Tales of the two lanes
I woke to the morning sun burning through my eyelids commanding me to wake and start the day. Almost like the big ball in the sky knew this day was not like any other, but this was the day that my adventure began. Today I was leaving all my worldly possessions behind and hitting the two lane roads of this country on my custom built Honda Chopper motorcycle in search of....that part I really hadn't figured out yet. Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I grabbed the smokes and headed to relieve the fluids that were demanding to be free. As I lit up that first smoke of the day I felt a little overwhelmed by the fact that this day had finally arrived...it seemed like a dream still.

A dream that began with the purchase of a 1975 Honda CB750-4. Bone stock and ugly like an ol nag put out to pasture.
I got it from a guy that called himself "Bones". (I never knew his real name) he was this patch holding wanna be bad-ass who was more of a bad wannabe. Anyway, he had been trying to sell me this old Honda motorcycle. He started at $1200 bucks, but I had no interest at that price.
Meanwhile Tony had been showing me these old 70's Polaroids of the choppers that he had built "back in the day" outta these 750-4 Honda's. Let me tell you, he built some very cool choppers and bobbers.
SO I got Tony egging me on with these pictures and Bones stopping in once a week to see if anyone had an interest.
I was getting the itch to build one for myself. Tony made it seem so easy and I knew that I could never afford a new bike. This was the only way that I was going to get it done. I started saving up my money and making plans.
After a month of little to no responses from his "for sale" ad in the Thrifty Nickel, he was becoming a little more receptive to reasoning. Well actually a lot more receptive. He had come down to $600 hundred. So I asked him to bring it by "Cycle Specialist" the Japanese motorcycle shop that I worked at in Tyler, Texas.
I hadn't seen the bike yet and I also wanted Tony to have a look at it. She arrived on the back of a small trailer pulled by a cool old Ford truck. Complete with a ole school flame paint job. The Truck and the bike came from the same era and you could tell. I was able to get him to come down to $400 dollars,
Well, It would have been $400, Cause that's all the cash that I had to part with. He was stuck at $500 dollars, but there was hint that he was just about to take the money and run, when my boss Tony, chimes in saying "I'll loan ya the other hundred". I was amazed and said "Thanks Tony." It was stock and it was ugly, but it ran. I looked beyond the rusted spokes and tore up seat and even its stock condition. I saw my chance to build my own bike. My very own chopper.
I had ridden motorcycles as a kid, but nothing since then. Until ten years back or so, I got my hands on a 450 hard tailed chopper. Hell I didn't know what I had, but I stripped it down and cleaned it up, painted it and put it all back together. Unfortunately I didn't know anything about wiring the stupid thing up. Without anyone like Tony, to guide or show me, I sold the bike with regrets haunting me ever since. Now the chance had arrived at my door once again and I was going to take full advantage of it this time around.
I was excited the first time that I got to ride it home.
That was after sinking another $400 or so on tires, replacing the clutch and throttle cables, cleaning the carbs, putting new plugs, points and a few other things to make it road worthy. You should have seen the look on my family faces when I pulled up. "Why did you buy that ugly piece of junk for"?
I'm sure this is when they began to question my sanity.
They didn't see what I saw. The potential was phenomenal and the possibilities were almost endless.
I rode it all summer, while I gathered parts, ideas, knowledge. Between my Boss, Tony, who's been wrenching and chopping bikes since the '70's and this web site, aptly named, https://www.sohc750.net. I was able to obtain all info that I needed to get the job done. Besides the fact was that I was getting some great parts at very reasonable prices. Not to mention the brotherhood that I've stumbled on to, but more on that later.

By October I was ready to start choppin'. I was tired of riding it stock. My Boss's satirical words kept ringing in my ears, "You look like a monkey f@*&ing a football riding that stock Honda, boy". As he laughed heartily. He wanted help chop it for me or with me, but I couldn't afford that and Besides I wanted to do it myself.

I started tearing her apart on the sidewalk in front of my apartment. Separating it into the need and don't need piles. After turning the kitchen into my shop. I got the motor out and made it the center piece on the kitchen table. The frame was stripped down to the bone sitting there begging to be cut, chopped. Was it going to be a long raked out bike that was good for short trips or a cruiser that would take me anywhere. The choice was clear, I knew I wanted a functional bike that would get me to where I was going with style and in comfort. I was too old for a hard tail, that part I already knew. Tony had given me the specifications for setting up the frame to get exactly what I wanted and that's where I started.

So For the next six months I was a man with a mission. Grinding, cutting, fitting parts, welding. It had become an obsession with me, consuming me. I spent nights after work, weekends, even the holidays were focused on that monster that was scattered about in the kitchen, even the living room. I had to complete the task at hand. My goal was to have it finished before my birthday in April. A present that would change my life. By April 6, I had it put back together, wired up, painted. Now all it needed was to be taken on a shake down run.

I believe I will always remember the day that I rolled it out of that apartment door. It was a beautiful day as I stood there staring at what I had built. It was gleaming in the Texas sun with all it's fresh polished parts and newly painted tins. The frame was flat black and the tins were painted a deep shiny Black with realistic flames air brushed over them. It was low and mean looking bike. I walked around my new skooter, checking for anything outta place. I felt like I was in a dream as I through my leg over the saddle. It was perfect. I twisted the throttle a couple of times, pulled on the choke, turning on the key I hit the starter button and she roared to life. The 4 into 2 pipes sound great, deep and throaty. After letting her warm up a bit, I kicked her into gear and released the clutch as she rolled forward I could feel the smile on my face grow wider. I turned onto HWY 31 eastward and headed away from the city. As I went through the gears scenes from the movie "Easy Rider" started flashing through my head like a neon sign. I could see myself riding this bike all over the country and it made me twist the wick a little more. When I looked at the speedometer I had the needle buried and she was running smooth, even handling smooth.

