I went on a Tuesday night at around 9PM. There was a DJ set up spinning LP’s for a 65 year old hard-of-hearing-over-weight white guy who was counting out $4.50 for his beer in quarters and nickels, a bar fly who looked like she just got off her shift and me (a total of 5 with the bar tender and DJ).  The brewers were on the cusp of going into OT but the music was decent (something gravely and country but I didn’t recognize it) and the volume was appropriate for the 5 of us.

I got the last order in for the night and the bartender Theresa was nice enough to recommend the Mac-N-Cheese as a side dish. I always go with recommendations that are a win-win for me (one time I went with a recommendation from a guy living in a trailer outside of a pig farm…that didn’t go so well) and I do love a good mac-n-cheese.

The menu is simple, not a lot of elaborate combinations or overly didactic descriptions (see link above for menu). Here’s my issue and its only mine, everything is under $10, but I would be okay paying $20 if they offered a combo platter with the three (3) basic meats (brisket, pork shoulder and ribs). Just so I could try them all with out having to order three different meals. Its a good way to get a sampling of the work they do. Its not an offer so I went with what I know to be a good gauge of a smoke joint (not amsterdam style but memphis style). No wedge salad thank god. Tator Tots are on the menu, I didn’t get them but I was tempted – please if you go and get the tator tot’s, send us an email and tell us how they were.

I ordered the 1/2 slab of ribs for $9.95.  Which is cheap for a 1/2 slab.  I ordered them dry but there are three sauces, a traditional bbq sauce, hot/spicy bbq and a Carolina mustard.  I went with the last two on the side. I like to get my first bite of the meat as it was meant to be tasted by the chef/pit boss, not masked.

A prompt meal came out with wedge fries, the aforementioned mac-n-cheese and the 1/2 slab of baby backs.  I was hesitant, real ribs are St. Louis or spare ribs. But hey this is Wisconsin so you have to sell what you can make money on in your market. Most people who are rib eaters want the baby back.  Oh I should mention the population in the bar doubled while I waited, a nice young girl reminiscent of the slick 50′s era pinup,  a biker couple tipping the scales at a combined 475, less one old man paying with lose change, and plus one midlife heavy set beer belly bandit type…and me (10 total with bar tender & DJ)

My first bite of the ribs was good, it was a little mushy in the mouth but not totally with out texture.  It was fall off the bone which I don’t really like, it means that they cook it to that point with out paying much attention to the detail of when it really should be done.  Sometimes ribs do just gets overcooked (especially when re-heated) so not a big deal. The smoke was present but not strong, the spicing on the ribs was really subtle.  They didn’t take the back skin off the ribs though and to me that’s amateur hour – my big complaint. The reason its so crucial is A) it makes like a plastic film on the ribs that’s hard to tear through and B) its something you have to fight when eating and it detracts from the meat.

I tried the spicy BBQ sauce and it tasted generic – out of the bottle. I’m sure it was concocted from scratch but it wasn’t amazing-write-home-to-mom good. The second sauce the carolina mustard…wow, that was amazing. That I would have had on a salad  - and per the bartender, is also an option with chicken pieces if you know her and she orders it special for you (not on the menu).  The meat was decent, for $10 it was great, if it was a $14 slab it would have been less than average, if it were competition I don’t think I’d put it in the top 10 with out the slathering of the carolina sauce.

Let’s talk Mac-n-Cheese, I’ve pontificated about the cheesey pasta before so I’ll be brief. It was like store bought kid mac-n-cheese but I don’t say that in a negative way. It wasn’t trying to be something it wasn’t (like Lisa Kudrow, play the ditzy blonde that what we expect).  It wasn’t advertised as gourmet mac-n-cheese.  Wait sorry, we have to go back to Lisa Kudrow…I don’t celebrate her career so that could be totally off base but I’m the author so I get to write what I want (regardless if its only 4 people reading this).  Back to the mac-n-cheese, so its elbow macaroni with cheesy sauce and its addicting. I ate all of it, it brought me back to being at home as a kid but not kraft cheese-and-macaroni crap but rather basic homemade that your mom would make for you, good but not elaborate.  So there, all the foodie crap in the world and it all comes down to – average mac-n-cheese sold as average mac-n-cheese is pretty amazing.

