a Sten gun delivers rounds; has a mousetrap diaphragm only too ready to illustrate that his taste for booze outweighs his tolerance for it. He was leathered when Ryan Quickfall first introduced us. It was a memorable meeting. Like being attacked by a drunken Care Bear. A Swear Bear.

Then there’s Mike, who is Survivor Customs, a talented welder-fabricator with an aversion to anyone who takes themselves too seriously, and who I first met on a Sideburn ride-out in Yorkshire, where he arrived on a mean Rotax bobber fitted with trials knobblies.1 This pair, from the north-east of England, met through BMX dirt jumping. Mike takes up the story: ‘I’d had field bikes as a lad, because my dad was always into motorbikes, but no one had the money to own or race a motocross bike, so it had to be BMX. I got serious about BMX when I was 16. I spent most of my life at a place called Ayton Quarry, where we’d build jumps and trails. We made our own BMX scene. Right from the start, BMX trails was a very tight knit community. If you didn’t make the effort to build jumps you had nowhere to ride.

It was a cheap way to ride and jump on a weekend.

‘We’d build trails all winter ready for the rest of the year, then we’d ride a 16-mile round trip – every day through the school holidays – to get there. We built our jumps after watching videos like S&M’s BMX Inferno. PUSH and SOIL were massive influences, so were the old Crusty Demons of Dirt [freestyle MX] videos. Because of this, our jumps

ended up massive,’ says Mike. ‘We’d seen photos of Sheep Hills 2 and built our versions of that. Our jumps worried a lot of people because they were big. When I eventually got to ride at Sheep Hills I was disappointed. I didn’t realise every photo and most of the videos I’d seen of the place were taken with a fisheye lens that distorted the scale of the jumps, making them look a lot steeper than they were. That’s why ours were so mad.’

A local BMX/skate shop sponsored Mike and his mate Ste, taking them to King of Dirt competitions around the UK. More sponsors followed. ‘Most of the time we would have to build the competition jumps or alter them because what was there when we arrived didn’t work. I think, between us, we did every comp [in the UK] for at least two years and won a good few of them, but it was just about having a laugh and getting away with mates.’

There were trips to the US, wild times on the circuit, invited to out-of-control house parties, many of the Americans there trying to outdo each other to build their reputations.

Testosterone ran like water.

‘There were no motorbikes at that time. We’d just put our bikes in a box, fly somewhere and go riding.’

Mike attended art school for two years, ‘but it wasn’t going anywhere’. He left and took up an apprenticeship at the huge ICI chemical works in his hometown of Middlesbrough, an industrial complex that looks like a scene from Blade Runner.3 ‘I needed money to travel so I could go riding,’ he says.

The training taught him the pipe-welding and fabrication skills he now uses on a daily basis as a self-employed automotive welder-fabricator.

Eventually Mike did build a custom bike, a Suzuki GS550 chopper, followed, years later, by his Rotax bobber. ‘I made a flat tracker but it looked wrong and I couldn’t work out why. I didn’t realise it was because it had 17in wheels, and needed 19s. Then a lad I knew said he had a dirt track bike. It was a CCM on 19in wheels

‘WE’D SEEN PHOTOS OF SHEEP HILLS AND BUILT OUR VERSION. OUR JUMPS WORRIED A LOT OF PEOPLE, THEY WERE BIG’

Appendix

1 As everyone knows, a bobber on knobblies is a bobblie – as named by Dave Skooter Farm. 2 Legendary BMX jump trails in Orange County, CA. 3 Ridley Scott based his classic 1982 film in a dystopian future, the year 2019.

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James ‘Leftie’ Smith, a former pro BMX flatland rider on his freshly finished Survivor Rotax

>

Murphy’s first gen Survivor with its twin shocks. It’s now been converted to monoshock

with Dunlop tyres. I was doing some work for him and I knocked £1500 of the bill in return for the bike.’

At this point, racing motorcycles was what other people did, as far as Mike was concerned. Too many rules, too much money, too much hassle. Until he discovered Dirt Quake.

