Outcast Cycles Goes Racing!   By Nate Jourdan Ok well maybe we didn’t exactly GO racing, but we did go TO the race. I recently stumbled across an ad on Craigslist that mentioned "the cheapest way to get racing". Well that certainly caught my eye. I’ve always wanted to try a track day or two but the cost has been pretty tough to swallow. It turns out that right here in my perverbial backyard, there’s a road racing association by the name of GAMRA. Gulf Area Mini Road racing Association. GAMRA participants take commonly available dirt bikes, add in some road tires and wheels, and put them on various shifter cart and road tracks in the southeastern U.S. It seems this type of racing is spreading rapidly in Florida, Texas and has been popular for many years out west. Racers are broken up into classes based on displacement and skill level. On the track at Gulf Oaks Speedway in Saucier, Mississippi, were anything from a KTM 50cc two-stroke piloted by 8 year old Caleb Smith (more on him later) up to a Yamaha 450cc four-stroke supermoto. Most bikes hovered around the 150-250cc range. Modifications are limited by class and seem to be minimal in the spirit of keeping costs down. Proper gear is a must in racing and was well worn by racers. GAMRA does offer some options to keep costs down, but most racers present on this day wore full leathers. Street gear and/or moto cross gear is allowed, making yet another cost saving allowance. Prior to attending a race, I had my doubts about how good races could be with small displacement dirt bikes. I have never been more wrong in my life. Even with mixed classes on the track, the racing action was pretty intense. The fan favorite, Caleb Smith on his KTM 50, worked his way from last up to 4th in the first heat, battling it out with Honda 150/250 four-strokes, and a Honda 80cc two-stroke; all being piloted by adults significantly older than his 8 years. The real action came in the main event, where Caleb displayed skills way beyond his years. Caleb had a bad start off the grid and found himself dead last. Within a few short laps, of the 10 lap main event, he worked his way up to 3rd place behind the Honda 80cc two-stroke. I watched in amazement as this 8 year old kid stalked the 2nd place bike patiently waiting for the opportunity to pass. A lesser racer would have tried to force his way around the 2nd place rider, but not Caleb. His patience paid off big time when the 2nd place rider came up on lap traffic 2 corners before the start/finish line. It appeared almost choreographed. As the last place bike entered the final corner before the straight away to the start/finish line, the 2nd place bike was powering up behind him with Caleb in tow. Caleb made a move to the inside while the second place rider had to stutter up and go around the outside. Caleb got on the throttle quicker and found himself securely in 2nd place when the white flag dropped. I thought the power advantage of the 80cc two-stroke would find a way to get around Caleb. He wasn’t having it. A careful block in the fastest corner of the track, made the 80cc bike hit the brakes a bit hard unsettling the bike mid corner, and that was all she wrote. Caleb sailed smoothly to a second place finish, behind none other than his own father, Nigel Smith. Apparently when it comes to racing, the old adage "there’s no replacement for displacement" doesn’t apply. I can’t speak for the rest of the fans there but I sure got an itch to find a dirtbike to take to the track. Will Outcast Cycles ACTUALLY go racing next time? Stay tuned for details...
New Orleans Bike Week By Sandy Sumner Most rallies start out as a ride to a hangout or a ride to a party at somebody’s house that turns into a bigger and hopefully better party the next year. Somebody invites two friends, who invite two friends, who invite two friends, and so on and so on and so on. Oops, just told my age, if you remember the commercial that came from you are as old or older then me. New Orleans, aka "the Big Easy" is in the heart of Creole Country. The first annual "Bike Week New Orleans", sponsored by Easy Rider and the Broken Spoke was not begun in the way I described earlier. It was constructed and organized by those who have been part of some of the biggest rallies to date in the USA. The major promoter is www.bikeweek.com, they are out of Daytona, Florida (hmmm ya think there maybe a correlation?) Easyrider hosted the bike show inside the New Orleans Convention Center, and Broken Spoke Saloon set up shop across the street. Although, not in the heart of the French Quarter, it wasn’t far from it and within walking distance from Harrah’s Casino, the Riverwalk Mall, and the Aquarium of the Americas. So there seemed to be a lot to keep everyone entertained throughout the weekend. If any of you have ever been to New Orleans, being below sea level and right on the Gulf of Mexico it can get rather humid and/or, as the locals say "damn hot". This particular weekend it just happened to be both. Fortunately it was not raining so the outdoor activities were just as enjoyable as the indoor ones. Inside the convention center, EasyRider put together a very nice collection of really awesome bikes, including the Limpnickie group and Paul Yaffe Customs just to name a few, along with some local fabricators that have some pretty wicked imaginations. They had the Eagle bike that was recently featured on American Thunder on Speed TV. This bike was fabricated out of Bronze and was nothing short of spectacular to see. EasyRider had a bike and merchandise display. They even had live entertainment throughout the day