Bryan Smith has a good horse . . . he calls' it Old Reliable since that Kawasaki has taken him to victory more than once. But, he's also probably one of the best Mile racers to come along in awhile. He's paid his dues. Smith was just 15 or 16 years old when Parker raced his final season before retirement. After 24 and a half miles (in 90 degree heat) into the last turn, we all thought Johnson had outfoxed 'em with a bold, outside move . . . then the crowd went wild when Smith went from 3 to 1. That "Green" really shows up - you can see it plain as day streakin' down the backshoot !
A Non-Stop Ride Weekend . . .
It felt good to ride the 1964 ironhead sportster again. Get on the road in that 90+ heat and hit the interstates and backroads - on Labor Day weekend, when it's busy-as-shit . . . and hot. To ride 750 miles with that Ironhead Harley - all 55 cubic inches - hammer down. I left at 6:30am, but it soon got hot. A stop at Davenport to see that '39 Knuckle Motor the Noot's built (which runs great) and see all my old-bike friends.
I hooked up with my 70 year old dad, who's a pretty hard road rider - and we set off for Springfield - and the Saturday Nite Short Track. On the way, a couple Chicago Outlaws blew past. It looked like a scene from The Bikeriders. Their Labor Day Weekend Club Run to Springfield. This town is just so cool. The night-life. It's kinda a run-down old town, but the people are so gung-ho for that "MILE" - and they all know the reason you're in town. The morning cafes are all full. People waiting. Race shirts everyone. Big, Welcome Racers signs everywhere. The Cove. Rockin' Robins. The Truck Stop. The Stadium. All the places I like to go. We took a different, new back way home, through mid-Illinois rolling hills, then flat country, then hills again. Over, then up thru Macomb - and on to Hamilton, Illinois - across the mighty Miss into Keokuk. The sun goin' down - we just kept going - into the dark. Cooling off the 90s . . . now into the 70s. The old ironhead just soundin' so sweet. I've become this rare rider, in a handful of riders with so many many miles of listening to those ironhead pipes over so many miles. It's one of the best sounds in the whole world. I can still hear it.
A Non-Stop Ride Weekend . . .
It felt good to ride the 1964 ironhead sportster again. Get on the road in that 90+ heat and hit the interstates and backroads - on Labor Day weekend, when it's busy-as-shit . . . and hot. To ride 750 miles with that Ironhead Harley - all 55 cubic inches - hammer down. I left at 6:30am, but it soon got hot. A stop at Davenport to see that '39 Knuckle Motor the Noot's built (which runs great) and see all my old-bike friends.
I hooked up with my 70 year old dad, who's a pretty hard road rider - and we set off for Springfield - and the Saturday Nite Short Track. On the way, a couple Chicago Outlaws blew past. It looked like a scene from The Bikeriders. Their Labor Day Weekend Club Run to Springfield. This town is just so cool. The night-life. It's kinda a run-down old town, but the people are so gung-ho for that "MILE" - and they all know the reason you're in town. The morning cafes are all full. People waiting. Race shirts everyone. Big, Welcome Racers signs everywhere. The Cove. Rockin' Robins. The Truck Stop. The Stadium. All the places I like to go. We took a different, new back way home, through mid-Illinois rolling hills, then flat country, then hills again. Over, then up thru Macomb - and on to Hamilton, Illinois - across the mighty Miss into Keokuk. The sun goin' down - we just kept going - into the dark. Cooling off the 90s . . . now into the 70s. The old ironhead just soundin' so sweet. I've become this rare rider, in a handful of riders with so many many miles of listening to those ironhead pipes over so many miles. It's one of the best sounds in the whole world. I can still hear it.
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