‘I heard about it through Murphy and Ryan {Quickfall], who’d been the year before,’ Mike explains. Both Mike and Murphy had their first motorbike races at the same Dirt Quake in 2014, Mike on the Rotax bobblie he’d ridden around South Yorkshire on the Sideburn ride out, while Murphy rode a Honda SLR650. Mike also entered the Rookie class in the DTRA round the Friday night before Dirt Quake, and both raced in the Street Tracker class in Saturday’s Dirt Quake.

Seeing the framers in the DTRA pits helped. ‘I realised what was wrong with my bike straight away,

but I had to make three subframes to get it right.’

They were hooked. They met UK racer Ross Herrod at Dirt Quake, who gave them all the encouragement they needed to join the DTRA and start racing.

Mike and Murphy formed SCR – Survivor Customs Racing. They had their mate, fellow ocassional SCR rider and by then already established Sideburn contributor, Ryan Quickfall, design a logo – a lucky rabbit ripped in two. They printed some T-shirts to sell, hoping to raise money to help cover fuel to the tracks. Not many UK dirt track riders have longer journeys to the races than the Newcastle upon Tynebased Survivor lot. Mike modified a bike for Ryan, and meanwhile Ross became one of the Survivor lot by osmosis, sharing the same sulphuric sense of humour while not officially being one of the team. Together, they always park, pit, drink and verbally dissect those around them.

‘The DTRA has the same vibe as the BMX competitions,’ Mike says, describing UK dirt track’s appeal. It’s still about getting away with mates.

Because they have never really been into DTX bikes, Mike decided modifying Rotax-powered CCM 604 and R30 road-going supermotos was the most affordable way of being competitive while riding bikes they liked the look of. A few years ago these CCMs could be had for £800-1000, now they’re twice that, probably due to demand from many would-be Thunderbike racers.

SCR’s lack of budget led to experimentation and making do. Mike did his research. He knew Yamaha R6 forks were popular in the US and UK, and that everyone tended to use flat track triple clamps, but he couldn’t afford them so he stuck with the Yamaha

Appendix

sportsbike clamps 4 and they worked fine.

He’d shorten the CCM swingarms to achieve a 52in wheelbase. He twin-shocked the rear ends, ‘because life is easier with twin shocks’ and, initially, cut up CCM exhausts to make his own, saving time so he could get racing ASAP. As newcomers the pair could join the DTRA’s Rookie class, but didn’t like the sometimes erratic on-track decision making of the other newbies. ‘I liked the Thunderbike 5 class, because everyone was riding properly,’ Mike remembers.

He was on the pace quickly, getting on the podium, winning races. People saw the Survivor bikes were working and started ordering their own and now there are a dozen or so Survivor Rotax racers in the

4 Flat track triple clamps have more offset than modern supersport and superbike triple clamps and, usually, have inserts to adjust the offset.

5 Thunderbikes is the UK’s dirt track class aimed at four-stroke framers and modified road bikes over 600cc.

>

The tall headstocks look unusual, but these bikes’ results speak for themselves

DTRA, including the two new builds shown here, owned by James Smith #143 and James O’Hara #66.

Mike’s own #35 bike developed, then he sold his MkI. ‘Racing at Amman Valley made me really want to have a monoshock frame.’ This Welsh track is the longest on the UK schedule, though still under halfa-mile. Its deep, sandy gravel ruts up and stubs the spines of twin-shock framer and vintage bike riders.

‘I wanted the extra travel and adjustment. And it’s easier to find a good used monoshock at the right price than good twin shocks.’

Mike sourced a chromoly ATK frame that he cut up and modified until he was happy with it. He made his own subframe; modified a fancy alloy Vertemati swingarm to accept a side-mounted single shock, then made his own stainless steel exhaust. He used the new monoshock Survivor to win the DTRA Thunderbike championship in 2017, in what was the bike’s first season.

The Survivor Customs’ racers often camp out at the track with their wives and girlfriends, and while not all riders on Survivor bikes are part of the crew, during the 2016 season another BMX rider, ‘Texas’ Chris Jenner, joined SCR, first racing a Yamaha XS650, then on another Rotax, which Mike would

eventually monoshock.

Three of the four bikes in these photos are monoshocks, and Mike keeps developing his conversions, most recently looking at how the Indian FTR750 sits, ‘because it just looks right’. Both the new bikes were based on CCM 604s. Conversions cost £67000 plus the donor bike, with the hardest part being ‘putting them together after powder-coating’.

