I Wanna Ride!

Gawd, the weather sucks this spring. Cold, rainy ... yech. How long can this go on?

This is NOT a picture of me, but of an actress playing me in a recent Honda commercial.

Life gets in the way, too ...

"I wanna ride!"

Chase my Shadow!

'nuff said. See you on the road this weekend?

How 'Smart' Are We?

When I had trouble connecting to the Internet last week in Florida, man, was I wishing I had a smart phone.

Or should I say a stupid phone? Cuz I think the reason they're called "smart" phones is that they're smarter than the people who use them.

They're so smart, they're slowly taking over the country.

Which brings me to an observation I had last week. We've all seen people sitting together at a restaurant and one or more having separate conversations on their phones. Now more often I see people in groups, all texting while ignoring their Real Life companions. I see couples checking their Facebook pages, stocks, what have you, until the meal arrives, then they eat and go back to their "smart" phones afterward.

And tourists walking among the shops on St. George Street in the historic district of St. Augustine were often holding out their iPhones like oil lamps lighting their way in the darkness.

Motorcyclists are into these things, too. They mount them on their bikes to use as entertainment systems, GPS units, cameras and ... oh, yes, phones. Which makes me think this is an awful lot of distraction. I mean, walking down the street you're liable to walk into something, but on a motorcycle, it's just plain nuts. The phone clearly has the upper hand here.

I already have a GPS unit for my motorcycle, the Tom Tom Rider. I like it OK, because I  get lost very easily, and so it gives me peace of mind. It's designed specifically for motorcycles — sturdy design, waterproof case and big onscreen buttons that work with gloves on. It has voice directions that beam with BlueTooth directly to my headset if I want.

One could rationalize that the iPhone will perform the GPS functions and even more, all in one handy unit, although I have seen complaints that it doesn't work with a gloved hand, so that would be an issue for me. I'm an ATGATT kind of gal (all the gear, all the time).

Still, if you're into it, there's this really cool app that turns your iPhone into a gauge face for your Harley-Davidson.

A free app called GaugeFace turns your iPhone into a motorcycle dashboard.

I read about GaugeFace on a gadget blog. It's an application that lets you hook your iPhone into the onboard computer engine control unit and it reads out real-time engine data, displaying speedometer, tachometer, engine temperature, indicator signals and the gear you're running in. Wow!

But, umm ... gee ... don't those things come with the bike already? Well, sure, but this is a new toy!!

The app is free; using it requires not only a proper iPhone device but also a hardware adapter to work with your Harley. No word yet about one that works with other bikes.

So, I get it. you want the latest-greatest for your machine. Or maybe it's the stupid phone addiction that makes me want it in front of my face at all times. Trouble is, there are already enough distractions on the road, and a distracted motorcyclist becomes a dead motorcyclist, eventually.

I guess I shouldn't criticize. I don't even have a so-called smart phone. Yet. But I sure want one. I just hope I don't turn into one of those zombies helping the devices take over the world.

Riding the Road King

Ironman just wants to ride.

Last Wednesday we rented a 2011 Road King in St. Augustine, Fla., and rode it south to Daytona Beach. The next morning we rode it north for about an hour then returned it to the St. Augustine Harley-Davidson dealer. It cost about $160 for 24 hours, and the rental process was easy to do.

The contract required the rider to be licensed for motorcycles (duh!), be at least 21 years old and insured — either through a personal policy (Progressive covered us for the rental) or a temporary one offered at a minimal additional cost by the dealership.

Dealership manager Allen Good was friendly and not at all pushy. He did not try to sell us a bike, in other words.

While the mens took care of rental details I shopped, natch, and bought yet another pair of gloves (like I NEED another pair) — perforated pink leather driving gloves, which I wore as we rode the Atlantic coast.

Good spent about 20 minutes explaining the bike's features to be sure Ironman knew how everything works — how the bags latch, for instance, the turn signals, which are different on the Harley than on our bikes, the cruise control (something else Ironman had never used before), etc.

Allen Good points out features of the bike for the rental rider.

