Hanging Out At The Bar After Work

Riding through Hillcrest in San Diego at night

Around 5:30pm, every day, my thoughts usually switch from website design work to hitting up the local bars and downing a few beers. I don't work in an office where I'm with several other people, I work in my home (or my temporary home), and am often alone or with Sash.

If I don't get out at night and belly up to a bar, then I lose all interaction with other human beings.

And Sash and I have a lot of fun hanging out at bars after work. We get to know some of the regulars and the employees. Sash gets to be her fabulous sashy self, hamming it up with the folks, while I get to sit quietly at the bar and try the newest craft brews. We'll often play a round of bar trivia too.

And if you really think about it, my life is pretty simple. I work all day on my laptop, and then go hang out at the bar at night.  It also affords me the opportunity to ride my motorcycle, even if it's just a few miles of city streets in the dark.

But I do get tired of the routine. In fact, I don't do well with routine. I find it too routine. After awhile, I feel as if my life is passing me by, and I need to do something different. That's when my mind turns to getting out of town and going on a road trip.

Beer and chicken wings at Hillcrest Brewing

In fact, as you're reading this, we've gotten out of Dodge and headed to Yuma, AZ for a few nights.  Yuma is not really much of a destination. It's kind of a dumpy town in fact. But it's a few hours ride away from San Diego, and it's in another state. And that's seem to suit me well.

Meanwhile, the bar I often hang out at is Hillcrest Brewing. It's located in the Hillcrest community of San Diego. If you know San Diego, then you know Hillcrest as having the highest concentration of homosexuals in the city. But it's really a very happy place. I guess that's why they call them gays. Hillcrest Brewing bill's itself as the world's first LGBT brewery.  I'm not sure why I hang out there, I'm pretty content to just squeeze on Sash. But it's just a very friendly place.

But while the urban center of San Diego is very liberal, the outer suburbs is very conservative. And it's just a coincidence that in a few weeks, Sash and I will be moving to those conservative suburbs from our comfy digs in the urban center.  It just worked out that way due to a referral from a friend and cheaper rent. It'll be too far of a ride to hang out with my homosexual friends in Hillcrest, and I guess I'll have to tip glass with white collar conservatives instead.

But that's OK, because the libertarian in me tends to agree with lower taxes and fewer regulations while being free to suck anything you want.

Of course, it's all just bar chatter.  But that's what I love about hanging out at the bar after work.  Good beer, friendly people, and bullshit.

Certainly nothing wrong with wishful thinking. But there's a lot of them in Hillcrest

Sash and I park our bikes by the back entrance to Hillcrest Brewing

Sash riding her motorcycle at night

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1948 Harley-Davidson FL Panhead

Shaking my head with my arms folded, I watched him cycle the kickstarter a couple of times until he got the crankshaft into the right position. Then he stepped up on it and slammed it down.

"Blub."

"Blub, blub."

"Blub, blub, blub, potato potato potato..."

It started up on the very first kick.

I thought for sure it wouldn't.

"When you put it all back together right, that's what it's supposed to do", my step-father said.

The year was 1984. I had just graduated high school.  He had just put his beloved 1948 Harley-Davidson FL back together, and I was really amazed it started up on the first crank.

Earlier in that year, my step-father had finally gotten serious about putting it back together. He had been up late into the evenings and sometimes early mornings, cleaning, scrubbing, painting, and bolting together a motorcycle that had been taken apart down to the smallest piece and stored away into crates, boxes, and coffee cans.

He originally got it in the early 1970s.  It had actually been his only means of transportation during his college days in New Mexico. It probaby started in 1968 with a motor he found at a junk yard. He would work, save his money, and either go back to the junk yard or send away for parts he couldn't find anywhere else. A couple years later, he had himself a completely restored bike.

Soon after, he enlisted in the Navy, and put his FL into storage at his grandparents house in Rifle.

I remember the day he brought it back home.

It all started in the the Summer of 1975. My mother had met him in a bar in San Diego. One evening, she came home from work and told me she and I would be taking a trip to Colorado in just a few weeks. She said she met a guy who planned to drive to Colorado in his van to retrieve his old motorcycle. We spent a few days driving there, and a few days driving back.  I was just nine years old at the time.

When we brought the bike back to San Diego, he moved in with my mom and I. I used to watch him take the bike apart piece by piece. His plan was to clean it all up, repaint it, and put it back together.

Nine years later, it finally happened.

For much of that time, however, he hardly worked on it.  He'd have moments of cleaning the carburetor and trying to hammer a front rim back into a perfect circle.  And I always there to watch and ask questions.  I used to pester him and bug him and ask if I could help.  Most of the time, he didn't want me messing around with it.

