A blow by blow account of riding choppers across America by Taylor Rearick as seen in Issue 110 of DicE Magazine:

“Thursday night, my front porch is crammed shoulder to shoulder with my closest buds, everyone smokin cigs, drinkin beers- thursday is our local bike night in NorCal, we are pretty consistent with it and everyone puts in the effort to make it happen- finding a solid group of guys on the same page is difficult in your late 30s, so I consider myself very lucky.

Tonight everyone came up to my house for some quality time and to see Axel and me off for our trip to Nashville, TN the following day. I’m always a little nervous before a big trip, I get in my head, second guess my skill level and mechanic abilities, and generally feel anxious until I get in the groove a few hundred miles and a few tall cans in.

I checked in with Axel, it was about 9pm and he still hadn’t arrived at my house, we were all waiting for him ready to cheer him on and give him big hugs. I texted him and he said he had a few issues on his run from San Jose, he was working through it alone and was able to fix everything, we joked on the phone “Get it all out now! Better now than in Iowa!”. Haha

Axel pulls up and I open my garage, feed him tacos and a beer and we smoke a cig before getting to bed. We were excited to get on the road together- we had been planning this trip for about 6 months, had a long list of people we invited, slowly guys kept dropping out, it's hard to take off 3 weeks from work as an adult, I can think of 100 other things that would be more productive than riding my old shitbox chopper across the country, but the itch is real, there is something so addicting about the pain, struggle of riding a bike like this for days on end, its truly a meditative thing for me, cut out all the bullshit for a few weeks and leave one goal- get to that next gas station.

We wake up Friday morning, it's July in Northern California, hot and beautiful. I put coffee on and head down to the garage to roll out the bikes and do our final packing and inspection. I had planned this routing to Nashville with the intention of avoiding summer heat- it was not the most direct route to Tennessee, but we wanted to check out the northern states, ride through Montana, Sturgis, Iowa, etc. My thought was that it would be cooler weather up on I90, during the hottest months of the year.

We were stoked to get rollin, I kissed my kids goodbye, my wife snapped a polaroid pic of us, we kicked our bikes and hit the road. Nothing but riding for days ahead.

We hop on 80 and keep side by side, nice and tight. I love riding next to someone, it makes the experience even more fun, kinda like you are sitting right next to your buddy as everything is hitting, looking over at your friend riding his bike is pretty much the best source of inspiration I can get. It gets me so motivated and we feed off each other's positive energy. Donner summit is decent elevation (7,000’) but it's beautiful in every direction, lakes, trees, mountain peaks,rocks. Fuck america is gorgeous.

Bikes are running great and we got a great feel going together. After you cross the border into Nevada it gets dry, high desert shit, some of my favorite scenery. We pass Reno and explode out into nothingness in all directions, just a fast paced Interstate 80, windy and hot.

Axel and I had packed light for this trip, for some reason we both got it in our heads that we wanted to do the trip with no sissybars haha, i didnt bring any clothes except what was on my back, just had parts, tools, a sleepingbag, and tubes.

Crossing Nevada is always a challenge, just because it's not the most comfortable state to ride through. We were both feeling kinda uneasy until we grabbed some Gatorade bottles for extra gas. There are a lot of long stretches on this route up to Boise, ID, our destination for the first day. It's a great route and you get to ride through 4 states! In Winnemucca we get on 95 N and hit the desolate high desert. We ran out of gas so many times the first day, between long stretches, gnarly headwind, high elevation and fast speed, our mileage was down around 65-70 miles, and it was kinda the perfect recipe to run out of gas over and over again ha.

Crossing into Oregon is rad cause the scenery changes, it felt good to get out of Nevada. I was drinking tall cans throughout the day, just feeling great and having a blast riding. I had thrown in a new set of points before I left for the trip, and the quality on the new set was strangely bad- the fiber arm kept wearing down, then it actually broke off haha. I was adjusting points the whole first day. I ended up putting in an old set with the hard plastic arm and that fixed the problem.

Axel’s bike is running completely flawless the first day, thing did not skip a beat. Around sunset we are riding another long stretch in Oregon, 70 miles between gas up to Rome OR. a small mom and pop station in the middle of nowhere, no cell reception. We ran out of gas about a mile from the gas station, put in our reserve gas and rolled up. I was hoping to grab a beer but the store was closed. We were only a couple gas stops away from Boise at this point as the sun was setting. The scenery had been insane all day, riding through small towns like Jordan Valley, Fort McDermitt, and the Great Basin Desert, we were so stoked to be out in it.