My husband drove a Yamaha 500 for several years when I first met him. Then he bought a Yamaha V-Star 650, which he traded in on an '07 Kawasaki Vulcan Nomad in 2006. His bike has a 1600 cc engine. The Road King — noted in inches according to the American tradition — has approximately the same engine size at 96 cubic inches.

Look, ma ... no key!

One difference right from the start: The Road King has six speeds. Both of our bikes have only five. Another — and this one flipped me out — it has a keyless ignition. You don't put the key into the ignition, you put it in your pocket and a proximity signal activates the ignition when you turn the switch.

His main complaint about the Road King was leg room. He felt cramped on it. We both noticed that our knees were a little higher than our hips with our feet on the footboards. And I noticed that the passenger footboard was narrower and smaller overall than the ones that came stock on his Kawasaki.

My bigger complaint as a passenger was that I could not see over his head. The pillion was too low for that. This, however, was a factor in one item on his "pro" list: It felt very stable, with a lower center of gravity than his Nomad.

The Road King had a terrible vibration when in neutral, though. I've noticed that on friends' bikes. It was far less noticeable while the bike was moving, but still, sitting in traffic it would give me a headache.

The transmission made a bang that alarmed me when I heard it. Ironman, however, said he liked the transmission; that it was obvious when it dropped into gear. It seemed to me when he started off from a stop or made a turn that the engine was lugging just a bit, making me wonder if it was truly in first gear. We talked about that, and Ironman allowed that his unfamiliarity with the bike might have been to blame for that.

He was very much against the idea of using cruise control on a motorcycle. He didn't like the idea of taking speed out of his control. But he admitted he liked it while he had it, though he didn't use it extensively.

This bike did not have the noisy aftermarket exhaust that Harley lovers cherish and nonbikers abhor, but it was louder than his Kawasaki, for sure, and louder than my Honda, too.

I had some trouble with the saddlebags, though I believe they do have a good design. They are clearly waterproof, roomy and solid, and the top-load design is most practical. However, I had difficulty hooking and unhooking the latches and was just getting the hang of it when we returned the bike.

He drove it about 115 miles in the 24 hours we had it. When we filled the tank, it took about 4.5 gallons, if I recall correctly, yielding about 26 miles to the gallon. He gets about 40 on his Kawasaki, and I get 55 with my Honda.

After we turned in the Road King, Ironman said, "That was fun; I'd do it again."

And although if price were no consideration, he still prefers his Kawasaki, he also said he would consider buying a Harley.

The King watches over Rossmeyer H-D in Daytona Beach.

In Daytona Beach, we visited the world's largest Harley-Davidson dealership, Bruce Rossmeyer's. There I tried on a new SuperLow for size. I did not start it or take it out, but sat on it to feel the dimensions.

It felt pretty good, with the 25-inch seat height, and I noted that the engine — the 883-cubic-incher that has been Harley's low-end sportster for years — would be more powerful than my 750, with less weight. However, at more than $10,000 (Harley says the SuperLow starts at $7,999), I paid about half as much for my Honda Shadow cruiser. True, I bought it used. But it had only 3,500 miles on it and also came to me with extras not on the SuperLow I sat on, such as a windshield and saddlebags.

The Harley-Davidson SuperLow is being marketed for women.

Last Day in Florida

The ancient gates to the City of St. Augustine

I planned to do a lot more updates while we were in Florida, but the Internet connection has been a major frustration. I had to go to the motel lobby to connect (even here, it's slow), and I just can't make my man sit and wait while I write and upload.


My solution is to give you a few quick images and get to the rest later. We did rent a Road King for 24 hours on Wednesday, then rode south to Daytona Beach. I'll give you some of our impressions riding it when I get somewhere with friendlier connectivity.

While we were in St. Augustine, the heat was another issue. It's been close to 90 degrees all week, and these northerners were whipped by 1 p.m. So we didn't do nearly as much as we thought we might, choosing instead to rest midday in our motel room.