Meanwhile, Mike has built a frame from scratch to house a Honda CRF450 and that frame is pointing a new direction for Survivor. ‘There’s a new flat track chassis coming soon: full chromoly, a generic frame designed to suit Rotax and Honda CRF450 engines, but should be able to fit most single-cylinder engines with different mounting plates. The price will be around £2500 for the bare frame, swingarm and oil tank,’ he says.

The Survivor boys’ commitment to racing was rewarded in June this year with a DTRA round at Redcar, just 30 miles from their home. Dozens of friends and family arrived to see them race live for the first time, and Mike didn’t disappoint, coming back from injury, caused by a pile-up earlier in the season, to win the Thunderbike final.

Survivors indeed.

Words & Photos: Ed Subias

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D

AYTONA BEACH. Bike Week. We’ve all seen the images: cartoonish Harleys with bad paint jobs; middle-aged women with saggy boobs on display; men just being boobs in general. It can feel like Spring Break for the geriatric set.

A short distance away from Main Street’s beersoaked buffoonery there’s a completely different world. New Smyrna Beach Speedway, just 14 miles south, hosts scenes that haven’t been witnessed for nearly a century. A frenzied gaggle of board track racing motorcycles from the 1920s are going full tilt handlebar to handlebar through a haze of burning oil and gasoline. This two-wheeled revelry and bravado is called Sons of Speed.

Sons was founded by the last person you might expect. Billy Lane, owner of Choppers Inc, gained fame at the turn of the millennium in the Discovery Channel’s Biker Build-Off. The show helped spawn the custom craze that has since infiltrated the mainstream and Billy created some of the most innovative custom V-twin motorcycles, traditional choppers and bobbers.

He’s not known for vintage race bikes.

But there were clues if you ever watched some of those shows. Some of the details of his builds are rooted in vintage racing of some sort and he’d make mention of racing here and there. Also, what came across was his genuine love of motorcycles of all sorts and his penchant for hauling ass no matter what he is riding.

Fast forward to a few years ago. Billy was looking to start a new chapter in his life, on both the personal and motorcycle side. He had been out of the moto industry for a few years after paying his dues.1 He started organising and advocating something that was deep within his heart and soul. In March 2017, the first Sons Of Speed event was held. Pre-1925 1000cc American V-twins with no clutch or brakes took to the half-mile paved, banked oval race track in New Smyrna Beach.

Matt Harris, who races a 1923 Harley-Davidson JD2 says, ‘It’s an experience that nobody has had for nearly 100 years. A pack of board track racers going full throttle around a track is quite the sight to behold and something you won’t soon forget. The sounds and smells that emit from those old engines is something very special and nostalgic.’

There have been three Sons Of Speed races since March 2017. One in Sturgis, SD, and a couple more in New Smyrna Beach. The events have garnered heaps of attention and interest from the motorcycling audience and industry and it has grown to include more racers due to the introduction of an additional class for the ‘new’ bikes, that is, 1930 and ’40s tank shifters.

As racer eBay Jake puts it, ‘It’s like racing in a dream.

You can almost imagine yourself battling it out with the founders of Harley-Davidson.’ Et vendend

Appendix

1. In 2009 Lane was sentenced to six years in prison for his involvement in a fatal road crash in 2006. He crossed double yellow lines when overtaking in a Dodge Ram and struck an oncoming motorcycle. At the time, Lane’s blood alcohol was more than twice Florida’s legal limit. He was released from prison in 2014. 2. The Harley-Davidson JD, introduced in 1922, is a 74cu.in (1200cc) inlet-over-exhaust V-twin with threespeed, hand-shift gearbox. They’re capable of up to 70mph in standard road trim, but over 100mph on a board track in their heyday.

