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HORSEPOWER ADDICTION

Get your kicks ... on Route 66 (or anywhere for that matter)

... it's Red, fast, and loud - isn't that all 3 of your basic food groups?? ...

NOTE:

Well folks, I haven't updated this fine piece 'o literature you're currently viewing in something along the lines of 4 years, but I'm here today (sometime in the mid-part of 2008 A.D.) doing just that: making the best even better - improving upon perfection (polishing a pile of $%&* would be a more accurate better description), so quit sending those nasty-grams begging and pleading for new material... just read on! Oh, and yes, as always, the intoxicating tale I've got to tell here might seem longer than a visit to hades (that's "hell" for you uninitiated), but I didn't twist your arm to be here ... just close that yammerin' pie-hole / fly catcher of yours and grab your favorite beverage & heavily salted snack treat(s), and settle in for a real good time. Here's another suggestion: print this slop out and take it with you on your next visit to the porcelain Goddess (a.k.a. Latrine) - it'll chew up a good 20 minutes, and when you're done doing your biz - well, you'll have instant T.P.
... my bad officer ... throttle stuck ... his response - tell it to the judge punk!

(Legal Disclaimer) Be forewarned : This website has NOT been sampled nor approved by the Surgeon General, Attorney General, General Hospital, General Tso (it'll make sense next time you're eating Chinese food), General Custer, General Lee (one of the coolest cars ever - a 1969 Dodge Charger ... not many left after all those 100+ foot jumps!) or any other General I can think of, soooo, it just MIGHT be dangerous to your health. But then, so is breathing, and you're not planning on giving up THAT anytime soon now are ya? Basically my intentions are pure and consist of a feeble attempt at humor here, while conveying a small portion of my lifes' story to anyone who gives enough of a rats bunghole to plod their way through this mess. I guess what I'm tryin' to tell you is, read on at your own risk ... and if any of it offends you, good, mission accomplished - and once again - repeat after me: "This is my page, go make your own". :) Oh, and children : DON'T TRY ANY OF THIS AT HOME ! (just another disclaimer..my lawyer told me to throw it in...)

... 2 words - YEEEEEEEEEE HAAAAAAAAAA ...
...the '96 Duck...900cc of spaghetti chomping torque...
So allow me to introduce myself. I'm J******* and you're not (a pathetic attempt at anonymity here on da 'net). Now that we've cleared that up, allow me the honor of insulting your intelligence for the next 15 or 20 minutes (probably longer...), with a carelessly thrown together hodgepodge of nasally offensive verbal feces, brief utterances, miscellaneous ramblings, bull excrement, sheer unadulterated ignorance, masterfully muffled mumbling, frequent run-on sentences, poor punctuation, complete disregard for the law, and above all ... a total disrespect for that which we Americans hold so dear to our hearts - Our vehicles. (OK, roll the National Anthem....then gimme your keys). Of course if fuel prices continue escalating the way they have been over the last year or so, no one other than the worlds Billionaires will be able to afford to actually drive anything other than a bicycle, but hey, that's a story for another time. By the way, I don't believe in 'spell checker' preferring instead to put my complete and total confidence in the fine education that Jerseys fecal public school system has provided. One thing I definitely learned was how to masterfully hide a very entertaining magazine within a textbook while in class, finely hone my throwing skills during the free-for-all foodfights which would generally break out, and visually ogle some of the finest prudes this God-forsaken barren wasteland has ever created (we just call it 'Dirty-Joisey' for short). Speaking of the prudes, how they ever got enough oxygen to merely sustain life with their noses that high in the air still remains a great mystery of our world. Fortunately the tables seemingly turned as I got older ... now I've gotta beat 'em off with a stick. Not really a bad problem to have ... :)
... what an unholy freakin' mess ...
So, with all that said, this isn't a thesis project for my doctorate in vehicular destruction, it's merely my website created out of sheer boredom and a desire to share a few yucks with a few billion of my closest anonymous friends...
... rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy ...
Now, right off name two of the things you don't think you'll ever have TOO MUCH of... well? Whadda ya think? How about too much MONEY for #1 (unless your last name happens to be Gates or Buffett in which case that's not much of an issue) or too much POWER for #2 (that's horsepower I'm talking about - you control freaks!) Well friends, from my perspective I caught the power "bug" very early on in life ... and years later I just HAD to scratch it! Here's how my particular story goes in virtually random order :