We passed so many places I'd like to visit — national parks, historic sites and beaches and such — but there's only so much one can do in four days. We missed the pirate museum, the Lightner Museum (although we did peruse the antique shops in the formerly largest indoor pool of the former Alcazar Hotel built by the ambitious Henry Flagler on King Street downtown), we never did see the "Oldest House," which was about a block from our motel, or the Fountain of Youth archeological site. Dig it.

Eureka! Ponce de Leon found it, but alas we did not.

We did manage a little seaside cruising and one all-too brief beach walk ...

Two sisters wade in the Atlantic Ocean

Heeere, leezard, leezard ...

visits to the St. Augustine Lighthouse and Museum ...

... and of course, the Castillo San Marcos.

Re-enactors play Spanish soldiers at the Castillo San Marcos.

A view of the bay off the edge of the Castillo

Today we're heading north again, taking our time to return home, where I've been told it snowed on Monday. I see it's still raining in the Ohio River Valley. Oh, well ... another time.

St. Augustine, Florida

Don and Sherry of Charlotte, N.C. unpack from their ride South.

We're in St. Augustine, Fla., the oldest European settlement in the United States. Lucky us, we're staying right on the bay, near the Castillo San Marcos, which has a long history as a 14th century Spanish fort that the English could not penetrate.

I love historical things, so this is great fun by the sea.

Don't get me wrong; there's plenty of junk shops in the historical area, too ... and as we walk in the hot spring, we duck into shop after shop scented with incense and blaring Sirrius radio, selling T-shirts with pirates, funny sayings about looting, drinking and fishing — and Monster energy drink logos (Why would anyone pay for such things?).

The downtown smells sweetly of tiny flowers growing along fences, and buskers play bucket drums, guitars, flutes and all manner of musical instruments for tips outside the tourist shops.

We visited the Castillo yesterday, ate locally caught seafood (Ironman had paella for the first time ever), and enjoyed the historical architecture of St. Augustine. I also bought some jewelry, naturally, and some clothing, including a fire red pair of board shorts. The clerk was all excited about the ones I chose because they "come with a bottle opener." He said it twice. Yep, there's a combo bottle opener and board scraper strapped into the pocket. Silly me, I thought it was a comb.

We met Don and Sherry from Charlotte, N.C., who are staying at our motel. They drove in on their 2004 Screaming Eagle, painted in the Harley-Davidson colors. Very clean. Nice couple.

Don and Sherry ride together.

Don found their bike on eBay.

At 8:30 a.m. it's hot and steamy already in the Sunshine State.

This morning we're going to Harley-Davidson of St. Augustine to rent a Road King and drive down the coast a while. I've only been on one Harley in my life. Ironman wants to see the differences between his Kawasaki Vulcan Nomad and the Road King.

Going Down South

We're not the only ones traveling on four wheels...

I'm probably the only person in Michigan who can complain about going to Florida in spring. It's practically a residential requirement to vacation in Florida as often as possible.

But this year, I had my heart set on my first long motorcycle tour. I spent so much time and effort planning a riverside run in the Ohio River Valley. I'd prepared mentally, bought new gear and outfits to keep dry and warm in the elements, plotted the route on Google -- I was even packed a month in advance.

I was ready to go. But the weather wasn't. Two days before our planned departure, the forecast for Ohio called for rain every day. I was dubious -- but it was my Ironman who instantly shifted gears.

"It won't break my heart if we don't ride," he said. For him, the only break was a spring break in southern sunshine. It almost broke MY heart. Yet I had to agree. After the long, cold winter, we wanted -- no, needed -- some warm Vitamin D-infusing sun.

So I went back to AAA and got maps for Florida, did some maintenance on the car and patted my motorcycle goodbye. Now we're on the road to Florida; some 16 hours south on I-75.

The wind was wicked for hundreds of miles, till we got into the mountains. Ironman noted it would have overwhelmed him to spend six hours riding in it. I knew he was right. The further south we got, the more bikes we passed, headed north.

We make better time in the car, snacking on the road and stopping only for potty breaks, caffeine and gas. Just before sundown we stopped for dinner at a local BBQ restaurant. Inexpensive, friendly and totally small-town.

A friendly local joint for roadside supper.

The doors swing both ways at Bradley's Pit BBQ in Sweetwater, Tenn.

