Meeting The Meat Grinder

Seventy-three degrees on a climate-twisted February night in Ohio. On the way out of the burger place I noticed that the light down the street was green so I rolled the throttle lightly in second, relaxing the twist just long enough to kick into third. And again, twist relax kick. And again. It was the work of just a few seconds, never spinning the Kawasaki past five point nothing on your RPM dial, ladies and gentlemen. I rolled through the light. To my left, there was a policeman. He looked startled. Reflexively, I checked the speedometer, which read just a needle’s width beneath the 100 mark. More than double the speed limit, in a suburb where they don’t tolerate that sort of behavior. In my left mirror, I saw him jump-start through the intersection and line up behind me a thousand feet back.

So there was nothing left to do but twist it the rest of the way. Cue the old hyperspace effect. I am forty-six years old, suburban and harmless, battered and broken. But I am also this: gone.

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We Interrupt This Blog For A Brief Non-Commerical Interrupting Interruption

I’ve signed up for the Distinguished Gentlemen’s Ride next month. It’s a great charity masquerading as a bunch of dickheads wearing suits on dorky motorcycles. I’m planning on wearing a Hickey Freeman pinstripe and riding my Honda CB1100. If you want to throw five bucks towards the cause, you can do it here. Better yet, if you want to come ride, I’ll buy you a drink afterwards.

Those of you who hate my guts can be reassured by the fact that it’s almost certain to rain this time of the year and that I’ll basically be spending two hours wrapped in three layers of soaking-wet wool. There’s also a reasonable chance that one of these hipsters who can barely ride a motorcycle by themselves, let alone in a group, will run into me and cut off my leg. A girl can dream, you know!

Ridin’ For Harambe, Part 23

Alright, let’s get this party started again. And what better way to light the flame once more than to feature one of my all-time favorite bikes: the Honda CBR1100XX Super Blackbird. Frequent readers of this site know that I have long harbored a weakness for the Yamato class of sportbikes; as a teenager I wanted an FJ1200 so badly that I put FJ1200 stickers on my BMX bike, and in my twenties I lusted for a Kawasaki ZX-11. I am now the owner of the final-boss cruise missile, the Kawasaki ZX-14R, but as recently as last October I was trying to purchase a decent example of the Super Blackbird.

Jeff has a “Dos Equis” Honda that’s been in his fleet for seven years. But as you’ll see below, it’s no longer his favorite way in which to pay tribute to The Gorilla Who Knew Too Much.

(If you have a bike that you’d like to see featured here, send it to

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The Flyin’ In Winter

This is the Kawasaki ZX-10RR Ninja. It’s basically a way to homologate a more aggressive engine top-end for literbike racing; as a roadgoing proposition it’s unlikely to be significantly different from the new-for-2016 ZX-10R. The reason I’m featuring it today: Kawasaki’s brilliant idea to deliver the bike in “Winter Testing Livery”. It’s a production paintjob that pays tribute to the plain-black bikes used before a team announces its sponsors for the season. There’s a snowflake on the cowl. All of this is brilliant because not even an insane person would ride a 197-horsepower ZX-10RR in anything resembling snow.

I wouldn’t trade my ZX-14R for it — not sure I would trade my ZX-14R for anything, actually — but if I had enough money to put multiple big Ninjas in my garage you can bet that I’d give the snowflake-mobile a chance. Enjoy your weekend, everybody; the Weekly Roundup will appear tonight.

Return Of The Mack, Non-Return Of The Mack, And The DuKawi

2017 Honda CBR1100 EX

I’ve long since come to terms with the idea that my participation in, or excitement about, something is basically the opposite of celebrity endorsement. BMX was doing great until I got my Beginner license. The same is true for my NASA region, which saw entries in the PTE class go from 15-20 to 4-6 after I started. To be fair, the 2008 market collapse might have been peripherally involved. But anyway. After a picture of me wearing my horsehide Captain America jacket went viral everywhere from Reddit’s Feminism channel to the Daily Mail, Hillside put the ready-to-wear version of said jacket on clearance.