It was dark as fuck out now rolling up to the last gas station- coming in to Boise from the west you have to get off the main highway and hop onto a smaller country road for about an hour. I made a left turn into the station and couldn't see a huge ditch that was at the bottom of an off-camber turn where the pumps were, I locked up my rear wheel skidding to try and avoid the ditch and miraculously kept it up. My heart was pounding but I laughed it off, it was super dark with low visibility and my headlight was terrible. Our bikes were still running good and we felt a huge burst of energy when we popped out onto Highway 84 at Nampa. Almost there!

We pull into the city, freakin stoked and starving, ready for food and a beer. It’s about midnight on a Friday and the town is pumping, so many people are out having a good time- Boise is a huge college town and we parked right downtown in the middle of the madness. Went to a pizza spot, covered in dirt and grease, feeling tired but satisfied. Grabbed a hotel room in town around 130am and got some rest.

Waking up in the dry air of Idaho was nice, the temp drops pretty cool even in the hot summer months. It's a nice place to wake up and ride. We wanted to consciously appreciate the western mountain air, because we knew there would be a point when we'd cross into the humidity of the midwest and be sweating our asses off.

Axel tops off his brake fluid while I grab us some McDonalds coffee and breakfast. The bikes started easy and we hit the road for day two- trying to make it to Bozeman, Montana.

Idaho is a very mountainous state, we basically had to make a huge U shape and ride around the entire state to get to Montana. We were blown away by how big these western states are, it felt like we rode through Idaho all day, not crossing the border until that night.

Day two was an exercise in running out of gas repeatedly, all day. We had spare gas so it didn't matter but it was funny looking over at each other whenever we heard the sputtering. Both our bikes ran pretty flawlessly all day, and we were able to really take in all the scenery of Idaho, rural farmland, lots of agriculture- if you go to a Pro Rodeo there are always a ton of bullriders from Idaho, all with the most epic names- Sterling, Tuff, Stetson. The state just feels rugged, a lot like the land- watching Axel ride his ironhorse through this atmosphere was like seeing a David Mann painting come to life. Man and machine, out in the wild, traveling from town to town, not worryin about shit except drinkin beer and havin a good time.

About 10 miles from the last gas stop before the Montana border we run out on the side of the highway, the sun is still raging high in the sky but it's getting late, the days are long in the northwest. We put in our reserve fuel and head up to the gas station which ends up being out of service. An old timer comes up to us and says “nearest gas is 15 miles back the other way”. We took a deep breath and turned around, hoping we wouldn't run out and need to walk the rest of the way. We filled up and headed up another mountain pass closing in on the Montana border. When we reached the summit we stopped the Continental Divide sign and took in the views. It was insane how quiet it was. It was kinda like being in a sensory deprivation tank. A lady drives up in her car on a road trip and exclaims to us "isn't this beautiful!”. We agreed and wished her well. It was a wild scene, no cell reception, no people anywhere. There were these huge black beetles that apparently lived on the highway, we were watching them crawling across the road everywhere, it was scary, almost like being on another planet.

Axel and I are seriously high on life at this point, we are hugging each other super stoked on the setting we happened upon. We snapped some pics together of the bikes in front of the sign- we knew we were about to experience some amazing sunset/golden hour riding from here on out tonight. Fucking choppers in the middle of nowhere Montana, riding through the sunset- this is what we fuckin live for.

We hopped back on the bikes and made it to the next gas station, it was a small Native American res town. Really beautiful, the gas station sold guns lol, we were cracking up about it for days. It's funny being from CA most people just have no experience with firearms, go everywhere else and it's just a part of normal life, like brushing your teeth ha. Doing these long rides allows me to understand people better, you give yourself a down to earth perspective that might not have been achieved otherwise. Axel and I kept returning to a simple theme the whole trip, just a feeling of similarity to strangers, an understanding that we all really are more similar than we think. We experienced so much respect and open arms from strangers on the road, and we tried to pass that on as well. Be grateful for where we're at, and who we come into contact with- that's the mentality we shared.

We were outside the gun gas station drinking tall cans and having a cig when these two guys came up to us and asked where we’re heading.

We replied “Think we can make it to Bozeman tonight?” They literally laughed out loud at us and said “it depends on how late you wanna ride!”

I put in ear plugs for the first time ever after this stop. I wanted to see what it felt like to be totally focused on the scenery. We dropped down the pass and into the most beautiful riding I could imagine. The sun was blowing up with orange and pink, reflecting off the small lakes we were passing. It was like I was on a spaceship, dead silence in my head, but traveling through the common intensities, noise, and vibrations of riding an old chopper. Axel and I kept looking back at each other and throwing our hands up at the beauty, we were so far out there experiencing something new together, the feelings of self sufficiency and underlying risk was exhilarating.

We stop for gas just as the sun is falling behind the mountains, it's getting a little colder, Axel takes off his boots to let his feet breath, I slam a tall can and a Starbucks Double Shot. We checked the map and it seemed like we’d be riding till around 2am if we wanted to get to Bozeman. Lets fuckin go!