Bill Rodencal is the vehicle collections specialist for the Harley-Davidson Museum. He has ridden this race bike, a rare 1915 H-D 11-K, across the country a few times in the Motorcycle Cannonball (read his story in SB28). You can bet his immense knowledge of these bikes helps keep his running as good as it did when it came off the assembly line

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(this page, clockwise from top left) Matt Harris is a custom bike builder from Alcoa, Tennessee, who gained notoriety for the chopper builds that rolled out of his 40 Cal Customs shop. A few years back, Matt was bitten by the racing bug and realised his dream of competing at the Bonneville Salt Flats during speed week. On this bike, Matt built the frame, forks, bars and nearly everything else, except for the 1923 Harley JD motor, rims and tyres; Perry E Mack was an engineer and the very first Harley-Davidson employee. He was only with the company for a few years before he left in 1906 to pursue his own ideas of motors and motorcycles. He pioneered OHV engine designs used by long-forgotten American manufacturers Jefferson, PEM and Waverley. The valves in this engine are left exposed for cooling purposes while the rockers and valves are oiled by hand between runs; Go Takamine, inventor of the Brat Style of custom motorcycles, raced a 1946 Harley-Davidson WR Flathead in the handshift class, built  by Matt Olsen of 20th Century Racing; four wide on the first lap!

(this page, clockwise from top left) If you’ve ever watched any motorcycle reality TV shows Rick Petko’s face may be familiar. He was part of the American Chopper cast for six years as the lead fabricator, but don’t hold that against him, Rick is a real deal motorcycle enthusiast who participates in vintage races all over the country. His 1919 Indian showcases his handiwork way better than those fat-tyred choppers ever could. The bike is what board track racer dreams are made of; Billy Lane and his 1911 Indian.

Direct drive, no brakes and old-style football helmet for ‘safety’; ride ’em don’t hide ’em. These museum-quality board trackers were pushed to the limits of their engineering and, in turn, pushed rider capabilities just like in the 1920s; the green flag about to drop for the rolling start.

REBELS ALLIANCE

World renowned artist DFace tells us about his East London motorbike experimental art retail store thing

SHOP

What is Rebels Alliance?

Good question. Originally I thought of it as a coffee shop, then as a clothing store, but it’s always really been about building bikes. But all the time I’ve defined it as those three things, I’ve struggled with it. I think the best viewpoint is it’s an art experiment based upon the motorcycle.

Photos: Gary Inman

When did you open?

December 2016 at this physical location. Prior to that it was the front space of my old studio for a few years.

This seems an expensive area of London to be experimenting in...

I’m fortunate that my landlord owns a few properties and is a big fan of what I do. When I was looking for a new studio he said he had a small place I could have at the best rent, which is still not cheap. It didn’t work as a studio, it was too small and I didn’t want a shop front, then I started wondering if it could be what Rebels was in my head. But I didn’t need another project, I had enough going on. The landlord gave me a week to think about it and every day I knew I didn’t want it. I needed to do less not more. Then he called and I said, Yeah, I’ll take it. I still don’t know why.

We fitted it out, then I got a studio space very close by, which made it convenient and make more sense. For the first two years I was subsidising it, and I was OK with that because it was an experiment, but now it’s selling bikes, selling clothing and finally selling more coffee.

What do you wish you knew then that you know now?

We fitted it out with what we had lying about and the only thing we really invested in was a good coffee machine.

The original thought was the coffee

D, jet-lagged from a gallery show and painting a large mural in Seattle

would supplement the bike building.

It always had to be a place you could have a coffee and see bikes being built.

We had to be what we started out as: building bikes for the hell of building bikes, because we like riding bikes, and give the same experience of going in your dad’s shed – the smell and feeling of something creative happening, DIY, punk mentality – that I very much embrace. I thought the coffee would be really popular, but round here the competition is too strong. If I’d been more analytical, do you really want a coffee while you stare at someone building a motorbike? Most people just want decent coffee and free wi-fi. So I wouldn’t have invested as much in coffee. But ours is really good coffee.

Where did the name come from?

Not Star Wars, more about the spirit of motorcycling. People look at you on

a bike and think of you as some kind of outcast from society, and I like that. This is a meeting point for those like minds.

What were the influences?

I travel a lot. In Japan I’d see small, condensed, very precisely put together, curated shops. Then a heavy dose of modern American vintage sensibilities, Californian culture, going to Deus in Venice for a coffee…

Who are the key people in the business?

It’s the sum of me, Jappa and Boots.