Which is why I am just a little bit excited to announce that I have saved a motorcycle from extinction. When I bought my discontinued 2014 Honda CB1100 Standard, and two of my readers followed suit, I had no idea that the three of us would triple-handedly convince Honda to bring the motorcycle back to the United States. But as you’ll see, they’re still keeping the good stuff at home. Meanwhile, Team Green has decided to make a very strong argument for me to sell the CB…

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The Mighty Un-Cucked

The authentic insanity starts at 2:10 or so. I defy any “M”-endorsed rider to watch this without flinching or cringing multiple times. For me, the worst part was when I realized he was riding without gloves. I mean — sudden death on a bike? Sure, who gives a shit, sign me up tomorrow morning. But to bail at 100-plus onto your unprotected hands? Maybe I’ll drive to work after all.

I don’t endorse this fellow, his actions, or his approach to motorcycling. But I do endorse his attitude. It’s the same attitude I admired in the best BMX racers and street riders when I was younger. It’s the willingness to throw away years of your life in exchange for a few moments where you feel truly alive. It’s the belief that you can get through an impossible situation on the strength of your talent, your belief, your courage, and possibly your stupidity.

Modern Western society spends billions of dollars’ worth of money, time, and effort trying to destroy this kind of spirit in our young men, trying to turn them into feckless little feminist allies and/or obedient husbands. Then we wonder why the same women to whom we defer are willing to turn their backs on us even as they import millions of men from “primitive” cultures.

This young rider has the same kind of spirit that animated Audie Murphy or Alvin York or Manfred von Richthofen; the desire to be braver, bolder, more daring than his peers. Thankfully, there’s not much of a war for him to fight — not at the moment, anyway. The near future? That might be another matter altogether.

Ridin’ For Harambe, Special October Surprise Edition


Our recurring feature Ridin’ For Harambe is on hiatus until November 1st, but I thought we’d interrupt our regular programming to bring you these two dudes and their new bikes.

On the left we have John. He’s a pretty cool dude. His primary interests: football, math, using just the back brake to slide in turns so his father gets all agitated and starts clutching the left side of his ribcage.

On the right we have Jack. Likes: long walks on the beach, stressful races, Ketel One vodka, the Ruth’s Chris restaurant chain. Dislikes: nosy husbands, Levaquin, minimum-sentencing laws.

Together, they own seven motorcycles but these are their newest ones. John’s on the 1982 Y-Zinger, derestricted, tuned-up, and obsessively prepped by some motocross dad two years ago. Jack’s on a brand-new 2015 Kawasaki ZX-14R Ninja. Some of you will know that the 2016 ZX-14R has a three-way catalyst that drops power down to just 197hp; the 2015 still makes the original 208hp. This was the last 2015 ZX-14R in Ohio.

Come back to this site to hear about their adventures together and to learn the answer to the question: Which one of them can eat ten Wendy’s chicken nuggets in under ten minutes? (It’s a trick question! Both of them can do that!)

The New CB1100 Is Here

The CB1100 has been revised for 2017, splitting into a wire-wheeled heritage model and a gold-nitride-shock “RS” variant. This video features the heritage bike. It’s pretty neat. Makes me wish my father rode a motorcycle. But my son and I both do. Maybe that’s enough.

Ridin’ For Harambe, Part 21


“I lost a lot of my pictures due to a very pissed off woman some years back,” David notes, earning him Riverside Green Veteran Status, “but here’s at least one picture of the old man (me) and his Sabre on a solo ride from Oregon to Wenatchee, WA. Looking north towards the Cascade mountains, just past Ellensburg, WA in May of 2009.”

I love to see these old Sabres out on the road; David identifies this one as an 1100 (V65).

Bonus now-for-something-completely-different shot after the jump.

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Ridin’ For Harambe, Apology Edition


Scott was one of the first readers to send in his photo, but I lost it in my 19GB of GMail. He didn’t say anything other than to identify it as a 2013 Triumph Street Triple, so what I’m going to do is to make something up.

“Dear Jack,” he did not write, “it’s your boy, Scott. This is the Street Triple on which I joined a black biker gang led by Tyrese Gibson. We controlled the trade in ‘My Little Pony’ figurines from Chino to Goleta, or maybe it was the other way around. When Tyrese stepped down due to filming obligations for Fast and Furious 9, I was chained wrist-to-wrist with a 300-pound Kimbo Slice lookalike. I killed him with a knife-edge palm shot to the carotid. I’m currently on the run from the ATF, the FBI, the DEA, and most of the SJW. Love everything you write, especially the thinly-disguised fiction about your ex-girlfriends. Yours in Christ, Scott.”

If the real Scott has more to tell us, I expect he will in the comments…