There is a huge pass that we had to go through that night, and there is a ton of wildlife and large game in the area. I texted a few of my buddies from back home who are Ultra Marathon runners, they have a ton of experience in Montana running at elevation- they told me we were fuckin insane riding this pass at night on choppers ha.

Ripping through the darkness shoulder to shoulder is so damn fun, we put on our hoodies and prepared for some cooler temps. At the next gas stop in a nowhere town, pitch black, I looked down and noticed my license plate had cracked in half, I had it zip tied to my fender strut. I zip tied the other half to the frame rail haha I love the old Blue California plates, I'll run it broken until someone forces me to replace it. The gas station had a bar, and it was filled with oil rig workers blowing off some steam after a hard day. I felt lucky to be fucking off on my bike aimlessly.

Over the summit in the darkness my bike bogs a bit in the elevation, but we keep moving together on the windy road. It was pretty fuckin gnarly- lots of steep downgrades with big rigs and tight turns. We stay together and pass each truck, just praying a deer doesn't jump out in front of us.

To our surprise we roll into Bozeman and the town is fuckin LIT. Again, another trendy college town on a Saturday night. We pull onto the main drag and find parking- pizza again haha. All the late night spots were always pizza, but the food was fantastic and it was cool to check out the nightlife in Bozeman. I felt really old for the first time, there were college kids everywhere, having a good time dancing, singing, drinking. I remember how timid and lost I was at that age- these kids seemed to have it figured out. After day two of riding late I was fuckin exhausted. I'm really not much of a night person, it's hard for me to rally, but my goal was to be flexible and let the trip happen naturally, not really trying to control anything.

I had my final cig on the main drag outside, amongst the chaos of a college town night. We kicked our bikes and found a motel to crash nearby.

We woke up in Montana, it's cooler this morning. Today we'd be riding through two more states, hoping to make it all the way past Sturgis to Rapid City, SD. The scenery is beautiful, after a late night in the mountains of Western Montana I felt ready to get into the flatlands. We started the bikes outside the motel and hit the road.

Montana is an amazing state all the way through, every town and gas station was really clean and welcoming. We got a bit of a late start cause we slept in a big after our long night the previous evening. At the first gas stop we grab some coffees and some new bungees to secure my side bag from hitting my chain. Axel readjusts his clutch cause it started to slip. It's green everywhere, lush rolling hills and farms, big properties with massive houses, very “montana”. We stop for a couple tall cans and sit outside a gas station for an hour in the middle of the day just shooting the shit and having a bit of a heart to heart about choppers and what it means to us. The conversations in between all the riding are pretty priceless and I can feel my relationship with Axel becoming stronger, we are very alike.

At the Wyoming border we remember how terrible road conditions can be- it was also hot and windy. Everything east of Jackson Hole is pretty much flatlands, but there were some amazing rolling green hills we got to ride through, it was so desolate, more long stretches between gas, I was able to get some really good riding footage of Axel ripping. When you ride for 12-14 hours each day, it actually becomes a neat little side quest to try and gather footage and document your trip a bit. I had a really good time trying to balance our filming and learn to be better at shooting video off my bike.

We pull into a gas station in Sheridan and lay down in the parking lot, trying to stretch out our legs and relax for a bit. I crush another tall can and eat some beef jerky. This guy runs up to us and throws a $20 bill at us haha. We tell him promptly that we are “on vacation, we’re doing this by choice!” haha but he insisted that he wanted to fill our gas tanks for us. What a guy!

The people you get to meet on the road are so accepting and helpful, I think once you are traveling, all superficial differences between people become less important, and it all boils down to humanity. Everyone we talked to was super nice, even with us having California plates, it didn't make a difference. People would come up to us and tell us about their chopper projects, what they rode, trips they had taken- motorcyclists just connect with each other.

Around 9pm we stopped for gas, it had been a long day, we had heard good things about South Dakota and we were excited to cross the border. Wyoming seemed to drag, it's a big ass state. The riding was beautiful, but the roads were really bad and it was putting a strain on our bikes and our backs.

The sun is setting finally, we buckle down for some pitch black riding through eastern Wyoming. It was eerie, so silent outside, no cars or big rigs on I90, just us and our beat old bikes. We approach the border, see the sign for South Dakota and get all stoked! We’d be riding right through Sturgis! The big rally was in 3 weeks haha we were early, but we could still say we rode to Sturgis. I was actually shocked at how close Sturgis was- I always pictured it being further away from California, but it was our 3rd day and here we were- it's basically right past the border of Wyoming.

When we entered the state you could tell it was a bike friendly place, the roads were perfect, beautifully paved, with nice lighting on the highway. We stopped for gas in town and checked out all the souvenirs, took a pic of the big JP Cycles billboard (their headquarters is in Sturgis) and looked forward to a good night’s sleep.