The rest of the experience was good, the brewer’s went into OT and beat the dodgers in the 10th. The bar never really picked up but there was enough shenanigans going on to watch and keep me entertained (a pirate hook and sword came out at one point with hat and eye patch) and I went home only $25 in the hole and my bill was only $15 – bar tenders that recommend good sides and give you a free beer get well rewarded.

Much love to Lo Cash Live – its not my favorite but for what it is, that’s what you get.

Let’s talk sides for a second so we can get that out of the way and get to the main course.

We had Mac-N-Cheese. I crave a good mac-n-cheese, like junkies crave crack (is crack still a drug, I feel like now its more just a joke). I look for that smokey cheddar and crunchy crust. Smoke Shack has a good flavor mac-n-cheese, its more adult then a kiddie mac-n-cheese but it’s not their core competency. They have 3 or 4 cheeses to it. But it tasted more like an Alfredo with a little jack cheese added. It needed some crunch like a quick crumb topping and a little spice. I dumped some black pepper on it and that really did the job. Noodles were just a little over el dente.

Collards…I love collards. I like ham hocks and vinegar with my collards. I wish that’s what they served. It’s collards, but it’s too vinegar and sugary. Apparently its for the vegan, gluten free, all organic crowd. I appreciate diversity and getting to everyone’s needs dietary wise. But it’s the frickin smoke shack not the new age all organic, gluten free, sugar free, low carbon emissions, no balls, granola shack. Come on guys, you’ve got a salad on the menu. Go back to the roots of what collards are supposed to be and get them with the ham hocks or at least as an option. What good is a pork knuckle if you can’t cook perfectly healthy greens in its savory fat and juices. Might as well be a salad wedge (don’t get me started on the wedge…)

Damn it now I have to pontificate on the wedge. Okay the wedge is the restaurants way of saying “your too dumb to know we aren’t going to put any effort into this salad but we’ll call it a wedge and charge you $6.25 for it but its really just a 1/4 of iceberg (0.99 at the grocery store) and you have to do all the work.” I hate the wedge its just insulting. I don’t want to be a lettuce racist, but I think if you order a wedge salad there’s a good chance your a douche bag. Sorry.

Cornbread it’s good, it’s sweet, it’s not a traditional dense corn bread but I really liked it. It was like dessert on my plate.

The main event.

My first complaint is that the menu offers a combo plate but not in a traditional sense. It is four (4) meats of sausage, chicken, pulled pork and brisket. Here’s my problem, a traditional four meat (as in a competition BBQ four meat) is Chicken, Pulled Pork, Brisket and Ribs. That’s what I wanted to order. It is what it is though, I guess you could always ask for a substitute. Oh and I would charge more if you offered it with ribs, like $27 would feel about right…something to consider.

Just a quick preface. I’m a smoking meats competitor, a KCBS judge and I’ve won awards for my meat. That doesn’t give me any authority over smoking meat, just a reference from my competitors and my own tastes. I’m not a big deal, I don’t own or run a restuarant and I might be an asshole (according to some). So keep that in mind when you read critics in general. This is really good BBQ.

Let’s talk Ribs. They offer three (3) different kinds. Spare, Baby Back, and Short. Here’s the thing Midwest folks, true ribs are Spare Ribs or St. louis style. Baby back are for amateurs and back yard cooks who want it fall off the bone. The Spare ribs are the true smokers meat. Smoke Shack’s spare ribs were great! Good smoke, nice subtle dry rub and the bite was perfect. Off the bone with a nice tenderness and the meat stayed on the bone as the bone turned from grey to white. That’s perfection. I would have liked a little more kick but that’s personal preference and the Shack is trying to appeal to a mass crowd which I appreciate. They come out dry (no sauce) and they offer 4 sauces. All 4 are good, but the texas and the carolina mustard were top notch. Excellent ribs.