That's when the idea to one day hit the road and leave all this shit behind began to formulate in my head. I was becoming more and more disenchanted with this world. Realizing at some point that the American dream is nothing more than propaganda preached by our fine Government to keep us in debt and working. Slaving, even struggling to keep up with the Jones'. Bull Shit I don't need it anymore. I just wanted to get away from it all. I mostly needed to do it for my own sanity. Seeing Americas beauty and all it's natural wonders that it has to offer all on a motorcycle, all on two lanes.

Chapter 2

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air and drew me into the kitchen. As I poured the hot black liquid into my mug I realized this would be the last pot of coffee that I would enjoy in this house. The next pot would be made By Uncle Roy @ the Roost. My only plan that I had at this point was to get to the Roost and the strong desire to get away was leading me. Live free and ride free. Sounds corny I know, but I really need a break from the daily grind. Since birth it's been about the American way...buy a house , get married, have kids....work your ass off to a mass as much shit that you can and hopefully you won't die before you get a chance to enjoy some it. Not to mention the wars that greatly effect our lives, Some closer and more personal than others. The fears that proudly pronounce themselves daily on the boob tube and the radio, concerning the economy, rising gas prices, one heinous crime after another. The American dream has been reduced to memories as foreclosures rule the headlines. American Vets living on the streets, left to deal with the war on their own, along side the homeless who are still homeless BTW. I could go on and on, but you know how shitty the world that we live in is. I just wanna be free from it all. I know I can't completely escape the bullshit, but I can stay away from a good part of it.
The night before I rolled up a slew of J's for the road, taking one out of it secure place in my tin case holder, I fired it up and took a long hard drag, inhaling the sweet tasting herb deep into my lungs. Exhaling, now I was ready...the bike was ready and all packed up. By the time the J was reduced to a memory and the last of the coffee was disposed of all that was left was to lock up. Taking one last look around, making sure I hadn't forgotten anything, I shut the door and lock it, leaving the keys in the mailbox for the new owners. As I walked towards my bike I still felt like it was all a dream. Checking the oil and turning on the gas, I could feel the excitement growing by the minute. By the time I got my jacket and gloves on I couldn't hardly stand it. Throwing my leg over my hand-built machine, I turned the key and with one kick she roared to life with a rumbling sound that puts a smile on my face every time. I was proud of my accomplishment and now I was going to put it to the ultimate test....a long distance road trip. Waiting for her to warm up properly, I lit a smoke and threw on my skid lid and shades. Giving her a good snap of the throttle a couple of times, I engaged the clutch and kicked her into gear. I knew where I was heading first, so easing out my driveway I headed east towards the Great Smokey Mountains. Carefully I planned my route to stay off the major highways as I preferred the two lanes to travel by. To damn many semi trucks to worry about on top of the other cages. Besides it's really hard to sight-see while going 75 mph. North Carolina was just over the mountains and Riders Roost was only 150 miles or so further. The https://www.sohc750.net aka The Dark Side was holding their Meet there again this year. I was getting there a week or so early to meet up with a couple other HCMFs. Bill aka Lady Dr and Brian aka Fynnt Maverick. They are fellow choppahedz that I've gotten to know because of our love of Honda's and the sohc750 web site. That's how we met actually, the web site. I would have never thought I could meet someone on line and end up good friends without even meeting face to face first. "You meet the nicest people on a Honda" has become more to me than just a ad to sell bikes....
The weather was perfect for riding, the sky was blue with just the right amount of clouds to make it picturesque. Like looking at a painting by Bob Ross, Man that guy had a way with a brush and some paint. Rte 11e, took me out of Knoxville where it meets 321 in North Carolina, The twisty, turning roads here are a pleasure to ride. My bike wasn't built for taking the corners fast, but she does better than most. Not that I was in a hurry, mind you. I was anxious to see the others but I would roll into the Roost till 3 or 4 o'clock. I stopped for gas and a rest in Jones-borough, NC., rolling down the ways I found a better spot to do the illegal smoking'. Last thing that I needed was some super trooper tryin' to make the paper by busting an "outlaw" motorcyclist. Not that I'm anything near a outlaw but they seem to make assumptions by what they saw on an episode of Cops on TV. Bad boys, Bad boys, whatcha gonna do......Go get some donuts.
With the head right, I headed back on the road and was really looking forward to the twisties now. The mountains were as majestic as the anthem states and I was lovin' every minute of my new found freedom. This wasn't like my normal yearly ride to the Roost and the Dark Side Meet. This time I had no time limits, nothing to get back to, no job, house, car, nothing that was pressing me. I could go anywhere I wanted or just sit tight and enjoy the surroundings. Which was exactly what I was going to do for the next 3 weeks or so. Riders Roost was a great Bike Campground, No cages, no kids, no hassles. Uncle Roy and Mary really know how to take care of "motorcycle pilots". "The Road goes on forever and the party never ends." I think that's the Roosts motto or it should be. There's a perfect little river that runs through the camp ground and in the rocks is a place that is like natures recliners, complete with moss to scratch the back. The water temperature is cool but after riding all day in the sun and heat....man what a refreshing way to relax and wash the road off ya. Most gather at the party headquarters located under the pavilion/game room. There is a pool table and darts to keep one entertained. This is also where the midnight auction is held too. What a way to start an adventure.