We rode the remaining miles into Rapid City, SD, we called it a day around 1:30am. My ass was killing me, I had felt some kind of irritation the last two days, it felt like I had a wound almost. When I got to the hotel I pulled down my pants and I had a huge cut on my ass cheek from the rivet in my pants. It had worn through the back of my pant pocket and through my underwear, and had been cutting my skin for the last 48 hours. I was in a lot of pain and knew I needed to take care of it the following morning. I have never had that happen before, even on my last cross country trip, I think it was a combination of my riding position with T bars, and the long days/bad roads.

Waking up in Rapid City i had 1 thing on my mind haha, address my wound and get new fucking pants that didnt have blood on them. I let Axel sleep in and walked down to a shopping center with a CVS and a Boot Barn. I grabbed some bandages and Neosporin, then I grabbed a new pair of Carhartts, ones without the riveted pockets.

I felt much better and I was ready to crush some miles today. We'd be riding all the way through SD and trying to get to Sioux City, IA. South Dakota is just a nice fucking place to ride, we had a great day riding near the Black Hills, there was tons of good scenery and nice little swings in the highway, it was enjoyable. It felt like a single gas stop and it suddenly turned humid- we had entered the midwest! The heat turned up, we started sweating, but enjoyed the change in feeling. It reminded me of living in Tennessee and how hot the summers were. Every gas station had some rad native american art, we saw tractors at the pumps, I drank a Michelob Ultra cause they didn't have Coors Lite- Axel and I were having a blast together, the pace was really nice.

Again, we were looking at a late night ha, it's just hard to get your miles in every day without riding into the night. And we never really rushed each other, we always relaxed and hung out at gas stops to have a beer and a cig and just talk about life.

We were now surrounded by cornfields in all directions, the scenery had changed massively today. I was really excited to go to Sioux CIty, IA and ride around, just because that's where Tom Fugle and the El Forastero ran, and I have a lot of respect for how they influenced all of us. I could feel something substantial when we pulled into the city limits- it was about midnight, we pulled up to this bar and grill that I wanted to check out, seemed like a cool dive- but we pulled up on the deteriorated city block and the restaurant was closed.

Riding through the city at night was awesome, it's a working class city, reminds me a bit of Sacramento, lots of industrial buildings, smoke stacks, the roads were chewed up- we were curious how the ride the next day would be. We found a diner that was open and parked our bikes- it was around 130am again. We hadn't eaten all day, starving and tired, but feeling amazing inside. Another day in the books, ending in a city with insane chopper history, what could be better?

We woke up at our motel room, it was a pretty grimey spot haha. It felt like we were literally downtown, luckily we got a room in the back and could pull our bikes around. The morning air was nice, I walked to a gas station to get us coffees, I always enjoy walking around new cities. The houses in this part of town were dilapidated, all really cool little craftsman homes- my favorite style. The weather is hot and humid now, it was going to be a fun day in the heat. We chill for a bit outside by the bikes and snap some film pics in front of the old white wall of the laundromat next door.

Time to ride through Iowa, a big ass state! We take off down the road, and immediately this nice girl motions to us from her window that Axel has a flat tire. Super nice of her, she actually said she had a pump we could use but we told her to move on since it's kinda a process to get the rear wheel off and we didn't want to make her wait.

We found a nice open parking lot with some shade and jacked up Axel’s bike. It was hot af already and we were soaked in sweat. We had all the tools and stuff to do the job roadside, so we got to work.

The owner of the building came out to see what the deal was, he was super nice and actually a Harley guy too. He wanted to be helpful, offered us water. All love.

We got the new tube on and Axel pumped it up and it didn't hold air, it must have pinched somewhere we thought, oh well, we had another tube. Axel went down the street to a place that had a tire machine, we were starting to worry about time because it was getting late morning and we had not left Sioux City.

We throw Axel’s bike back together and get on it. After you leave the city it gets very rural- we were on some smaller highway, it was not a major interstate, but a road that went through small towns every so often with stop lights. The road was terrible, so many huge potholes and cracks, it was going to be a very rough day riding ha. About 2 hours out of Sioux City we are surrounded by nothing but bright green corn fields, the sun was freakin hot, the bikes were running really good and we had some good momentum after fixing our problem that morning- then Axel’s rear tire goes flat again, on the highway, with nothing around for miles.

He kept the bike up and handled it perfectly, we got off on the shoulder and formulated a plan. I snapped into “lets fuckin go mode” and got stoked. I love the challenge of trying to make it on choppers. I look around and there is absolutely nothing in view to jack up Axel’s bike haha, nothing but grass and corn everywhere. I decided to hop on my bike and go find something.