Pork shoulder comes to you as a big portion. Pork shoulder is one of those things that when you nail your recipe you never change it. If you love your recipe, then you love your pork shoulder. It’s like a child, you love it that much, but it won’t puke on you, poop on you, bite you, hit you or cost you more then 3.99 per pound. These guys are putting out a decent shoulder. Good bark on it, good smoke flavor, nice strands of pork. I would have liked to have gotten a little combo of the mighty muscle (a close to the bone almost conical shaped muscle that can be cut cross grain like a disc), some strand meat and a little of the darker meat. Here’s my very mild and small criticism – it needed some spice, a little heat. As it sat alone on the plate it was gorgeous and inviting. Warning I’m about to use the word moist…I know some of you hate that word. Why is that? Does it remind you of something fungal and growing between your toes (now I’ve really set the mood)? The pork pile-on was moist, just a little greasy which is perfect, good smoke flavor and a good ratio of “bark” added to the plate. My only complaint was I wish they offered a bottle of shake with the sauces. Shake being their dry rub in a shaker bottle so you can add a little more salt, spice and sweet as you need.

We talked to the owner afterward and told him most of this. He said something I expected and something the Gizznat had eluded to earlier. They’re selling a dinning experience not just smoked meat. It was a great experience, damn good meat, pretty good sides.

Oh the decor, it is a shack in its ambiance. If that shack was designed by an interior decorator from New York with an eye on attention to details and a $100,000 budget. It’s too perfect of a shack, which is amazing in that they can pull off a shack feel that is also spotlessly clean, charming and the lights turned down to the perfect temperature. I look good in that low lighting…you can’t see all the sauce dripping on my chin then on to my shirt and the greasy sheen of my cheeks after washing my face in pig fat! Mmm…delicious pig fat. Anyway, the rusted tin panels look dingy and dirty and shack like but they’re precise lines, clean and well designed. The corrugated galvanized sheet steel with hex heads holding them to the wall is the type of attention to detail you wouldn’t be expecting but its there. I liked the big chunky coat rack along the hall to the kitchen, although not practical considering the waiters were dragging out huge serving trays of meat and any coat in the vicinity had the potential for a drive by saucing. I liked the bar, it wasn’t extrordinary but functional and the decor holding the liquor display was very cool. A cross wire hatching with steel shelves. Simple yet “shack-cool” you could see motor oil easily replacing the Knob Creek.

They have the coolest reservation system I’ve ever seen. They took my name and phone number entered into a tablet (Ipad I think). Then I got a text with my wait status. I could see how many parties were in front of me and when we decided to saddle up to the bar instead of waiting for a table I text the hostess and took our name off the list. Ultra cool tech. Granted I think I sold my personal info for sweet swine meat but I’m okay with that.

Ribs – It’s missing smoke, its missing flavor and its missing texture. The ribs are fall off the bone (which is not good) mushy meat. It should be a little firm on the bone. I didn’t taste any specific dry rub so they were bland with out the sauce.  The sauce was good, not great.

The pulled pork is really bland. Its good pork, a good quality of meat but no flavor. Very little smoke flavor or smell. No dry rub, no bark and it was dry.  It was okay when slathered in sauce and after I added my own hot sauce to it. No character.

The Chicken is really dry. I can’t even comment any more on it. It was inedible. I thought about shredding it and throwing it in a tortilla soup but I didn’t want it to ruin the tomatoes & jalapenos.

Brisket is hard to serve in general it dries out fast after cutting, which is fine. But there’s not enough flavor of smoke in the brisket. I expected it to be dry, you can usually rehydrate it a little in a pan with some beef stock. But the first bite had no real, flavor. No garlic, onion, black pepper. It was just dry beef chest.

Sausage was awful, mealy with little flavor. No onion, garlic, spice.  The smoke was just about the only thing it had.

They had something else in the dish. It was some sort of mystery chopped meat. I couldn’t tell what it was really. It was over sauced and lacked texture.

I wouldn’t eat there again but that’s not to say its bad, there’s just so many other places to try I wouldn’t put this on my list of repeats.