Once upon a time...there were 3 bears, nah, that ain't it... Ummmm, there once was a man from Nantucket ... grrrr, no that's not it either - OK, seriously now... A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...(Joisey actually... where men are men and sheep are never lonely), my own personal fascination with internal-combustion generated speed, power and acceleration (a.k.a Acceleratus Rapidus...in Wile E. Coyote speak - if you're scratching your head, it's likely because you were denied Saturday morning cartoons at a very young age) began **yawn** (sorry) at quite a young age ...

... and they say you "can't outrun the radio" - uhhhh, sure :) ...
... Ok - so Harleys DO have certain redeeming qualities after all :P ...

... and it's those experiences that happen during those early, very impressionable stages of life that mold us and shape us into who we are as adults (scary thought!). In my case, speed (or the concept of it) was like a drug for me as a child, doled out like candy from a PEZ dispenser... in very small dosages, but you always go back looking for some more. **smile** For me these instances were infrequent, thought still sufficient to stoke the 'ole fire for later in life... For example : My dad would satisfy my immature,(by his standards) power hungry needs once in a while by flogging the urine out of our mangy, rust festooned, high-mileage, oil burning family sedan. Partaking in the brief flog merely whet my appetite for a rippin' ride of my own some day. Witnessing him gingerly mashing the car's gas pedal much past the halfway point (accompanied by a toxic amount of carbon and soot buildup blasting out of the exhaust...kinda dieselish) and cracking that magical 55 mph barrier,(you'd have to know my father, he DOESN'T speed... ever) was a real treat and brought with it a certain sense of excitement and inner satisfaction...(how pathetic) HEY, what do you want? I was like 6 years old. Man, I couldn't WAIT to drive. I had myself totally convinced that I'd do zero-100 in 2 seconds flat if I was behind that wheel. I never cared how I'd STOP from this rapidly attained velocity...didn't matter... just gimme some SPEED !!

... yeah ... well ... who do you think is behind the wheel~?? *owww - that's gonna leave a mark* ...
Too bad the fastest I could ever get my Happenin' Huffy up to was about 25mph or so.(speedometer verified, but truthfully it was downhill with a hurricane force tailwind). That was all well and good until some neighborhood kid who shall only be known as "Fat Pat" came around on his motorcycle one day. Well, I bummed a ride on the back and the world as I knew it changed that very day. Yep, it's all his fault I guess. In retrospect, I don't know if I should be pissed and wail him in the spleen, or give the big blob a huge bear hug if I ever see him again. Depends on the mood at the time. Anywho, that planted the seed and after that I immediately realized that pedal-power would forever suck. Why do all that work when you can just twist a piece of black rubber and get instant acceleration until the tank runs dry! Fact is, by then I guess I'd worked my way up to a decent bicycle (*Thank God*). Let me tell you how hooked up it was : Custom equipped with that rare yellow "Banana" seat, outrageously knobby tires, bar pads, and that extra-impressive bell that went "Bringgg, Bringgg" and couldn't get the attention of a cricket... oh yeah, nearly forgot... lights that were powered by that thing that ground against the back tire, made a few milliwatts of electricity, and made it really hard to pedal... believe it was called a generator at the time, nowadays we'd just call it "battery operated" hehe! Man, was I cool.**barf** Nah, who am I kidding? In the end, pedaling still sucked. A new era is born.