I rode for about 20 minutes and got to a Casey’s Gas Station- one of my fav stations in America haha, fire hot chicken sandwiches. I grabbed a bundle of firewood, two waters, two tall cans, a fresh pack of cigs, and duct tape.

I rode back with all this shit overflowing in my lap, jockey shiftin and making a u turn to get back to Axel. We propped up the bike and got to work. I slammed my first beer and was feeling great, this was a day that is permanently ingrained in my brain, it was so much fun making it happen in an uncomfortable circumstance, together with my friend.

I suggested we duct tape his rim, the old spokes can puncture tubes on bad roads if you hit a pothole on our shallow dropcenter rims. I duct tape the fuck outta mine cause im always nervous of a blowout. We do the same on Axel’s WM2 19 rear, same setup as mine, Jones style rims. Beautiful shit haha. I pulled out my prism emergency spark plug hole pump and we got about 10psi in there to properly seat the tube, then we used the spoons to finish putting the tire on. Looks good to go. The Prism tool was great but it was taking a long time and I was already hot and sweaty from kicking the 10psi. I threw Axel’s wheel on my lap and rode the 20 minutes back to the gas station to fill it up.

All set, 35psi, holding air, ready to fuckin rip. I make it back to Axel and he puts the wheel back on. We decide to take it slow till the next gas stop, hoping the potholes wouldn’t fuck us again.

The day goes by smoothly after the two flat tires. We have pretty nice sunset riding through Webster City and Steamboat Rock, the sky is beautiful and the sun still hasn’t fallen behind the horizon and it's 8:45pm. We were playing catchup, trying to make up for lost time we spent wrenching. I had our routing planned for us to make it to Davenport IA that night which is all the way at the eastern end of the state, then we’d head to Paducah, KY the following day with nothing but an easy 135 miles to get to Nashville from there. We had to change our plans a bit to adjust for the breakdowns, but it turned out to be awesome because I had been talking to my friend Wil about stopping at his house in Southern Illinois and that was going to work perfectly, based on our new trajectory.

Axel and I decide we need to ride as far as we can tonight and just see where we end up. We stop at a nice big gas station and regain composure, having a cig together- really enjoying recapping the struggles of the day. It's dark outside, we were tired but stoked on getting some good sleep and getting out of Iowa the next day, Missouri gets much more lush and we were psyched to enter some more wooded areas. The roads in Iowa had been so brutal all day, we still had another two gas stops to go that night before getting into Cedar Rapids.

Riding in the midwest, east, and southern US feels a little safer than the west. The western states are just so huge and desolate, everything is spaced out more and there are a lot fewer amenities/service stations. Everything is just tighter and smaller where we were riding now so I didnt have that underlaying feeling of “if something happens right now in the dark, we are fucked!” haha There were gas stations everywhere and always a little town to stop at if need be. We finally hit the freeway that went South towards Missouri at around 10pm, it was fast highway riding, not the best visibility, it felt like it was just me, Axel, and big rigs.

About 30 miles from Cedar Rapids, Axel motions to me to pull over, it's 12:01 in the morning. We stopped on the side of the highway and he said he smelled something burning haha. He turned around and his back had slid off the back of his fender and started rubbing on the tire. It had burnt/shredded a huge hole in his bag. All his shit was torn up and had holes in it, he lost his fuel reserve bottle. Luckily, we had a roll of duct tape from earlier in the day when we worked on the rim. He wraps his shit in duct tape and ties it back down on his bike.

One of the biggest things on a long trip is just making sure your bags and tools are secure, it's a huge safety issue, I've had friends go down from straps getting caught in their wheels. Axel and I were always pretty good about watching each other’s stuff and communicating any problems while riding. It was just funny because this happened at the very end of the night and we were so tired and ready to be somewhere. It was really my fault for not seeing it, when you are riding with someone you gotta have their back, and they have yours.

We pull up to a shitty motel in Cedar Rapids- we have a cig in the parking lot and talk about how fun but ridiculous the day was. When i watch the little video we took of that night we sound so defeated haha. We had made it out alive, together, tackling things as they came up and not letting anything get us down mentally- that's what it's all about. I knew I was riding with someone I could count on, and someone I meshed with. That's a victory in itself.

The vibe was good when we woke up, it was that feeling of forward progress, no matter the speed, we were on our way to Nashville. The bikes start easy and we are on our way.