Across town I was running late for any number of various tasks. I was
wrestling with a leather jacket and the weather. The other guys were
already on their Harley’s and spitting oil and exhaust waiting for me
to get going. We saddled up and took off for lunch. The ride was
cool, the day was overcast gray, and the cadence of pistons and road
was perfect. The sun was lost behind the haze of atmosphere but the
bike in its extreme vivid black so dark as to be bright in the
reflections and eye grabbing that it had the affect of rays of
sunshine beaming through the black.

Breakfast or lunch, the time of day confused the distinction between
the two, was spent with two cops asking questions that made him
squirm. Wanting to tell the truth but knowing what it would lead too. He
stopped talking, put up the front he had done so many times before,
part humble idiot part bad guy. He just nodded and acted aloof and
stupid to all of the inferences they were leading. They knew he did
it, he knew he did it and it was just a matter of time before the two
ends of that rope were unknotted and found to be the same piece. He
shut down and the cops, almost as uncomfortable as he, realized there
was no moving forward and just the continuous acrid eye burning
cigarette smoke, rotting garbage, bad coffee and questionable odors to
contend with.

I ran the meeting of overpaid executives with all the comfort and ease
of talking to my friends about fishing. The meeting participants
listened, asked questions, and accepted my point of view. Their minds
already made up, a decision without making a decision. Postpone,
filibuster, stall till the answer makes itself clear. Not all together
an abnormal day for me. I kept on with the task knowing the decision
wouldn’t render my future much different then the days past.

He sat on his dilapidated couch smoking cigarettes that tasted
terrible drinking cold coffee thinking about how he was going to get
out of what he did. The end was as bleak as his beginning. His
destiny never seemed very bright and this was reinforced every day of
his life. Everyone saw him as a thug; every one treated him as a burden on
society. It was as if no one bothered to ever see a future in him, a
dream, a life outside of the shit filled life he was executing. His
life reflected this. He looked around his apartment from the couch
his legs propped up on the coffee table covered in ash, beer bottles,
magazines, and scraps of a disorganized life strewn about. It all
looked the temporary life he kept. His squalid surroundings were
nothing he needed, nothing he couldn’t walk away from forever. Carpet
that looked like a tar truck had driven over it before it was
installed. Walls gray with the residue of the last 40 years of other
temporary people, the stink of his neighbors, the hollow walls that
seemed to amplify sound rather then deaden them. It was staged to be
desolate for the desolate with out him even trying.

After the meeting was done I gathered up my notes, took my accolades
from peers and executives. Glowed in their praise and enjoyed the day.
I walked down to the garage and threw a leg over the bike. The seat
felt firm, the leather felt comforting, a steady beat of the iron
underneath me felt strong and I was eager and ready to grab a handful
of throttle and lean into the corners of the garage and set off a few
car alarms with the exhaust tones. My riding partner’s 1976 Pan Head
next to me rumbled to life and clanged as it went into gear. We
decided on a route home, not the highway the back way. We’d burn the
streets and make a short trip a long ride back to the office. A cool
breezed swirled through the parking garage it felt good on my face,
refreshing and cool.

He put down the cigarette, went to the back of the apartment his
sticky putrid colored linoleum felt to hang on his socks trying to
slow him or stop him. Kneeling down to eye level with the off white
and gold sparkled counter top he opened one of the cupboards and
removed the never used baking pan to reveal the bottom of the
cupboard. He pried up the floor of the cabinet at the base. Took out
the steel black pistol, felt the weight in his hands. Looked at the
other miscellaneous contraband in the hiding place all reminders of
the decisions he’d made these things for a brief moment made him feel
powerful and then as quickly desperate to get away from them. Pulling
the chamber open he looked in the bridge, loaded, full magazine.

