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Ive noticed somethings group together interestingly.Such as Cafe racer styled bikes,Bobbers,ratrods, and rockabilly.Somehow there is alot of similarities in an artsy sort of way .

Maybe they are all stripped down with plenty of "ATTITUDE" in your face, sort of style about them...

Im so far behind ,that I think Im in first.
 

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I agree. I like all those catagories, but I also include gassers and sprint cars in there with them.

I am not attracted by the bling-ka'ching type of bikes or rods, or women for that matter. I like my rides (ah-hem) real-world down-home back-to-basics stripped-down and nuthin'-fancy. Builds should evoke their beauty from basic design to a purpose, not from chrome plating or fancy paint jobs, plus all builds must be able to function as daily rides; otherwise they're nothing but the despised in my heart, trailer queens, and as far as I'm concerned there may as well be no innards in the engines because they're nothing but the shell from hell.

And I like some dings and scratches that happen from use, patina is good; it's like scars that tell a story or muscles built from hard use instead of from some spa/gym (which is another thing I hate; gyms should stink, be bland, and full of free weights, but there I go again).

Anyways,
Dgy

I hope you guys don't mind me attaching articles that I've written in the past (but then, you don't have to read them,either), but here's one that describes my feelings:

BLEMISHES

I was just downstairs in my shop having a beer and cigar (cigars having been banished by Bazzy to the dark underworld), and as I sat there my eyes ran over my 1956 BSA Goldstar.

There it sits on my bench, definitely a “Special”, a mish-mash of a dozen swap meets, entire days lost to pursuits such as driving to a distant friends house to go through their junk pile to see if they had a part I needed, then two years to take it all and fit it together so it looks like the picture I’ve had in my mind, as this bike started years before the pieces were bought and it was actually built.

It’s black, the big Goldie 500cc alloy cylinder massively fills the engine cavity. A fiberglass A65 tank sits diminutively above the engine and behind it is a BSA period race saddle. Alloy fenders sit over the tops of 19 inch alloy shouldered rims, these shod with Avon race tires that complete the sparse period café look. Engine innards are full race Goldie guts sans the high compression piston (a 9:1 piston used for street gas), a Triumph clutch, electronic ignition, Mikuni carb, and it runs perfectly. It backs up its looks nicely with a sound that TOTALLY fills the air. There is no room for thought or anything else as the big single walks up through the rev range and then comes back down with a snarl, almost animal in nature. Behavior on the road is typical Goldstar with a real sweetspot beginning at 4k and topping out at 6800rpm; this old girl has surprised a few modern bike riders on back roads.

But the aspect that makes the bike most alive to me, are its blemishes. Like, the toolbox has the most perfect black paint you will ever see, but you can still make out the slightest dent in it if you look, cases are shiny but have the look of use, safety wire is a nice blemish, clamp nut on mega faces out for function, some nicks in paint already, odds and ends, functional blemishes that speak of purpose. No trailer queens for me, but rather machines that are beautiful in their given purpose, have grown muscles in their use, and now appear as the real deal, scars and all.

I never liked the perfect, but rather embrace imperfection as being human and now find perfection as an unnatural state that can only be touched on occasion, and never possessed. It's the little things that make life fun, the little blemishes that accentuate beauty, especially when they're attached to something that is so good to begin with.

I really like all my bikes, they work well, they look good, but I enjoy the eccentricities the most. That's what gives them life, personality, and brings them close to me. I gave life to many of them after their parts had been scattered throughout a dozen barns and cellars decades ago, I wheeled and dealed, sought and bought, then I formed them into a purpose and a way; they even look like me, and like children, I love them both for their strengths and weaknesses, the things that reveal the nature of the life within.

But then, that's the way of happy life, don't live for the unobtainable, but love and appreciate life for all that life is, both good and bad. There is gain to be had in all of it.


Dgy
 
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