... 1996 GSXR-750...literal Japanese translation : "It wasn't quite ready yet, but we let you buy it anyway" (what a POS) ...
... most of planet Earth suffers from this - not easily curable ...
Incidentally, my early obsessions weren't just limited by my desire to go FAST......I wanted to FLY too you know.....gimme some air baby, but, you see, what goes up must come down so the saying goes, and it's in the "coming down" process that you learn what a true bitch gravity can be. My newfound obsession with pruning tree branches cranially meant that in a few short summers I bent, mangled and mutilated more bicycle rims leaping to ever greater heights than all the neighborhood odd-jobs could ever hope to pay for, worse yet, the neighborhood kids would follow my lead.... and ohhhh, the carnage. Surprised no other parents ever showed up at my door pointing an accusatory finger with one hand and holding a doctors bill in the other. In a nutshell though, I'd succeeded in giving my still-growing arms, legs, chest and face about 15-20 permanent scars that I can show my Grandkids and wax-philosophically about what a great time was had by all. **grin** Stories about what its like having the cinder block under the ramp slip out from under you...before you get over the edge (ouch), or what 15 spokes all breaking at the same time really sounds like. (twaaannnggg) Not that I'd change a thing in retrospect (stronger rims perhaps...) because for all the pain and scarring, I love 'em all because each one has its own little memory/story/identity behind it. **sniff sniff** Truth is, by the end of a weekend our motley crew (not the dumbass band from the '80s) looked like we'd been chillin' on the front lines too long, with everyone nicely mangled in one way or another. I honestly think it became a sick badge of honor to have fresh blood or unidentified ooze streaming from 3 different orifices. Anyhow, I can hear it now - me when I'm 65 or so : "Yep, Grandpa was a real wacko ... but can we see that video again?" That's what the grandkids are going to say, but it's all good 'cuz there's a great lesson to be learned here ... I think ... somewhere... stay tuned and I'll let you know when I figure out what it is.
... just LOOK at this act of heroism...this time trying to save a baby squirrel crossing the road ...
As I aged and my working career (a real stretch of the term) progressed, naturally my interests began to change... as both increased finances and raging horomones came into play, I started getting into bigger and better things to destroy, such as cars, which became the preferred vehicle of destruction once I was old enough to drive and afford one. I'm going to take a moment here and reflect on the fact that most people have rather fond memories of their first car ... awwww how sweet - but I'm NOT one of those people (big surprise huh?) My first car (term used extra-loosely) was a rust & blue 1974 Plymouth Duster which cost me a grand total of $300 bucks (I way overpaid) of borrowed cash and was equipped with the legendary and supposedly indestructible slant-6 engine. To make a long story short, I wasn't TRYING to kill this one, I actually NEEDED the car, but it only lasted for 2 hours or so of stylish motoring before it threw a connecting rod through the pan, stranding me and 2 of my buds on local Rt. 55.... in the middle of January... in 30 degree weather. **sigh** How was I supposed to know the difference between prehistoric sludge masquerading as motor oil and the real thing? Those dead dinosaurs failed me big time. I wiped the dipstick... something was on it... must be fine. Oh well, live and learn. It's no wonder I'm so anal about oil changes now... bordering on religion. I also still feel guilty about selling that load with no brakes, bald tires, one functional speaker, and an electrical system held together by two rubberbands to some lady for use by her elderly mother - after death I'm prolly going straight to a really smoldering *hot* place that's well-known for fire and brimstone as a result of that one. Hey, I just wanted my $300 bucks back from it, so mission accomplished!

... ohhhhh what a feeling...TOYOTA !! (hmmmm, think the 60,000 mile treadwear warranty still applies??) ...

Anyhow, in the years following, I've jumped, blown-up, cut the roof off of, fries the tires in, defiled, smashed, bashed, crashed, and thoroughly violated more cars, trucks, and cycles than most professional stunt people have to their credit, only difference is, they get paid for their dastardly deeds, while with me, well... no free ride here, though once in a while someone would give me $2 bucks gas money... (I should've been charging admission to watch all this time though). Granted, we're not talking about any sweet "show" vehicles here, but money's money and I'm not made of it. Call me sadistic, call me insane.....just don't call me late for dinner. Personally I think everyone should have the opportunity at least once in their boring, pathetic, repetitious lives (can you relate??),to go wreck something....(intentionally that is, it's no fun when it's an accident) Did you ever watch the Dukes of Hazzard on TV and wonder what those 100 foot, 2-story, sky-high landings in the old General Lee feel like? Well, I'm here to tell you that it don't tickle, but you're too busy staining yer Levi's to give a flyin' coitus. (Did that sound Southern?... if so, mission accomplished) Cracked me up too, how old Cooter could have the General back in shape in 15 minutes after the whole subframe collapsed from the impact. If you've never seen the show then you're either too old and senility has kicked in or too young (dang whippersnappers) and haven't seen it in re-run syndication, check your local listings ...hehehe, TV...gotta love it. Stay tuned for the new Dukes movies coming out in '05 - I actually might have to venture into a theater for that one. ;-)