Missouri fuckin rules. The roads felt amazing after Iowa, and the scenery change was exciting, riding over rivers and streams, through lush forests. We had a short ride today, ready to meet up with Wil for dinner and some good stories. Wil was actually one of the first guys I met when I was just getting into bikes back in my early 20s living in LA. I remember walking into TRICo and asking him where to start. I was so green, and so grateful to just get to talk to someone that had more experience, it felt like the epicenter of everything cool in motorcycles to me. Wil told me to get an evo sportster and just RIDE. And that's just what I did as a young man. I rode everywhere, to the grocery store, to work, every weekend camping with friends or exploring new roads, in the rain- I didn't care, I just wanted to get good at riding, put in miles, and earn it. This way of starting out, that was influenced by that early conversation with Wil, really had an impact on me- I actually tell most kids who ask me where to start to do the same thing. I think the best thing you can do in the beginning is get good at riding and have fun experiences on your bike. This helped me understand the “end result” of what being into bikes could be- being out on the road, traveling and making memories. So when I got my first shovel my second year, I knew all the wrenching was going to lead to those special times on the road- that's what I’m always aiming for to this day. The road is the reason, the prize, for all the hard work and maintenance that goes into this stuff.

Around mid morning, at a gas station, Axel realizes his front cylinder is ticking, it sounds like its not oiling correctly. We bust out the tools and I proceed to get drunk in a Missouri gas station parking lot. We troubleshoot everything we can that doesn't involve taking off the head, take each oil line off piece by piece and check flow, we took apart the oil pump, adjusted pushrods. Thinking back this could have been a precursor to what actually happened to Axel’s front cylinder valve spring retainer haha. It sounded like predetonation to me, like a weird hollow ticking sound. The weird thing was it would go in and out, sounding fine one second and then making the sound again the next- funny how much clarity we have now that we actually knew what happened.

Everything was oiling properly and pushrods were adjusted to spec. We thought everything seemed good enough to ride the remaining miles through St. Louis and get to Wil’s house for burgers and beers at Fast Eddies. He texts me and says “they close at 10! You gotta make it!”.

Just outside of St Louis, a storm is brewing, rain clouds everywhere, we knew we were gonna get wet! We were ready, right at rush hour too haha. Lets fuckin Go.

The rain starts pouring on the freeway, Axel and I are pretty stoked, looking over at each other laughing, kinda enjoying the cool off from the midwest heat and humidity. At the last gas stop about 50 miles from Wil’s house, we sit down and Axel pours out his boot haha. I have a convo with a young tweaker on a skateboard who bums a cig, he admires our bikes and was kinda blown away we had ridden from California.

Time to ride in the dark through St. Louis. We had checked our maps and we should arrive at Wil’s around 9:45, just enough time to hop in a car and get to Fast Eddies before they close.

Crossing the bridge over the Mississippi River that connects Missouri and Illinois at night was freakin rad. The lights over the bridge were reflecting off the water, the breeze was warm, we were still wet from the rain but got a sudden burst of energy at the beauty of this town we had pulled into. We turn onto a cobblestone street, real old American shit, old buildings all around, and stop in front of the home of Wil Thomas. He runs outside and motions to us to kill our bikes out front and just get into the car to make it to dinner before closing.

We had never really known Wil until that night, it always amazes me how when you meet someone you can intuitively know if you can become close with them, I felt that way with Wil. He has a warmth and maturity about him, he's sure of himself and what he believes in, he doesn't need validation from the outside. Wil has the best attention to detail of any person I have ever met- you can see it in everything he does, just walk through his home and you understand. There were layers upon layers of stories, personal history, friends, motorcycle history, fashion, all embedded in every aspect of his house and garage. It's not just objects or interior design, it's his life on display.

We stomp into Fast Eddies just before close, Wil knows the bartender and she sits us down and gets us a big bowl of shrimp. We order burgers and beers (Wil orders a beer with us even though he doesn't drink!) and start getting to know each other.

Wil is a wealth of knowledge, just like almost 15 years earlier when I met him in TriCo, I sat there just wanting to listen. We had a great time talking about the origins of modern chopper culture, his personal history, and some of his favorite things in his house. I was kinda geeking out on the clothing he has, he is also a vintage enthusiast and showed me some rad shit. Wil gifted Axel and I some old vintage tees. I got a 1st gen Powerplant P16 tee, really awesome to wear it now knowing Wil had it for so long.

We hung out in Wil’s garage that night and the following morning, checking out bikes, tightening up our hawgs to leave. Wil starts his recently finished stocker Panhead and it fires right up for us, sounds beautiful and looks great. Axel adjusts his pushrods and retimes his bike. We meet up with one of Wil’s buddies, Pat, who rides up on his old ‘37 flatty. It was so rad to rip along the Mississippi River with Wil and Pat, no helmets, just straight up freedom. It made me feel so connected to these people even though we had just met, that's what riding motorcycles does.

Pat and Wil wave us onto the freeway we’d take down to Nashville. It was looking like it was gonna be a really enjoyable day. Not a lot of miles to get to our destination, and coming off a great night of sleep we were amped.