Thank God for waitresses who ask "Swee'tea or unsweet tea?" Cuz this northern gal doesn't think to say "hold the sugar."

Two pulled pork platters with greens, mac & cheese and fries.

The consolation is we plan to rent a bike when we get down there. I don't mind riding two-up for a couple of days.

We will have fun. But it's not the same.

A fellow traveler in Tennessee.

Dry and Warm Beats Wet and Cold

Wicking works!

I did a little comparison test on cold-weather gear this week while riding to work.

Last week when I took my daily commute, as I said before, it was only 37 degrees outside. But I was dressed in my touring suit, a silk scarf over my face, two layers of gloves and two layers of socks — a pair of Smartwool socks with polypropylene liners inside.

Today it was actually warmer when I took my ride, but I was wearing cotton socks under my Smartwools, and guess who's toes are STILL cold as I sit typing this in my warm office.

OK, I have to admit, it wasn't an intentional test. Fact is, I was just too lazy to go find the poly liners and swap 'em for the cotton ones I had on. But now I see that saving a minute in a rush two to get to my early-morning dental appointment was a mistake.

So there you have it. Personal experience bears out what athletes and other riders have been telling me: When it's cold, cotton kills! Or at least makes me unpleasant.

Thanks to Hiking Lady for this image of a sock and liner.

Don't be a Statistic

This Suzuki was driven by a 24-year-old Waterford Township man who was killed in the crash that wrecked the bike. The orange marking on the tires is paint used by the accident investigator.

Very sad news in Waterford Township this week. Over the weekend, two motorcyclists were killed in crashes on Highland Road (M-59). Both deaths were preventable.

In each case, the motorcyclist drove into the back of another vehicle. By definition, that means they were not in control of their vehicle, that they were following too closely and too quickly.

I know those are harsh words. But they are true. The evidence proves it. I've done it myself, hitting someone ahead of me with my car. And guess who gets the ticket.

"He stopped suddenly," is the excuse people give. Too bad you weren't paying closer attention. Too bad you didn't make sure you could see traffic ahead of him. Too bad you didn't follow the three-second rule.

Not familiar with that rule? It's simple. Look for a stationary object — a lamp pole, a crack in the road, a specific yellow line, and count from the moment the vehicle ahead of you passes until you pass it: "One-thousand-one; One-thousand-two; One-thousand-three." At a normal speaking rate, not an impatient one. You'll be amazed how long three seconds can be when you're traveling at 60 mph.

Most people drive too close. They seem to believe that "tailgating" means leaving only a car length or less between vehicles. According to the three-second rule, it can be as much as six car lengths or more, depending on your speed.

On a bike, I actually prefer a four-second rule, but other drivers who don't know this rule tend to squeeze in front when I leave a space. David L. Hough, in his book "Proficient Motorcycling," says the majority of all motorcycle fatalities involved the motorcycle crashing head-on into something.

In one case last weekend, a 24-year-old driving a Suzuki GSX-R600 was traveling at a "high rate of speed," according to police, when the SUV in front of him slowed for traffic ahead of him. The Suzuki driver tried to brake, police said, but the bike hit the pavement and skidded slideways into the SUV, killing the rider. Yes, he was wearing a helmet.

I don't know whether the rider tried to "lay it down" — but please know that is ALWAYS a bad choice, because rubber and brakes will beat sliding steel and plastic for stopping power every time.

According to safety experts who calculate these things, it takes a minimum of 144 feet to stop a motorcycle at 50 mph; 253 feet at 70 mph. At only 45 mph, you will travel nearly 200 feet in three seconds. So what happens if the car in front of you stops for no apparent reason?

My heart goes out to the families and friends of these two men who died so young. Let their deaths not be in vain. Learn from them. Take it slow in spring when your riding skills are rusty. Use the  three- (or four-) second rule. Watch vigilantly around you, and scan TWELVE seconds ahead. If you can't see what's happening with the traffic in front of the car ahead of you, back off or change your lane position.

It won't matter who was right and who was wrong. In a collision, the biker always loses.