Jappa is the creative genius here. He has a master’s from Honda, master’s from Suzuki, he’s an electrical wizard too. He puts engines together from boxes of a thousand parts and I think, How does he do that?

Our bikes are very art-focused.

Sometimes, like the Felipe bike, with the tank painted by Felipe Pantone (above, right), the whole bike is advised by that

‘DFace! Mate!

How much did you spend on this coffee machine?’

data REBELS ALLIANCE working week ADDRESS 64 SCLATER STREET, LONDON, E1 6HR PHONE THEY’RE NOT TELLING EMAIL TRY POSTING THEM A LETTER WEB

SIVE EXPEN MOST Alliance

BEST SELLER

Rebels i Yamaha Rakura £25,000 SR620

Skull Bolt T-shirt £30

E NSIV EXPE T S A LE sso

REBELSALLIANCE.COM

e Espr £2

TIME BREAKDOWN Avoiding hearing tales of someone’s CB550 build 4%

tank, or it’s more subtle details with my influence on a bike. Our prices range from £5000 for a 125. The bigger bikes are £20-25,000.

You don’t stock anyone else’s stuff?

Retail has died, it’s a window for the internet. People go into a shop to try something on, then order it online. For me, it made no sense to sell our stuff anywhere else, or to stock anyone else’s stuff, if you can buy it direct.

It was more about coming to us and experiencing what Rebels is and buying something from us. I want to make the experience significant so people do want to come down here.

So what does the future hold for Rebels Alliance?

At the minute I’m trying to clear the bikes we’ve bought and not finished, so everything we have is done and running. Longer term, I’m fascinated

Building bikes 39% Designing new T-shirts, etc 16%

Dreaming about our next project bike 14%

with electric bikes. The more I play with old bikes, the more I’m frustrated with them. There’s talk of a Rebels Alliance in Los Angeles, realistically it would probably work better there than in the UK, people are more receptive to this kind of thing there.

Rebels isn’t me, but I like painting a jacket if I have a spare few minutes, and I really love designing the T-shirts. If I do a DFace T-shirt, it comes with a certain pressure of all the stuff that comes with [the name]. Once you’re known for doing something, that’s what’s expected.

Drinking coffee 11%

Customising old jackets 10%

Selling coffee 6%

People don’t want to see you break that trend. If I design a Rebels T-shirt I have complete freedom.

I think the bikes we build will go up in value, where a new bike from a showroom won’t. I’ve ridden bikes since I was 16 and still get excited by taking an old bike and making it look like something never seen before. I’m still excited by finding WWII military gear in a warehouse, something that’s had a massive life before yours. I want our bikes to be used and have a life after the one we created. I want to build bikes that will outlive us.

105

RaceWear

Trusted: John Harrison is one of the most liked characters on the UK scene, a budget racer and a style master. These are his race essentials 1 Boots and hot shoe

Lace-up work boots (and gloves) from a former job. Self-made hot shoe with dog-collar leather strap that has ‘Velocitas Sinistro’ tooled into it by a leather worker. Nobody has ever noticed it, but it’s the sort of detail that tickles me.

2 Hat

Straw hat in the summer to keep the sun out of my eyes and off my bald pate, beanie with torch when it’s cold.

Photos: John Harrison (kit), Andy Jerkyl (action), Gary Inman (pit)

3 Leathers

They had to be one-piece. I found these on eBay and decorated them with metalflake vinyl with my number and Triumph. I finally felt confident enough to add my name across the shoulders this year. In the Triumph style, of course.

4 Bell helmet

Because I race in my own early-’70s twilight zone, I had to have a helmet as close to a Bell Star 1 as possible. This is a modern version made for a short time in 2014 to FIA spec for the classic car racers. It affords little peripheral vision and is very quiet, which I soon realised is an advantage in a race as I can’t get spooked by other riders close by if I’m not aware of them.

5 Hopes and dreams

Of riding like a Boss!

6 Compressor and tyre pressure gauge

I never used to adjust tyre pressures on my old-style tyres until I spoke to David Aldana about how they used to run them. Up to that point I’d never encountered anyone with experience of racing this rubber. He explained

how he ran them on different surfaces, which made sense, so now I adjust and make notes. When the other Vintage riders come round to using them I shall be the tyre pressure oracle!