The day went by smoothly, still with gas stop beers and cigs we rolled over the big hill on I65 at night, dropping down into the bustling city lights. Traffic is always bad now. We were heading straight to east Nashville to grab a burger and fries at Dino’s! My favorite spot that all of us used to ride to every week when I lived in Nashville. There are so many amazing people and bikes in this town now, I really wish I could have lived there for a few more years to get to ride with the rad dudes that have the scene thriving. When I moved there it was pretty much just J Ryan, Kyle Hunter, Brian Charles, Colby Landis, Wes Haymore, Sid, Glasseye Dan, Mike Finn, Elliott. Those were the people I met in town that rode, I was grateful they took me in with open arms, even being from California.

We pull up to Dinos and take a pic right in front. We had made it to Nashville, 6 days on the road. I immediately ordered a beer and texted my buddy Xtian, who offered us room and board during our stay- again, the love Axel and I were getting from everywhere was insane! Xtian pulls up on his Panhead, it's literally one of the toughest choppers I've ever seen. Totally his style, he has owned the bike for 15 years I think, I saw the spread when it came out in Choppers Magazine, but I had never seen it in person till now! High mids, magneto powered, drag bars, and dual disk front end, it's a beautiful bike.

The next morning we woke up and wanted to ride somewhere, i wanted to show Axel some of the outskirts of Nashville and hit up some spots. We walk over to a few of my favorite vintage stores and check them out, grab coffee at Barista Parlor, trying to give him the East Nashville experience ha.

Around noon we head back and do a little wrenching on our bikes, Axel checks his pushrods and they are loose. He adjusts them to spec and finally the ticking sound his front cylinder was making goes away! We looked up at each other with huge smiles, it was that simple! We didn't ponder why they came loose, just figured it was all the miles ha. It's raining and pretty muddy everywhere but it looks like the sun is out in the direction we were heading.

We start the bikes and head out to the Natchez Trace Highway- an incredible southern road that goes all the way to New Oreleans, LA. Picture a perfectly paved racetrack, surrounded by rolling hills, bridges, lookouts, with no cars, no cops, and about the top of your 3rd gear the whole way- that's the Trace. We really enjoyed the ride out to Leipers Fork, where we got lunch at Pucketts. They changed the name since I left, I can't remember what it's called now, but it's classic southern BBQ. We sat outside in the summer heat and enjoyed the views. Families sat next to us and asked us about our bikes, the kids are always interested in them.

We decided to ride back into town and have some time to chill before the Paradise Road Show pre-party that night. We gassed up at the Shell in Leipers Fork and I heard someone yell “TAYYYYYYYYY” out their window. It was my buddy Ian Busch who I had not seen in years since I moved back to California. I was stoked to see him and also blown away at the serendipity of the situation- randomly running into an old friend unplanned in a small town is hilarious. We give each other a hug and it's really nice to catch up. He's going to the pre party tonight and we’ll see him there. Rad.

Axel and I rip the miles back on the Trace, leaning into every turn, looking at the insane greenery that engulfs Tennessee. Axel’s front tire had totally distorted, the tread had worn in the weirdest way I had ever seen- the knobbies on his tire had almost “sharpened”, not wearing flat after the 3,000 miles, but instead creating a very unsettling ride. When we got back to Xtians, he had a nice Avon 21 waiting for him to put on- what a guy. That's the shit that pumps me up about choppers, if you need something there is always someone willing to help you out, cause they know they will be on the receiving end of the same situation one day.

Axel and I change his tire back at the house and chill for a bit, playing Xtians incredible collection of guitars, amps, and pedals. Xtians is also an amazing guitarist and musician, it's really cool to discover the different aspects of someone besides motorcycles. People are always more complex than you think.

At about 9pm we go outside to head to the preparty, it's raining haha but we are dead set on riding together through the city. We hop on Ellington Parkway and visibility is fuckin ZERO. Amazingly, we make it to the bar in one piece, wet but stoked. All my buddies are inside, guys who I love but only get to see a handful of times a year, Brandon, Jake, J Ryan, Dawn, Johnny is there. I meet Becky Goebel for the first time in person and she’s really sweet, we talk a bit about the ride there. I meet Adri, who puts on the show, and she is super nice as well, always cool to meet the ladies who are out there doing the same shit we are. A girl comes up to me and asks if she can give me a piggy back ride for a photo- i respectfully decline.

We get out of the madness of the bar and head out back to the smoking section where J Ryan and Dawn are chillin with Chris Lacy and Johnny. I give them a big hug and we shoot the shit for a bit. The previous year I had stopped to see JRyan on my trip and he always welcomes me with open arms. He said they were gonna leave for another bar in East Nashville so we rolled with them.