I wound my way down five floors of parking garage, enjoying the hard
right sweeping turns and the concrete walls amplifying and resonating
the engine exhaust off of the walls causing them to double in sound
and affect. Dave’s pan head set off a car alarm with the straight
pipes and we gleamed with deviant smiles and tried to get more car
alarms to ring. We were suddenly little boys with big toys. We made
it down three flights of cars before having to stop and wait for the
other traffic waiting to exit. We shouted over the exhaust about the
car alarms and laughed. I fumbled with gloves and wallet to get ready
to pay the parking attendant while balancing the bike between my legs.

He pulled a blue hoody sweatshirt over his long white t-shirt. He
laced up his boots, grabbed his back pack, cell phones, wallet, lastly
the gun. He held it in his hand looking at it sideways. He marveled at
the calling it had on him, how it’s engineering and precise lines
beckoned him. It was alluring it was a siren sitting on a rock singing
him into the break waters. He hid it in the pouch of his sweat shirt
gripping it and feeling secure in its presence. It had become an
entity, a voice with out speaking.

He shook his head and exited the apartment like it was any other day.
The day was particularly bleak, gray, and windy with the leaves dried
and blowing like confetti. He sighed, tried to push down that feeling
of dread in his gut. Those fear that the phone ringing, the knock on
the door, the steps in the hall would be the police or worse coming to
find him. The dread of his life made him wonder why he bothered at
all. Others like him seemed to be able to brush off the fear with out
any hesitation. His ate at him. Haunted him, he tossed at night, he
dreaded the day, he hadn’t slept in what felt like his whole life. He
couldn’t remember the last time he remembered going to sleep with out
feeling hopeless and waking up comforted and rested. Sleep was a
nightmare, awake was hell.

We took way too long getting out of the parking garage. The cashier
couldn’t run two parking tickets at once she had to run each
separately, we laughed at the simplicity and complexity of the task.
The other two riders had left before us, we waited for the Cadillac to
clear the left turn and pedestrian traffic to walk by. We jumped out
of the garage, tires hitting the black pavement, gripping it hard and
pulling us left, we were in synchronicity in function and motion. Fuel
and air meeting and burning we let the motors do what they knew best,
propel us forward. We shut down a car coming up the block and slipped
out in front of it with room to spare, the thrill of being on two
wheels and pulling mild risk like this made the ride exhilarating. We
rumbled on turning left at the end of the block, watching traffic and
people as we waited for the line of cars passing us. We sped down the
block, the clean sidewalks, the hustle of four o’clock people going
here and there made the down town see important and electric. The
haze of the day seemed to brighten, it didn’t but it seemed too. We
came up behind a bus and slipped into a free lane to buzz around. We
grabbed an opening and slipped around the bus and took a hard right.

He stepped down the stairs, one after the other each weighing foot
step heavy on the steps. His mouth was dry he was twitchy and nervous.
His anticipation of what was next was sickening. He hadn’t eaten but
he had no hunger, his mouth dry, it tasted metallic, bad like nothing
would ever taste normal again. He licked his lips, they were dry and
bitter with the acrid remains of a cigarette. He hit the pavement and
started walking north. Cars raced by all going somewhere, all
seemingly infinitely more important and relevant then him.

We rounded the corner and finally got a chance to stretch the engines
RPM’s the tiniest bit before hitting another stop light. We chatted
at the light, nothing in particular, the stench of the bikes, the
slowness of traffic it was meaningless and light. We were smiling and
enjoying the gray of the day in an unusual way.

The bus stop was ahead, it looked like any other bus stop, like boring
dullness. He hated waiting for the bus; he hated having to sit there
in the glass enclosure. It felt like all the cars were driving by
looking at him in an aquarium, judging him, making decision on who he
was. They didn’t know him, they didn’t know what he liked what he
thought about what his dreams were and no one ever asked or ever
cared.

We stopped at the intersection; it was an ill conceived light timing.
Green ahead, red where we were, we would race to try to get the yellow
at the next intersection but it was just a game, we knew we wouldn’t
make it but we would try. Like a game of sprints but with 80 pounds of
torque. The light went green. We rolled our wrists and machines pulled
ahead pulling us at our arms as the bikes forward motion tried to
leave us behind.