2006 Chrysler Town and Country minivan that was hit by a 2004 Harley-Davidson motorcycle driven by Larry Dwayne Sears, 44 of Waterford Township, on Highland Road in Waterford on Saturday night. Sears was killed.

Cafe Racer a TV star?

A crew from the "Café Racer" TV show on Discovery HD Theater was at the Café Racer shop in Ypsilanti, Mich., over the weekend filming for an upcoming episode of the show.

Owned by John Craddock and Leah Halbert, Café Racer Ypsi does maintenance and repair on all types of bikes, sells biker-related goodies and hosts bike movie nights in the heart of historic Depot Town, just off the Eastern Michigan University Campus.

I know they were real excited to be included, though they seemed to be worked hard to act normal when I visited on Saturday afternoon. The camera crew was small, and I watched some coverage shots being made.

There's no word on when the show might air, but I hope to find out and share it with you when I do. My guess is it'll be three to six months before it goes on TV. I hate to admit I don't know a lot about this show; I don't have HD service and have never seen it. But I'd love to if I get the chance.

Cafe Racer is at 10 E. Cross Street in Ypsilanti, 734-879-1201. Hours are 10 a.m.-6 p.m. Tuesday through Friday, 10 a.m.-4 p.m. Saturday, closed Sunday and Monday.

Spring Tune Up

Finally! A real ride — my morning commute to work. It was 37 degrees when I left home, and the temperature didn't rise till later in the afternoon. Even then it reached only 52, and the sun never did peek out.

I was fully bundled in my new touring jacket and pants, poly fleece jacket, wool socks and silk scarf. It was OK for the first 17 miles, before the fingers on my right hand started to feel cold. Unfortunately my commute to work is nearly double that.

At a red light I gave my right hand a shake to get the blood flowing again. Pretty soon the fingers of my left hand felt cold, too, and my right were stinging. I extended and flexed them to try to warm them.

I needed to get out there, because although winter has dragged on into spring, Ironman and I are leaving on a 9-day trip in just a week. I have new equipment to try out and needed my spring tune-up.

The first thing I had to change out was my choice of helmet. I wanted to try a flip-up helmet I got with my bike. It's cute because it's the same color as my Shadow, but feels confining so I hadn't worn it on the bike before.

The moment I began to roll, I stopped the bike, got off and went back inside for a different helmet. My eyeglasses were fogging up. There was so much vapor inside the helmet I could not see. I know there's a vent at the front, but I couldn't risk it.

The waterproof gloves I had just bought aren't particularly warm, so I wore silk liners inside them. Their outer shell is leather, so before taking them out I thoroughly oiled them with bear grease. I thought that would not only help keep the outer leather dry, but improve my grip. Boy, that's an understatement. I got a grip that wouldn't let me slip the clutch. First I had difficulty putting on my turn signal, because the glove was superglued to the handlebar. Then I found that pulling off in first gear was an adventure when that clutch wouldn't engage till I let go completely.

So ...
a) talcum powder for the glove?
b) give up the waterproof pair?
c) adjust how I use my clutch hand?
d) pray and hope it goes away?

These are things I have to work out before heading out on the highway. One great thing you don't get riding in a cage: The moment I turned onto Elizabeth Lake Road in Waterford Twp., I smelled french fries!

Twinkle, Twinkle Little Bike

Jodi Johnson

This weekend, you can see a lady rider who has made her reputation crystal clear.

Jodi Johnson decorated her own Harley-Davidson with pink flames and Swarovski crystals, and she designs sparkly things for other women riders — via her own company, J-Bling — sold by Backdraft Custom Cycles of Charlotte, Mich.

She's featured on the cover of the free Michigan biker mag Thunder Roads, in its current "Women Riders" edition.

You can download a free electronic version of the mag here.
By the way I adore electronic mags — you can read it and delete it; no recycling, no landfill trash!

Jodi will appear at the Giant Motorcycle Swap Meet, which runs 11 a.m. to 4 p.m.Sunday, April 17, at The Suburban Collection Showplace (formerly Rock Financial Showplace), 46100 Grand River Ave.  in Novi. 