7 Toolbox and Workmate

My trusty old Snap-on box filled with everything I think I may need. The Workmate is useful when there are no benches in a pit to sit the toolbox on, and I’ve made a worktop where I can put my helmet down and keep things off the ground.

Name John Harrison Age 59 Job Steel fabricator Hometown Corfe Castle, Dorset. UK Bikes 1942 Harley-Davidson WL45 1972 Triumph TR6R

8 Van

I quickly learnt relying on a car and trailer made racing difficult. Vans are the way to go. My trusty ex-builder’s Transit with 220,000 miles on the clock was a fantastic buy for £600.

9 Race food

I used to favour fig rolls but nowadays always have pre-sliced malt loaf handy. Water is from our own spring at home. No chemicals, only minerals.

10 Spray bottle, paper towel

To clean off my helmet, tear-offs (I’m cheap), etc after mucky races.

11 Protection

Back protector, kidney belt and long johns with knee pads stuffed down on knees and hips. I tried making a torso protector out of a yoga mat, but there’s insufficient room inside my leathers.

12 Chair

Army surplus. I tend to need a nice sit down after a race.

13 Cordless tools

I bring as many spares as possible to races. I carry as much as I can just in

case I need to carry out some mods. I’d hate to not be able to race for need of a cordless drill, grinder or vice.

14 Spares boxes

Same as the tools. I don’t want to miss a race for the lack of a cable, chain or lever. I learnt this lesson at King’s Lynn three years ago when my friend Rick B’s primary belt disintegrated in heat three. He didn’t have a spare belt but did have a complete belt drive kit from a different manufacturer. There was a mad thrash to swap the lot, hot clutch included. We got him on the grid just in time... and he beat me. Doh!

15 Paddock stand and mat

Paddock stand is great. No messing about to find the prop stand, plus the benefit of being able to stand on both pegs to kickstart the highcompression Triumph motor (which becomes an issue when you’re pushing 60 and not as strong as you once were). The mat was bought for Hells Race (it’s a pit requirement on the Continent) and matches my bike’s livery and era perfectly.

7 10

8

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11

12 6 13

5 4 14

3

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EVENT

flat track August_poster_rev_OL_print.pdf

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2018-06-27

1:44 PM

Vancouver Flat Track, Pemberton, Canada

Words: Norm Motorcycho Photos: Norm, Matt Savage, VFTC Flat track anywhere near Vancouver, British Columbia, had been pretty much non-existent for many years. The only flat track race that occurred anywhere near the city was the once-a-year event held at the O’Keefe Ranch in Vernon, BC and that’s a small, oval, horse track used for lawnmower racing and ‘vintage’ flat track. Plus it’s about five hours north of Vancouver.

Still, that yearly event was enough to spawn the fabled Scorpions Vintage Flat Track Club (featured in Sideburn 3) which some might argue lit the fire and inspired the formation of the current Vancouver Flat Track Club and the part it has played in the recent resurgence of racing in the area.

This report is from the last of three races scheduled for the summer of 2018 at Pemberton, a much better track that is an easier two hours from Vancouver, and is promoted by the Vancouver Flat Track Club (VFTC, not to be confused with VFT.org, the online small ads service for the flat track community). VFTC’s growth is mirroring the rest of the world’s enthusiasm for amateur flat track.

Long may it continue. I wanna race!

HAND-ME-DOWN TROPHIES

A few Dirt Quake USAs ago, Niki approached the Mount St Helens Motorcycle Club, who promote races at the Castle Rock racetrack, and through some sweet negotiating skills and a smile that can melt the coldest of hearts managed to get a truckload of old trophies they no longer had use for. These once-loved castaways have found new homes in garages and mantels across British Columbia.

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CROWD FAVOURITE

If you stood on the corner of Hastings and Clark, the hypothetical centre of now-hip East Vancouver, and threw a rock in any direction, chances are you would hit a craft brewery. VFTC took a more kindly approach and collaborated with the East Van Brewing Company to produce a special version of their KickStart Pale Ale. The brewery describe it being made from

Vancouver Flat Track Vancouverflattrackclub. com @vancouverflattrackclub

NIKI

Racing at Pemberton would not happen if were not for the hard work of Niki Kendall and the core members of the Vancouver Flat Track Club. Niki and her cast of many have worked tirelessly in not only organising the races, but also helping bring races by the promoters Flat Track Canada out west. Niki has also reached out to Vancouver racers from decades past and has helped facilitate an archive of Vancouver flat track history. She’s as nice as they come!

