riders were approaching, the wind began to howl.


My boy’s got a brand new toy.

(Well, newish.)

Here, in the land where fantastical dreams become our ridiculous realities, B is outside in the thick midday heat, tearing apart his new bike. Fenders are flying, girlfriends are stressing over tetanus, sweat is pouring, and B is loving it.

Second only to building a jetpack, gutting a motorcycle has been a major lifelong aspiration for him. And everyone here thinks he’s completely nuts for it. If you have a new bike, why do you want an old crap one?

We’re currently working on getting the correct translation for, cause it’s badass, duh.

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5 Responses to “riders were approaching, the wind began to howl.”

  1. Dennis Says:

    John can provide all the technical assistance you need.

  2. Lu Ann Meyer Says:

    John says, “I hope B has already removed some parts!” And its name?

  3. Linda Says:

    “I don’t want a pickle
    Just want to ride on my motorsickle..”

  4. Ekua Says:

    Let the motorcycle diaries begin ;) Have fun with it!

  5. lex Says:


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