Admission is $10 for adults and $3 for ages 6-12. Free parking for motorcycles; car parking is $5. To buy tickets in advance, visit www.motorcycleswap.com. The Showplace can be accessed from exit 159, 160 or 162 of I-96. Head south to Grand River Avenue.

Jodi's Harley

Roadside Reading: 'How to Build a Bobber on a Budget'

Do not take Jose de Miguel's title literally. Although he does give many tips on how to build a bobber, and he gives a number of ideas how to save money while doing it, he doesn't actually talk much about budgeting.

So if you're serious about following a budget, you're on your own charting what you can afford and how to get there.

Granted, it's hard for any author to lay out a budget chart for you, since he won't know what you want to do with your own build, nor how and where you'll obtain your parts.

De Miguel builds custom bikes for a living, so he needs to know how to do it on the cheap. The first thing he addresses is where to get your "donor bike" — the one you'll strip to get parts for your final motorcycle. He's not fond of buying on the Internet, preferring to scour his own neighborhood, canvassing friends and acquaintances and checking bike shops for parts they'll sell for cheap or even give away.

Antique doorknobs can be repurposed as shifter knobs.

He also suggests the unusual tactic of scouring antique shops and flea markets for metal parts that could be modified or pressed into service as pedals, floorboards or decorative elements.

The problem with the Internet, he says, is that you never know what you're really getting until it's too late, and if you're not satisfied you have to deal with shipping costs and hassles. Buy locally and you can always go back for advice or refunds.

He also attempts to define the difference between a chopper and a bobber, though he admits these terms mean different things to different people.

"Right off the bat, I am letting you know that it is almost impossible to describe what defines a bobber or a chopper in detail or with accuracy," he writes. "It's kind of the egg/chicken thing ..." He notes that to many people a long front end epitomized by Captain America's bike in "Easy Rider" defines a chopper, while a shorter racing style is a bobber. Both are bikes customized by the rider by chopping off parts to lighten the bike. "So in a sense, today's norm on long bikes means it's not a chopper since they add as much as possible," he writes.

"Since everyone has a different opinion, this is kind of a futile discussion. I call what I build bob/chops, since these bikes have traits of both bobbers and choppers."

That behind us, de Miguel does go into detail describing the kinds of tools you should have, the ones you might have on hand and the ones you'd love to have if you have sufficient money for them. He encourages the home builder to learn new skills while working on a bike, such as learning how to weld, but at the same time he warns to be careful riding your first welding job, because you don't want the frame to fall apart miles from home. If you're not confident, he says, ask a friend for help.

Individual expression is the key to building your own, he emphasizes, so be creative first and check out the functionality as you go. He says he uses everything he knows when he builds, trying hard not to copy others, but using their ideas as bases for his creations. He's particularly influenced by Indian Larry, who he mentions a half-dozen times throughout the book.

Taking photos while you're working is especially useful, he says, because you don't want to forget after it's apart where the pieces went and how. Besides, that adds to your before/after scrapbook to show friends.

Some of his photos are out of focus, but that small fault is more than compensated by the marvelous volume of pictures he includes in his book. And he's indexed chapters by color, with a color code on the back cover to let you find exactly the part you need to reference.

His writing is straightforward, and he even throws in a bit of humor ("As you can see, the last time they serviced this front end was during Columbus' third trip.") and humility, describing some of the mistakes he's made in his building process.

"How to Build a Bobber" is part of the excellent Motorbooks Workshop series. If you're interested in home garage building, this book could save you some time and heartache.


"How to
Build a
Bobber on
a Budget,"
by Jose
de Miguel,
Motorbooks,
160 pages,
$25.95.


I give it 4 Revs out of 5

Friday Fim: 'The Wild Angels'

At first, I thought this will be cool. By the end I was saying, "ick."

This is an arty classic from the canon of motorcycle genre movies, made by the great cult director Roger Corman, who's from Detroit. Corman claims credit for making this the first in a long string of Hells Angels-inspired films, many of which he made himself.

You gotta love the nasty, garagey psychedelic rock score that plays under the opening credits. You know it’s gonna be good.

