Fine Art Of Washing Motorcycles

Let’s face it, sometimes a motorcycle will accumulate a thick coating, a patina, if you will, of mud, grease, chain oil, diesel exhaust, and various kinds of slime, that can be associated with bikers. And on special occasions, this “patina” must be removed, as expediently as possible. And if said patina can be removed by attractive women in bikinis, so much the better. So without further ado, I will attempt to demonstrate the process, in a series of photos.

Make sure there are buckets full of cleaning agents

Be thorough. Scour those cracks and crevasses.

Hose down the biker, if necessary.

Admonish the biker if the motorcycle is extremely dirty.

Finally, towel dry.

And now, a refresher...

Scour...

Rinse

Blowdryer is a handy addition

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Motorcycles and Photography

Motorcycles and Photography: Always liked both, so when I started going to rides and events it clicked. The photo above is of Skinner and Kitty on route to Marcus Dairy. I made my darkroom in the space near the oil burner. It had a sink, a red light bulb, beer and rock and roll. The oil burner would come on loud for heat or hot water and I would have to turn up the music and drink more beer. It was kinda like my own little private party developing pictures but I think the music might have woken my sleeping family upstairs, so I'd turn off the oil burner to be more quiet, then forget to turn it back on and we'd all wake up in the middle of the night freezing. I spent a lot of time under that red bulb developing, making prints and breathing fixer fumes but it kept me out of trouble, somewhat. Most of my riding shots were taken with a 28mm wide angle lens, at f8 or f11 set for hyperfocal distance. EASYRIDERS, IN THE WIND, BIKER, and more. Here's a complete list of my published...

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It was our first ride to Sturgis on the new Superglide and we rode through torrential down pours, truck gauntlets, Chicago traffic jams, unrelenting midwest sunglare and crossed the mighty Mississippi. We’d set our daily limit at 500 miles per day, an easy goal west of the Mississippi; we spent our first Sturgis night in Wall. Badlands was spectacular, but hot and dry, so we headed west looking for a bar. In New Underwood, we found “The Worlds Smallest Biker Bar,” a friendly place where the bartender held coins between her cheeks and dropped them into a cup.

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