Jen Deon deoncreative.com Motorcycho Motorcycho.com @motorcychomagazine VINTAGE MEATWAGON

Doug House has been the VFTC paramedic since the very first race.

He worked at the famed Westwood track back in the day and has become such a fan of the VFTC that he regularly contributes $100

ROY AND JANGUS

MAKE IT RAIN

‘Canadian Pilsner and Light Crystal Malt, Northwest Hops. Balanced to perfection, medium bodied, an instant crowd favourite’. It was a great touch to help celebrate the last race of the 2018 Pemberton season and give spectators something to do while the water truck was taming the track. The can artwork was created by regular local racer Jen Deon. Jen also does all the poster and T-shirt artwork for VFT.

towards the Dash for Cash. He also donates his walkie talkies and headsets to the corner workers and staff and is one of the most beloved members of the VFTC family. For this race he brought Annabelle, his 1968 Pontiac Superior Rescue.

When the sun’s out this old water truck works non-stop trying to keep the track from turning into an Oklahoma dust bowl. Almost an impossible task, so most racing is done as soon as the sun ducks behind one of the mountains surrounding the Pemberton track.

It is not uncommon to have racing end at 1am. Camping is encouraged.

Let’s face it, there is a lot of down time during a race weekend. Music and comedy are the best fillers and these two guys could take their act on the road. The longer the race, the more flowing the beer, the better it gets! Motorcycle dude legends.

GRUMPY DEAN

An original Scorpion, Dean is Niki’s worse half. So funny… so grumpy!

HELLUVA HAULER

My first encounter with the guy who owns this rig was seeing him roll in late on Saturday afternoon, race like a madman, then pack up his bike at 1am and start his trek back home… to Alberta! That’s easily ten hours away from Pemberton. Darin Deep is his name and this is how he rolls to every race. He is a hero.

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Dirt Devil by Martin Ontiveros

Art print ÂŁ25; Glow in the dark T-shirt ÂŁ19 While stocks last Order limited-edition T-shirts, sweatshirts, patches, badges, magazines, subscriptions, art prints, socks and more

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Balance

A poem by Travis Newbold Photo: Jon Wallace/ Brapp Snapps

Oil-stained concrete slab A life sentence binding contract Grease and blood Race gas huffing Grease monkey rat fink My old friends’ widows have little to say Their message clear and sincere As says my Pop: ‘Walk softly my son’ The winds at tree line sing me home I have been told by a toothless old race car driver That it is all contradiction The love of life; Fear of death We live The glory of the highway up the Peak There are no words that speak And all the trophies are crystal, yet cheap I’m just a man with a van and a plan. No home other than a camper A cot in my workshop Next to my woman, dog, bike I sleep A life not cheap A life I work to keep

Travis came second in class at the 2018 Pikes Peak International Hill Climb, on his own faithful Honda CRF450. He has also moved his motorcycle tuning business from the Denver suburbs to a much bigger premises in Fruita, CO, 20 miles from the Utah border.

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INSPIRATION ARCHIVE DEEP DIVE Delving into the the deepest recesses of artist Death Spray Custom’s inspiration folder and pulling out some gems

1994 Honda RVF750 AMPM Suzuka 8Hours AMPM is the Japanese equivalent of a Wild Bean cafe if you’re in the UK or a gas station 7Eleven if you’re in the US. Like, well, pretty much everything in the world, the Japanese take is the better one.

A convenience store owned by BP isn’t the sort of place where you would expect subtlety and finesse, but that’s what we have in this incredible livery. Let me break it down:

- AMPM means morning and night.

- Thus, the logotype and stripe is a representation of morning sunrise and sunset night. Obvs.

- Not only that but each ’sky’ is made up of analogous harmony (two adjacent colours on the colour wheel) which is why the colourway is so pleasing to the eye.