which was pretty cool. Outside were more bikes, more entertainment, more people, and more peddlers. At the entrance of the rally area was VooDoo Harley Davidson of New Orleans with an awesome; I assume Harley. It was a motorcycle covered with a buffalo carcass; the head and hide of a buffalo. It was a great attention getter along with the Harley Hearse; if you are a diehard biker, or devoted HD owner that would be the way to go out, in Harley style. Just beyond the Buffalo Bike was the Broken Spoke Saloon set up. They did an great job of setting up camp. They had a very nice venue with lots of room, lots of places to sit and stand to get out the sun and heat, relax have a cold beverage of your choice, listen to some music and people-watch. Which reminds me…One of the main things I liked about this rally was the topless male bartender, yes ladies, topless, and built to show off. They did the female participants a huge justice by having him there. He was surrounded and if I were un-attached I probably would have been right up there too. Personally I think he did more business than the other four female bartenders who were wearing the usual (Daytona style bikinis) garb and dancing on the bar. There should definitely be more of those – male bartenders. Moving right along, the Budweiser burnout crew was there too. These guys were sponsored by Budweiser – obviously – and have a drag bike, but also do demonstrations on their pit crew skills and heat a drag slick on this bike to the point of bursting. It was loud, it was smelly, and it was awesome! (http://s375.photobucket.com/albums/oo200/AmishCrackDealer/Outcast%20Cycles%20Magazine/?action=view&current=neworleansbikeweek077.flv) The sponsors also funded the Wall of Death to perform several times each day at no charge to the spectators. That was the first time I had seen that show in person, it was amazing. It is something everyone should experience. These are very dangerous and powerful stunts in a very confined area; riding a wooden walled oversized barrel with a go-kart and vintage motorcycles. I have no idea how they learned to ride on the sides of the wall, much less how they learned to do so while slapping hands of spectators and flawlessly picking the waving one dollar bills from their fans. Here’s video: http://s375.photobucket.com/albums/oo200/AmishCrackDealer/Outcast%20Cycles%20Magazine/?action=view&current=neworleansbikeweek075.flv They had a scavenger hunt, a poker run, and several bike tours scheduled, and even escorted parades for the participants. The escorted parades, led by the Budweiser Clydesdales thru the New Orleans French Quarter and Business District, was just too cool. It just doesn’t get any better then that.
A Tribute To Don Berkey:   By Bill Ramby My friend Amish asked me to write an article about my late friend Don Berkey for this issue of the magazine. I was enthusiastic about the idea. Don was, and still is, my friend and I figured I could write a fair article about him. So I started the project with great enthusiasm. I fired up my computer and sat down to write. I have so much swirling in my head to write about Don, yet I couldn’t get it down into an article. And when I finally did get something written down, sadly it sounded like an impersonal obituary. Don deserves more than that. As a "larger than life" type person, he should have a personal, thoughtful article written about him. I mean, this is the guy who convinced Richard Jordan to go into business and almost single handedly got Hyosung to admit to a CDI issue with certain GV250’s. But for some reason I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. So I decided to take a different tack. I am going to write an article about a friend thats just away for a while. I’m going to tell you some stories about my friendship with Don and how a fellow I met on the Internet made a difference in my life. I first met Don through whats called a list group on the Internet. I had asked about learner permit rights in Pennsylvania and he was one of those that responded. Not one of those long replies Don is known for but a little short reply that managed to spark a dialog that lasted for years. Don likes to talk to people. I mean literally talk to people. Yes, he has one mighty fine pen, but when you get to know him, he likes to actually hear your voice. I rmember when he asked me for my phone number. I personally thought it was a little strange. I mean, sure I liked this guy I passed emails with, but did I really want to get personal and pass along my phone number? Well, I did and man am I glad. My wifes reaction the first time he called was kind of funny. It was the classic "You gave someone on the internet your phone number and now he’s calling? What if he’s some kind of axe murderer? Is he going to start stalking you?" type reaction. That simple phone call lasted about 30 minutes. From that point on we were friends in the literal sense, not just the internet sense. It was through Don that I met Mark at Andy’s Powersports who eventually sold me my Hyosung GV250. After I worked the deal over the phone for the bike, I rushed to let Don know I was coming out his way. That was the first time we met in person. I got to meet Linda as well. The friendship we started was cemented thereafter. It was kind of a funny thing too. Not funny ha-ha; funny that a person he’d never met in person was important enough that he would take time out of their schedule to go and meet. This was when Linda had first started her cancer treatments. In fact she had just had one earlier in the day and was tired. But they both made the effort