Okay, not everyone has or likes to use e-mail. Then don't bother. I will no longer do YuKu PMs. I will not respond to PMs. To do so means I must log in to get my messages, and somehow this has lost it's appeal to do on any kind of a regular basis. However, you can contact me via e-mail HERE. I check my mail often and should reply fairly quickly.

Back to your normal HC.com programming

Got into bikes at about 14 and been addicted ever since. Been in the saddle of a Honda 750 chop for goin' on 25 years. Old school all the way. No trailer queens here. None this insect on wheels crap like they're pumping out these days. My bikes are motorcycles first and only, not trophies, rolling art, mortgages on wheels, or status symbols to flaunt in someone's face. I ride 'em, simple as that. If my "Houndogs ain't barkin" I must be dead.

I Love wrenchin' and am always helping buds with their bikes as well. Word around the neighborhood is if it's got a motor and two wheels my garage is always open. I don't have a problem with other makes and have no issues with any brand so long as I am left to mine and respected the same. I ride with all kinds, from old schoolers like myself riding old shovelheads to stunters on their crotch rockets.

If I can help I'll probably offer, but don't be shy, just ask. I've had my share of breaks and don't mind passing it along. Hell, I may have to ask sometime and I'd feel pretty crappy if all I had done was take. By the same token I'll not be taken and sit quietly afterward. If I have a part you need it's yours, but if you're taking advantage of my nature to save money for silly shit like finned covers and 250mm rear wheel getups we're probably not gonna get along too well afterward unless I see you giving the same kind of breaks to others. Many think I'm an asshole. Most are right. However, the good friends I have are just that, GOOD friends, not associations, affiliations, or other people that just happen to ride the same kind of bike I do. Fuggabuncha mainstream brotherhood garbage. To most, brotherhood ends where bikes, babes, buzz, or booze are involved and very rarely takes precedence over them. Friendship lasts forever as this is based on respect, not status.

If you're passing through my neck of the woods and have a little time to burn by all means holler at me. Don't need much of an excuse to put on a few miles. If I did what kind of biker would I be?

My title is Garage Troll and House Bitch, but in real world technical terms: House husband, pet sitter, pooper scooper, janitor, landscaper, answering service, resident PC support, errand boy, leech, mooch, grey haired bum. Oh, and the OL says I'm a horse's ass sometimes.

I manage to bring in a few bucks here and there by doing web sites and home pages on the cheap for folks (primarily because there are too many ripoffs in the industry). After 15 years in IT I had pretty much had enough with the BS associated with the industry. Seems it was always the end user that got the shaft.

I service guitars here and there for local working musicians as that is one more group that the industry preys on and bleeds dry.

For some time now I have been rebuilding carbs for folks, most of which is detail work but now and then I get odd balls other than the SOHC carbs. There's some info on my little spot of the web here.

Most of my time is consumed by motorcycles, guitars, camping, wrenching. Did I mention motorcycles? Taking derilict bikes and guitars and resurrecting them. The bigger the challenge the better. I'm not able to work a conventional job due to a medical situation so I keep busy with whatever I can. Boredom sucks.

The last 8 years I've been poked, prodded, irradiated, irrigated, manipulated, and in a few instances violated by the whitecoat medical community but not until recently did they FINALLY figure out what I've been bitching about all this time. They found a brain tumor in two recent MRI scans and that first it was a cyst, then a tumor, then a fibroid mass, then MS (including botched spinal tap) which all turned out to be wrong, and to add icing to the cake they say I now have some freakish disease called fibromyalgia on top of things. The way I see it I've just got a little more upstairs than the average idiot and now have a brain fart to blame for my brain farts! I will say this, if they insist I become their poster child test hamster they're gonna have to start giving me some freebies, or at least clean out my cage every now and then or I'm liable to bite the next fat manicured finger that tries to violate my personal space!

So far no two "experts" have agreed. One says it's a cyst, another MS, another Fibromyalgia, another says it's "nothing", and the latest is it is an old stroke with scarring around it. I'm surprised one of the morons hasn't told me it's lowfat cottage cheese and goes well with pineapple. Papered pedigreed foreskins, all of em. It's a Fred and he don't like you.

I got news for all these whitecoats and their barbaric tests:

No more spinal taps, colonoscopies, or traditoinal prostate checks. My oil level is fine, my crapper trap works great, and yes, I can still pee so leave me alone. Fred doesn't like you, your white coat, your pedigrees on the wall, you beemer, or your fancy titles and he's about to open up a can of whoopass on y'all. If Fred don't like you neither to I.