Along the way, I gained a half-brother.

There were times when I grew really angry at my mom and real father.  Each of them had remarried to different people and gave birth to new sons.  I felt replaced, abandoned, and unwanted.  I became so resentful inside, I found it difficult to make friends.  I spent my junior high and high school years alone.

But my step-father did buy me a used 1979 Kawasaki KZ400 for $50.00 as a high school graduation present. It was third-hand, recently wrecked, and not running.  It wouldn't be another year, however, until we took that bike apart and put it back together.

What really impressed me the most about him, however, is that he remembered where each and every nut, bolt and washer belonged on his Harley, even after all those years of being in storage.  I mean, they weren't even labeled, nor did he bother to keep nuts, bolts, and washers connected together.  It was a testament to a rider's intimate knowledge of his own bike.

He spent probably the next year riding that old FL. He'd take it to work and take it out to bars. The last night he rode it he was drunk off his ass. He had come back home from a bar with a buddy. The two of them wanted to continue riding down Ortega Highway (state route 74). My mom begged him to not go, and he finally relented and stayed home. I don't remember him riding the bike after that.

Maybe a few months later, he sold it for $4,500.00 cash.  I think he was pissed at my mom.  She was never supportive of him riding.

By that time, we had rebuilt my KZ400 and I was riding it to college and work. I'd take it out at nights and pick up chicks. It was my only means of transportation as well.

The truth is that my step-father and I never had a close relationship. He was far more close to his son than I. But he did leave a permanent mark on me with respect to motorcycling. Somehow, growing up feeling alone and replaced created a bond with my motorcycle that I can't quite put into words.  I wish I still had my KZ400.

My half-brother posing on the Harley

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How to Fight a Helmet Ticket in California

Richard Quigley

Roughly seven years ago, one of the more well-respected figures in California motorcycle rights organizations died. Richard Quigley is not a name the average motorcycle rider knows about, but if you've spent a lot of time championing the rights of motorcycle riders, you've certainly heard of him.

Quigley established the group known as "Cal BOLT" (California Bikers of Lesser Tolerance).  He was known for fighting the helmet law...

In 1999, he decided to start riding his motorcycle wearing a trucker's cap, instead of the typical head gear other riders tend to wear. Between the years 1999 to 2006, he had been stopped over 100 times by police, cited only 34 times for helmet law violations, and managed to get 25 of those citations dismissed or declared unconstitutional. 

Each time he was stopped, he turned on his pocket tape recorder and then proceeded to interrogate the officer's understanding of the helmet law and what a "DOT Helmet" actually is. His intricate knowledge of the helmet law and how the DOT is involved with helmets, along with these tape recordings, is how he managed to get so many tickets overturned.

Before he died, he left behind a wealth of information on how to fight a ticket for not wearing a "DOT helmet".

He pointed out the flaws in California's "safety helmet" law and how riders could exploit it to win their case in court.

As it turns out, California Vehicle Code 28702 establishes safety requirements for motorcycle helmets.  However, it doesn't actually require helmets to meet the safety standards of the federal Department of Transportation.  It only says that manufacturers must certify that their helmets meet the DOT safety standards.  If anything, the law requires that these helmets be labeled as compliant (DOT sticker).

The law also requires that the helmet have some kind of strap to secure the helmet on.  It doesn't say that it has to be a chin strap.  Just a strap.

The California Highway Patrol also says it's legal to manufacture your own helmet.

The court system has also ruled that helmet law violations are "fix it tickets", and you cannot be fined.  Which is how Quigley got many of his tickets thrown out.

So, Quigley used to ride with a truckers cap with the letters "DOT" sewn into the back.  The cap had a strap that tightened around the head, just like any other cap.  Quigley argued that his cap was tested against the DOT standards, and was found to comply, because that's all that needed to comply (just your word).

You can read the full details on how to beat a helmet ticket in California at this page...

http://www.boltofca.com/LegalDetails.html

I point this out because a guy like Quigley went through a lot of trouble and hassel by the Man just to give the rest of us motorcycle riders some ammunition when getting hasseled ourselves.  Even at his funeral, at least one motorcycle officer came by to pay his respects to a man who knew the law so intricately and had the guts to take a stand.

What Quigley left behind works only when a cop is citing your helmet as not being "DOT".  It doesn't work if you've been cited for not wearing any kind of hear gear at all.

The truth is that most of us don't want to spend the time fighting a helmet citation.  We don't want to break out tape recorders and argue at length with a cop about the helmet law.  We'd just rather pay the ticket and be done with it, and that's what local governments want you to do also.

But maybe you'll find yourself with the time to fight it in court, and will want to have all that ammunition with you.  That's what Cal BOLT is dedicated to helping you with.

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