Johnny, Xtian, Axel, and I start our bikes in the pouring rain and get rippin to the next bar. We are wet as hell, but every stoplight we are just fuckin pumped and buzzin to be ripping together through the city in the rain, felt like the epitome of biker shit haha.

The bar is fuckin packed, I have not seen this many young women in one place in many years. I don't remember Nashville being this much of a zoo, but we’re just happy to be there and the vibe is great. I walk in and give Nick Resty a hug and we talk about life, how the celebrities who get into choppers are actually fuckin rad, riding lomg distance, and the general badassness which is THE HAINTS. I seriously get stoked everytime I see one of the Haints guys, they are the best in the business in my opinion.

At 3am, I realize I need to head home and go to bed, I had a 6am flight out to Los Angeles that I had to catch that morning for a last minute work thing. Axel leaves with me, kicking our bikes in the rain, soaked, drunk, and happy as fuck. Goodnight….

24 hours later I fly back from Los Angeles on a red eye flight and arrive back in Nashville at 8am, I catch an Uber back to Xtians house, smoke a cig and roll into his guest bed. Axel is asleep on the couch. I prayed that he would sleep late for a few hours so I could try and catch up haha, I was in that weird space of half asleep, half awake the whole flight, I have a hard time sleeping on planes.

A few hours later we wake up and I actually feel really well rested and ready to fuckin ride. We pack up and head to Xtian’s work to say goodbye. It was kinda emotional actually, we were sad to leave, we had so much fun with him staying at his house and partying it felt like home. But like cowboys, off we go, to another town down the road.

We fuel up in west Nashville, at a station I used to go to all the time on 51st. My best buddy Kyle lived on that street. The plan is to make it out of TN and into Arkansas tonight, we’d be riding I40 the way home. I really love 40, the route takes you through OK, TX, then drops down into the southwest, NM and AZ, then you go north once you get to SoCal. My bike is running like complete shit now haha. It felt electrical, but after dealing with so much “points drama” it was hard to tell what the issue was. Axel is an angel and puts up with me having to stop a few times on the freeway that day. I finally figured out by the end of the night that my regulator/rectifier wire that runs up to my battery got burned by the oil tank. I saw the bare copper after inspecting it. I had a replacement in my bag, and installed it at a gas station in the dark in Arkansas. It's crazy the shit that happens once you ride long distance. I had ridden consistently for the last 8 months with no issues, my bike felt so reliable, but when you get on a trip riding all day for weeks, shit just comes up that never materializes on shorter runs. It's probably my mediocre mechanic skills, I'm not really that good at this shit haha I can barely keep my bikes running, and know “just enough” to get by.

Arkansas has pretty nice scenery but there is a heat wave across I 40 for the whole week. High 90s in the South feels like 110 degrees in Ca, the humidity is just intense. Almost through Arkansas on our way into Oklahoma we pull off to a gas station, Axel hears a thunderous sound come from his engine. I made it to the station (which I had actually stopped at before on another ride lol what are the odds) and Axel called me- “Dude I heard catastrophic engine failure”. FUCK.

He pushes his bike to the station and we start to investigate, what we find doesn't look good, we decide to call a tow truck and get us to the next major city with parts/resources. I fall asleep in the back of the tow truck, and wake up in Oklahoma City at 3 am. We unload the bikes and get some sleep at a grimy motel.

The next morning I head outside for coffee and to inspect what happened. I pull the plugs and Axel's front cylinder plug had been smashed by the piston, the valve was pushed down into the combustion chamber and stuck. Looks like game over. I call Mike Dyas for a second opinion and he basically says we are fucked, on the road with a timeline to get back home to our jobs and families means no waiting for a machinist out in Oklahoma ha.

To be honest, I wasn't mad at getting to ride back in the Uhaul with Axel, at the root of this whole thing, it's all about camaraderie, and hanging out with a friend. We had so many good conversations on that drive, we really got to know each other, we listened to music deeply together, it was the perfect way to “end” the trip, because it kinda solidified our bond- like “okay, we can be friends even if you take the choppers out of the equation”.

I've said this before, but motorcycles are not what creates the relationship for me. It's really just an initiator, and the underlying things that make a person special are what I connect with. It's about how you handle the toughest situations, how do we function when we’re low, down, and at our wits end. Anyone can be a good friend when times are good, but knowing who will be there when you're broken down on the side of the highway at 1am, and look up at you laughing and smiling, those are your boys, those are the people you can count on. It’s not even about someone's background or experience, some of my closest road dogs have only been into bikes for a few years, it's all about the attitude. That's my favorite part of doing these long rides- it forces you to be yourself, you see someone exactly for who they are, all the little moments, exhausted, stoked, drunk, frustrated, first thing in the morning haha. If you want to supercharge a friendship- hop on some old Harley’s and ride into the sunset.”

-Tay

@stormridersus