... Sasquatch IS real !! Here he tries to elude capture ...

Go take a look-see at the tach in your car and see where that puppy "redlines".... 6,000 rpm you say? Imagine how much better that motor sounds at 8 Grand with the rods begging for mercy and the valves not knowing where home is....(this works best on the old, carbureted, pre-computer era junkers due to all the newer vehicles having rev-limiters... have the factories finally caught on??) Now try pouring sand, leaves and whatever else you see laying on the ground into the oil while someone holds the heap at 8,000 or so in neutral just to see what'll happen (don't worry....most engines will take more butt-whipping than you can imagine, especially if it has over 100,000 break-in miles on the clock) Ever heard a tranny groan? (This is best with an audience) Well, here's how :

... HEY ! Who forgot to flush my water dish ?? ...
Get your dung-mobile going ohhhhh, about 40 or so in reverse, then rip it into "Drive" while keeping your foot flat to the floor (try to not to cringe or make strange faces when you pull this one off...) cool and impressive sounds you'd never believe will spring forth from your now wounded bomber (Gotta love it) Need more ideas? OK, ever found yourself owning a coupe, but wishing for a convertible? Noooo problem, break out that hand-held grinder and let 'er rip (don't forget your goggles, it's all fun and games 'til someone loses an eye...as granny used to say...) Now take your freshly built convertible and pile 3 of your closest friends in who don't have any children or many functional brain-cells (all wearing cycle helmets for added effect) and gather up as much speed as possible and launch that load of manure into the heavens, reveling in the sounds of the frame cracking upon landing, and I guarantee that it will... amazing how much strength a roof adds >hmmmm< (a rare treat, but make sure the video's running or no one will believe you, mine's documented)
... stare at me long enough and I'll fry your retinas ...
... this is why they started making fork tubes thicker ...

I Woke up one morning wondering whether or not a 20 minute sustained burn-out will grenade a nice radial tire ....and the answer is.... yes, about 90% of the time, but I can 100% guarantee a cloud of Hiroshimic proportions, several Police cars in the vicinity, and your damn 50,000 mile treadwear warranty no longer applies. Your results may vary. I've also spent the afternoon actually TRYING to flip my '79 Datsun 200SX over in the woods. (same car later got "Convertiblized".... save your pity) Things can get quite boring here in the great northeast, so at times one simply has to create their own entertainment. With a little luck the ensuing spectacle won't lead to any significant injury.