to come and greet me. Talk about feeling humble! I didn’t even get to load my bike in the van that day. Mark and Don took charge. They rolled the bike into the van and tied her down for me. I expected that of Mark, he was the dealer after all. But for Don to pitch in with a person he had only shaken hands with that very day, well that tells you about the kind of person Don is. He is infamous in his giving attitude. A good example of that was a story I remember him telling about finding a woman and her children parked on the side of the road. He stopped his bike and asked them if they were ok. Apparently the father, who was working, had just been transferred to the area. The mother and children were just finally moving to the are to join up with the father and their map directions weren’t the best. Of course they ended up lost. Don took time out of his day to help those total strangers find their way to their new home. If you’ve read anything about my friend Don, you know this attitude was typical of him. He would go out of his way to help anyone, anytime. Even perfect strangers. I finally got my chance to give Don some help when, in early 2007, Don was looking for trike options for a GV250 for his son DJ. Bob Witte had just posted some of his video’s of the Trinity Trike GV250 but for some reason, Don couldn’t view them. Since I was going to be passing his way to go to the Indy show, I made a Video CD of the videos Bob made. On my way back from Indy, I met Don and Linda at the infamous Sheetz convenience store (it might have been the same one from "Da Punk"). I popped the CD into my laptop and showed Don and Linda the videos. You should have seen their eyes light up! This was the first true trike option they had found. They did later purchase one of the Trinity Trike kits and won a show or two with it. I’m not sure who was more proud of that trike, DJ or Don. I do know Don worked on the trike and polished it over the winter to get it looking perfect for DJ. If there is one love in his life other than Linda, it is DJ. A fathers love for his child is no small thing, and was exemplified by Dons relationship with his son. Don did whatever he could to share his love of riding with DJ. When the trike took first place in a contest DJ told Don that he felt he didn’t deserve the trophy. Don looked at him and told him "When a horse wins the Kentucky Derby there are a few people in the winners circle. One is the owner and one is the jockey. Your the owner and yeah you deserve the trophy. I’m just a wrench jockey." I know for a fact that Don was proud for DJ to hold that trophy. It’s just the way Don was. I could go on with these little stories about a guy in West Pennsylvania that had such an impact on the whole alternative bike community, but I think you will get to know him better through his stories and essays. After reading them, you will know him as well as you can today. You will see the humorous side and the soul searching side of a man who loved riding, loved people, and loved to share.
If you don’t ride you don’t know: The feeling of rightness   By: Don Berkey Normal people just get in the car or truck and use the machine as a means of getting from point A to point B. Not so with bikers. Bikers are a different breed of people who have learned to not only appreciate the simpler things in life, but life itself. There is an often repeated saying among bikers "If you don’t ride you just don’t know" What does this mean? For the benefit of those of you who indeed do not know I shall explain some things. If you don’t ride you don’t know the feeling of rightness that comes when you swing a leg over your iron horse. It is a comfortable familiar feeling that only a rider knows. The bike is the modern version of a cavalry man’s steed. It seems to have a life and personality formed in part by the rider’s choice of accessories. It is a thing of his creation and each bike is as individual as the rider chooses to make it. It is his. Once astride the bike the rider goes through a very well known ritual. Fuel, on. Key on. choke closed. A slight twist to the throttle and a stab to the start button. The engine jumps to life with a slight hesitation before bellowing with a sudden explosion of raw power which gradually subsides to a throaty rumbling. The rider just sits there taking it all in. He is listening with ears that have been tuned to the machine since it came home with him. Once he is satisfied that all is right with his pony he twists the throttle in short stabs. The bike responds like a high strung thoroughbred, anxious to be free and running. But if you don’t ride, you just don’t know. If you don’t ride you don’t know the feeling of first giving the bike its head and letting it out. The machine seems to wind up and prepare for the open road. It seems to be alive. As the rider winds his way through streets cluttered by cages and people he is careful not to do any harm to either the pedestrians or himself and his machine. Gradually the road begins to open and becomes more expansive. He and his machine finally find some breathing room and they get into ‘the wind’. Getting into ‘the wind’ means being free and feeling the rush of air as it surrenders to the horsepower and coordination of the riding team. The bike and the rider slowly go through a change and meld into one. No longer is it only man and machine. Both have joined by a miracle of ‘the wind’ and have become a cohesive entity. The bike has evolved into an extension of the rider himself. He feels the forces of the physical world as they act on the tires and the balance of the entity. Bike