You know what else is pleasing to the eye? Eddie Lawson, who was runner-up at the ’93 Suzuka 8Hours with Satoshi Tsujimoto on this bike. The winner was the pure ’90s boy band pairing of Scott Russell and Aaron Slight.

Suzuka 8Hours 1993. Third place CUP NOODLE Honda. Note slamming chinos of pit crew

Kawasakis look so good when not in green.

1993 Suzuka 8Hours winner Scott Russell on the ITOH Kawasaki. Note signature Shoei ‘Chieftan’ lid. Boss.

I do believe Kawasaki’s over devotion to their corporate colour costs them sales.

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From: Chuck Joyner To: sideburnmag@gmail.com Date: 10 August 2018 Subject: Re: Great pic. Houston?

SB: Chuck, we’ve got this great photo of you, but we can’t decide exactly when it was. It’s clearly a TT and it looks like Houston Astrodome, is that about right?

CJ: Yes, it was the Houston Astrodome 1974, this was the trophy dash.

SB: What do you remember about the race?

CJ: I remember having a toe-to-toe race with Ted Boody. Also I remember [a while later] going to my old hometown, Prineville, OR. We called it Cow Town. I went into the Prineville Honda shop I used to race for when I was a kid and looked over the counter and saw a big poster of myself and Ted Boody in that race. I asked the parts guy where he got it and he said Modern Cycle Magazine, it was a fold out. I tried to talk him out of it, but when he found out it was me and that I’d ridden for the shop he wouldn’t part with it, so I autographed it for him.

SB: Was this the official Bel-Ray squad? Who were your team-mates?

CJ: The Bel-Ray team for the Northwest was Billy Oliver and myself. A few others that were on the team were Terry Poovey, Randy Cleek, Phil McDonald, Billy Schafer, Garth Brow and Guy McClure.

SB: And who’s that other main sponsor you’ve got on your leathers?

CJ: It was Trico Enterprise. The owner was Chet Guernsey, one of my most favourite sponsors and one great gentleman. [Then there’s] BelRay and Crowfoot Leathers. I started Crowfoot Leathers with Ma and Pa Joyner. She made leathers for a lot of NW riders, so if you see the Crowfoot emblem, Ma Joyner made them. We also 15 sponsored Diane Cox, who was my team-mate.

SB: What were those Triumph twins like to ride in the TTs? CJ: Triumphs15 were my choice because you had 40 so many options to make them handle better. I rode for Gary Davis, ‘The Fox’, national number

14. With his experience and mine we made some awesome bikes.

SB: Would you say you were a TT specialist?

CJ: Well, I won the national at Castle Rock, WA, on my birthday in 1973. Then went on to what they call the fair circuit and rode for Sonny Burres.

Won Cape Girardeau, MO; Colby, KS; WaKeeney, KS; Stockton, KS and Sturgis, SD. Also won Peoria four times in a row (three regionals and one national in 1978). I was inducted into the Washington State Motorcycle Hall of Fame in 2017. According to the AMA, I am the only rider to win a national and walk away and retire. NW riders Sonny Burres, Randy Scott, Mark Williams, Pat Marinacci and Randy Skiver, to name a few, were considered TT specialists, because we never had that many half-miles to ride in the Northwest, but when we showed up at any half-mile they knew we were a threat to win.

SB: You get two trophy girls here! Must have been a special race. Did you manage to get their names and numbers?

CJ: No! I figured Sonny Burres already had them.

SB: Are you still riding these days?

CJ: No. 18 years later, Peoria invited me, Dick Mann and Roger Reiman to help promote vintage racing. I hadn’t been on a bike in 18 years and won the Vintage National that day. Cool thing was, Bugsy was the trophy boy! Bugs and I talked Roger Reiman into coming out of retirement and sadly he lost his life at Daytona in a vintage race.

I felt horrible.

SB: What else does this photo make you think of?

CJ: I was disappointed, wishing I would have made the national.

Houston Astrodome 1974 Impressive sideburns 15%

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Massive 35 trophy 35%

Dimples 23 23% Wishing for another hand 17%

Big hair 10%

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Photo: Gary Van Voorhis

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Iratus Eiciam Festucam

It’s better to go out with a splat than a whimper