A prime example of how to have a great time on a random Saturday afternoon is attempting to roll your car. Why? 'Eh, just to see what it'd be like I guess. In a nutshell though, I honestly can't imagine how the hell so many people manage to roll a car accidentally ...'cuz I'm here to tell you, it ain't easy! My cousin and I (of course - everyone needs an accomplice during these heroic feats) would start from wayyyy back in the woods and get going at least 40-to-50MPH and rip the wheel as hard as possible trying to get it to roll (I was durability testing the roof for Nissan, I'm on their payroll ... ahhhh, NOT). Anyhow, the best we ever managed was to get about 3 feet of air under the tires (it's all on video ....copies are $19.95, "Piss 'Yer Self or your money back guarantee"), granted this WAS on hardpacked dirt, not asphalt, which may have affected the results, but I don't know of any large paved areas (like a mall parking lot) where the cops don't mind if you flip your car for kicks, so I gave up in disgust. There are soooo many more stories I could share, but I'll spare you, your friends, and your questionable sanity for reading this slop. For some reason, all of this comes second nature to me... I don't consider it any stranger or more dangerous than say, snowboarding, bungee jumping or any of these other so-called "extreme" sports which have emerged in the last 5 years, but I guess that makes me an innovator 'cuz I've been doing it for 20. Alrightyyy then, I just had to get those few hundred things off my chest, not to mention I should now have your undivided attention as you contemplate all that you've just read (it's 100% true... much of it documented), and since this site did begin life dedicated as a motorcycle-oriented destination, now I feel like I can mention my 1/8 mile wheelie and Standing-On-The-Footpegs, figure 8 burnout fetish without you even raising an eyebrow... (yeah, us Gen X'ers bore kinda easy). I've also been drag-racing street bikes since I turned 17 and was old enough to terrorize the streets and our nations elderly. One of my later terrorization tactics involved doing 80-90mph 5th gear wheelies up on Route 55 with my '91 CR-500... imagine being passed while on the freeway by some lunatic riding a wheelie right next to you - on the shoulder ... on a DIRT BIKE ! lol - I wish someone would do that for me! (definite 'thumbs-up' material in my book!) Suffice it to say, most people just aren't expecting it... ohhhh, what fond memories, hehehe... here's the bike and certified lunatic holding the bars :

... if ya never let the tire touch the ground, it'll never wear out~!! :P ...
Woo Hoo!! Sorry, my apologies, but no videotape of that one in progress. Hard to believe I've been flogging the dung out of everything imaginable with 2, 3 or 4 wheels now for nearly 25 years (motorized stuff since age 11.....do the math and you'll get a clue as to my age) and with the exception of one truly insane turbocharged Honda CBR900 (a 225 horsepower, low 9 second STREET bike.. I was mildly impressed !), I've NEVER gotten off of or out of ANYTHING and said "Jeez, that thing's just TOO FAST !" Sorry, but, uh-uh. Nope. Bring it on and I'll check 'er out.... give ya my honest opinion on the heap too. Maybe it's just me.... I think I'm immune to the sensations of speed and acceleration after all these years (sux to be me). Can't blame the factories though... they've gotta build stuff the average goon can ride, afford, not scare his/her self to death, and will last more than 1,500 miles being speed-shifted and flogged at 12,000rpm... it's the remaining 10% or so of us (like me) who just aren't satisfied with "Stock" performance. That's where the aftermarket comes in (Thank God) ....... hell yeah, just grab that phone and your Visa Gold and you're in business baby..... you name it, you got it.