and rider have become more like a Satyr than a motorcycle and rider. The rider thinks and the entity responds. He no longer thinks of what he must do to accomplish a reaction on the open road. It just happens. But if you don’t ride you just don’t know. The mundane world evaporates into nothingness as the entity moves through time and space. Clocks and deadlines melt away. Time means nothing. Each deep lung full of fresh unconditioned air brings a feeling of euphoria to the tired lungs of the rider. They have yearned for this during the work day and finally have the chance to expand and savor each tiny atom of ‘the wind’. But if you don’t ride you don’t know what ‘the wind’ can do either. More’s the pity. ‘The Wind’ is something God created for mountain climbers, sky divers, dogs and bikers. Mountain climbers find the wind when they reach the lofty goals they have set before themselves. Once at the top of the mountain they stand in ‘the wind’ and peer over the Creation and marvel at the artistry of it. All the while taking great lung fulls of ‘the wind’ and expanding their blood vessels, getting intoxicated by the goodness of it. Sky divers are wind injected as they tumble through space. If they do not do something, they will die. They appreciate life. Dogs must rely on the kindness of man to favor their companionship. He takes them along on rides in caged vehicles and they stick their doggy faces into the wind. Dogs cannot twist a throttle. If they could, man would have no best friend. The rider is fortunate in this and can get into ‘the wind’ just about any time the temperature is above minus 6 degrees. I have seen some riders who have indeed become so attached to their best friend that they place carpeted areas behind their seats and take Dog along for the ride. I have never seen a cat on a bike. Cats just do not know. Once beyond the city limits and civilization the entity gets to experience ‘smell’. The fresh smell of the woods as evening begins to chase Sol Invictus from its perch. The world changes for the entity as freedom creeps in. Western Pennsylvania has changes in environment that only a rider can appreciate. Twisting along back roads in varying axis of attitude brings the experiences of joy. Sudden changes in temperature as bike and rider climb out of a valley and up a warm hillside, plunging again into the coolness as they reach the level of the water of a stream or lake. The different scents of the journey assail the nostrils as swamps and pastures are passed in the headlong flight into bliss. Flowers invade the night air as evening brings relaxation to the plants battle against the elements of the day. Mists arise from the soil as heat dissipates into the crispness of the night. If you live in a cage and are accustomed to the roar of over sized mudders or the blasting of a sound system that makes the neighbor’s windows rattle, well then you just do not know. True you will never know the sting of dust particles picked up by a semi. Your only worry will be the scratches in your paint when you hear the ping of destruction above the boomba boomba of your onboard ghetto blaster. You poor sod. You deny your body the experience of life on the outside. What delight is there in being with the one you love if you cannot join with the machine and become indeed one on the road. There is no necessity of words when you are together and taking the twisties as one unit... one soul. You think as one, You react as one, you feel as one and you BECOME one, more than ever before. Have you ever been riding and look over to see a bird flying beside you. Be it a duck a robin or a wren, the experience will be with you forever. The bird knows what ‘the wind’ is all about. When it sees you it realizes there is no harm in you. It bonds with you for a fleeting second and then is gone to do the bird things that birds do. But if you don’t ride you just don’t know. Poor sod. Sometimes we bikers feel compelled to establish a goal, a destination. We really don’t give a hoot where it is or for what purpose. Bikers never ask "Are we there yet?" We take to the open road on a mission. That mission is to ride and appreciate it to the max. We enjoy riding, we love riding, we live to ride. Yes, riding does keep us alive. It tempers anger and removes stress. It brings love and kindness and compassion for not only our fellow bikers but the human race in general. We treat animals well and risk our welfare to avoid hitting furry things, large or small. We are gregarious and love company. Bikers often ride in groups and if you are blessed to be a member of a run then you know. The bonding only takes a few minutes together but soon we know much more about each other through our riding habits than a life time of psych testing could reveal. The only time you will find a biker on a couch is after a very long run or in the winter. You do not see bikes parked outside of psychiatrists’ offices. But if you do not ride then you just don’t know. When a biker has a problem and is on the side of the road, most other bikers will stop to help. This used to happen in the old days with cage drivers but is a rarity now. Now it is cell phones and AAA. With bikers it is a brotherhood. Not to detract from the fairer riders. More women are riding now a days. It is a good thing. I am still pleasantly surprised when I pass another bike and see a woman waving back. Most bikers wave at each other. There is a one or a two fingered signal held at a low angle to say "Yo, Ride safe" to the opposing rider. It is just a greeting of the brother/sisterhood two wheeled way of doing life.