Peter Fonda is Heavenly Blues, president of the Angels Motorcycle Club — patterned on the Hells Angels. His buddy, Loser (Bruce Dern), loses his legitimate job on an oil drilling crew because the boss doesn’t like Blue’s looks. He’s wearing an Iron Cross and the boss reminds him that “we killed people" wearing Nazi symbols during the war.

Blues (Peter Fonda) and Loser (Bruce Dern) threaten Loser's boss on his last day working there.

Blues has come to tell Loser that his missing chopper was found in the dessert. They pick up Loser’s old lady (Diane Ladd), and head off with the club to Mexico in search of the bike.

But things go badly, and Loser takes off on a highway patrolman’s motorcycle, then gets shot in a chase. The pursuing trooper slides off the edge of the road and crashes.

The rest of the club meets up in a hollow where chicks are dancing in their underwear and guys are drinking beer and racing each other. Just having fun. One of the club members, Frankenstein, gets a little too friendly with Loser's old lady, Gaysh.

Frankenstein puts the moves on Loser's old lady.

Things go from bad to worse for Loser when the bikers sneak into the hospital where he lies recovering from blood loss, and "break him out." They end up carrying his body back to his hometown for burial.

Then the bikers hassle the preacher trying to eulogize their friend. They are rebels against uptight society and don’t wanna hear his straight-ass line.

“Just what is it that you want to do?” the preacher asks Blues.

“Well, we wanna be free!” Blues tells him at the funeral for Joey “The Loser.”

"We wanna be free .. get loaded!"

“We wanna be free to do what we want to do, we wanna be free to ride and ... we wanna be free to ride our machines without being hassled by the man. And we wanna get loaded. And we wanna have a good time.

“And that’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna have a good time. We’re gonna have a party.”

So they bust up the joint, and somebody knocks the preacher to the floor. Then, as he tries to escape, an Angel grabs him by the throat and Blues punches him in the gut. Bet he’s sorry he agreed to officiate.

During the bash, two Angels rape the widow. Some party, huh?

Meanwhile, Blues can’t decide whether he still loves Mike, his old lady. But that doesn’t stop him from punching a guy she’s dancing with.

Mike (Nancy Sinatra) just wants to know Blues still loves her.

Call me bourgeois, but this doesn't look like fun to me.

The film was made at a time when youths were rebelling against their parents' ideals of middle-class comfort, and turning on to their own ideals of freedom from all restrictions. It reminds us that freedom isn't free. Also in this social commentary, the Vietnam War intrudes briefly when Blues’ girl turns on a radio, switches the station away from a news report, then turns it off again.

Dern is outstanding in his role as a guy whose name defines his future, as is his then-wife, Ladd, as the lost biker chick.

For the record, The Hells Angels sued Corman for defamation of character and threatened to stomp him, but luckily for us, he survived to become one of the legends of American cult filmmaking. He's probably best known for directing the 1960 original "The Little Shop of Horrors," with Jack Nicholson, but my favorite is his 1959 beatnik horror story "Bucket of Blood," starring Dick Miller. Incidentally, Miller has a tiny role as an oil rigger early in "Wild Angels."

Dern and Ladd are the parents of actress Laura Dern. One of the fun things about watching old movies like this is seeing how people change through their careers, and it’s uncanny how much her daughter today resembles the young Ladd.

Also in the cast is Michael J. Pollard, who was very active in Hollywood in the ’60s — he appeared in the great “Bonnie and Clyde,” and played teenager Jahn in the original “Star Trek” episode “Miri.” Not that he’s been slacking since then. According to imdb.com, he’s been in 106 movies and TV shows since 1959, including a movie in pre-production now. Not that I trust the imdb, but it’s usually more right than wrong.

The imdb has a trailer with commentary from Corman.

"The Wild Angels,"
directed by
Roger Corman,
Starring Peter Fonda,
Nancy Sinatra,
Bruce Dern, Diane Ladd
“and members of Hells
Angels of Venice, Calif.”
1966, rated R for drug use,
93 minutes.

I give it 4 Revs out of 5