... I bought the Cavalier Z-24 and found this in the trunk ...
OK, here's a 'lil factoid : truth is, ever since Fat Pat planted that seed on some fateful summer day, I've subsequently owned well over 100 bikes (yup, really!) to date, some fast and some slower than frozen doggy-doo on a stick... that's total of course, including 2, 3 and 4 wheelers... first in the dirt, starting with a Puch 50 dirtbike (rare) and then on to an '81 RM-80, '73 Kawi 175, '85 YZ-250, '91 CR-500, etc. etc., and then when I turned 17, the street (ohhhh no, turn in your license, hell hath come) ...here's a sample of the heaps I've had the pleasure of calling my own : My first street bike was a package deal of a '78 Kaw KZ-1000 and a '77 Honda CB-550... both total pieces of manure, but with a little blood, sweat, and $3 or 4 dollars, I got 'em both running and made a few $bucks$ on 'em (Cha-Ching, I lied, I made a KILLING actually...mostly on the KZ)
... my take on politics ...
From there things got a little crazy, buying up anything and everything I could basically get my hands on. This led to discoveries like an '85 Honda V-65 Sabre, then an '86 900 Ninja, an '87 FZR-1000 (incredible machine), an '89 EX-500, a '91 CBR 600F2, an '87 750R Ninja, a '94 ZX-11, an '84 LTD 1100, a '90 VFR-750 (sweet, sweet motor..gear drive V-4..), a '96 Ducati 900 SS-CR (those Italians build a GREAT bike), a '75 Yamaha RD-200, a '91 XR-250L, an '89 YSR-50 (weeeeeeee), a '96 GSXR-750 (my first and only new bike - what a raging turd) a '92 600 Katana (I've had 3 of these..), a 2000 YZF-R6, an '85 GPZ-750 Turbo, which is right below you...
... 20 years old ... 550 lbs ... handles like the Exxon Valdez ... but 142 dyno-ripping Mr. Eds' ... :)
... just checking the weather...a bit cloudy ...
...and happens to be my current ride/restoration project... pretty rare, unusual bike. I always wanted one since about age 15 or so (teenage lust item)... took me 3 months of searching and a 7 hour drive to get it, but worth it to me because its comfy, you almost never see one on the road or down at your favorite watering hole, and it puts 142 HP (and 90 ft. lbs of torque...) to the back wheel (dyno verified) and is capable of doing 3rd gear power wheelies with my screaming Sweetie on the back - she just doesn't know it yet~!! lololol (Ooops, sorry Hun!)
... my younger brother after accidental dousing with Rogaine ...
There have been at least another 50 or 60 very forgettable, low-dollar Hoopty rust buckets not even worth a casual mention bought solely for resale and a quick thrashing. I've never really cared what I was riding as long as I was riding, and hopefully make a couple $$$'s in the end. Of course I lucked out being raised with a greasy socket wrench in hand instead of a silver-spoon in mouth. Being able to do my own mechanical repairs 98% of the time (fortunately inherited from pops), if I couldn't, the whole concept would never have worked... paying someone else's extortionist rate of $60 bucks an hour (or more) to wrench on your heap will eat you alive in no time.
... *whew* - Thank God ... not a scratch on the luggage ...
... here it is: every turbo bike still left in existence ...

Lots of 3 and 4-wheel ATV's have been through my occasionally sadistic hands as well... quickie rundown... an '83 and an '85 ATC-110, an '83 ATC-185S, an '85 ATC-200S, an '85 ATC-350X (the most awe-inspiring 4-stroke 3-wheeler ever built), a '91 TRX-250X, a '94 TRX-300EX (another heavily built engine), a few Yamahas, like an '86 Yamaha Tri-Z 250 (worked to the gills), an '89 YFS-200 Blaster, '89 LT-250S Quadsport, '88 LT-230 Quadsport, an '87 LT-230E Quadrunner, and last but not least the nastiest 1996 Kawasaki KSF-250 Mohave ever built. $1,500 of engine later it had double the stock horsepower, 72 mph on top end, ran the 1/4 mile in the 15's and eats Banshees/400EX's/etc etc for lunch. Not too shabby for only 255cc!

... The Mean Green Machine... faster than a speeding Banshee... more powerful than a Pitbull on the crackpipe

I'm sure I've forgotten more than a few vehicles over the years, but you get the picture... I've had a blast, along with many others along the way that shared in the hijinks 'n escapades, so why stop now? Now that you mention it, I don't think I will, thanks. Actually I feel compelled here to take a brief moment and reflect. I'd like to go on the record and thank the snaggle-toothed hillbillies, ham-fisted cretins, mindless neanderthals, and utterly mechanically inept barbarians of the world - if it weren't for you people that totally neglect your rides, beat 'em to death, then sell them dirt cheap so you can repeat the entire cycle, none of this ever would've happened! So yeah, thanks. Basically, my hat's off to you clods - keep up the good work... you keep thrashing things and I'll keep giving you 10 or 20 cents on the dollar for what's left when you're done. It's a good system. If you actually read this whole piece-o-poop from top-to-bottom, then By God you are one sick, twisted individual (welcome to my world!), but I guess judging by that big dung-eating grin on your face it wasn't all THAT bad huh? Well, I'm done so peace out ...

... what Smurfs would ride if their legs could touch the ground ...
... me as a child here... definitely helps explain some things
... Momma says - "My son ... well, he's just nuts" ...

This site last edited/updated 7/14/08

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