He came to the bus stop, felt the now warm grip of the pistol in his
hands. The weight of the gun satisfying in his hands, his finger
running up and down the straight machined lines of the trigger, his
confidence. He sat down on the far end of the bus bench and watched a
young girl walk by with out looking at him. He felt dread, he felt
hopeless, he felt empty.

We raced to the second light and hit the red light and came to a
planned but abrupt halt. I looked left a green mini van just behind my
rear tire. I watched north bound traffic start to come away from the
light. I saw a girl walk past the bus stop. I saw a man sitting there
in a blue hoody. I watched traffic I sat waiting for the light. I
watched nothingness; I watched molecules bounce around and act like
life, saw the chaos and order of people going here and there, felt joy
in the motion.

The entity of the gun seemed to pull itself out of his sweatshirt.
The gun was there it was looking at him, it was singing its siren
song. It looked like an answer, it smelled like oil and steel. He
was suddenly feeling light, calm, at ease. He felt remorse, he felt
weak, he felt strong, and he could feel.

I heard it first, the distinct pop of the gun. I had heard it before
at the firing range the distinct sound of a center fire bullet in a
short barrel. I watched as the bus stop glass turned into a million
pieces of fragmented glass. A large distinct hole in the upper center
of the glass the only clear part amongst the shards that made the
glass look like webbing. I saw the red on the glass. I saw the man
in the sweatshirt turn read and fall against the glass and slide to
the ground like he instantly had lost all control of his muscle. I saw
the girl turn around look behind her and then take off in a dead
sprint. I gasped for air, the light turned green and the reaction in
me went wild with gas and air as I left the starting line of the light
and moved as fast as I could away.

I didn’t stop or slow till I had too. Blocks later I came to another
light and I shouted with shaking voice “Dave did you see that?” he
looked at me blankly he heard the shot, he didn’t see anything.

“Dave that guy in the bus stop just got shot in the head and I saw it.
What the fuck was that? Seriously Dave I think I just saw a man die.”
He shrugged and we moved on. I was gripping the handle bars as hard as
I could, I was cool and sweating. I was anxious and nervous. I kept
turning over the image in my mind. I kept asking questions, kept
holding on to that feeling. Wondering why I felt numb and hot and
electric all at the same time. I could feel blood rushing through my
toes. We rode in silence till we went our separate ways.

I went home, I kissed my wife, I hugged my baby. I told her what I
saw, I described it in every detail, and I left out nothing. I spoke
of the green van, the bus stop glass, the girl walking away, the man
in the dark blue sweat shirt, the million piece of glass, the clear
punched out perfect circle in the upper center of the glass, I spoke
of the gray sky, the cool breeze the blackness of the bike, the sound
of the throttle everything but the blood in my toes.

I watched the new, I never watch the news, I don’t like hearing about
the war on the ground, and I don’t like the sensationalism of
violence, crime, hate, death. It’s too much for me to learn and then
to look at my daughter and smile. I watched every detail of the news
nothing, no mention of a shooting, no mention of any disturbance. No
mention of the man in the blue sweatshirt. Had no one missed him, had
he not left any mark on this earth? For weeks I checked the newspaper,
the internet. No report of a man dying, no report of a shooting. I
must not have seen what I thought I saw. Maybe the glass was always
broken. Maybe the girl ran because she was late, maybe the guy
slumped because he fell asleep, maybe the sound was just a backfire of
a car.

Two weeks went by and I couldn’t shake the image. I became obsessed
with proving what I saw. I felt like a crazy man wondering why I was
the only one that saw it. Finally I called the Police, I hesitated I
didn’t want to come forward with details but no one else had and I
mostly just wanted to know. I asked about a shooting. There was a
shooting; a suspect was found at the scene with a gun in hand.
Another call to a Police officer revealed the truth.

He died by himself, in a bus stop shelter, on gray day in October, on
a Wednesday at 430PM. I sat at a light bathed in the gray of the day.
I saw him take his life. He was surrounded by hundreds of people and
died alone.

I hate it when I call someone on the phone and they actually answer the call. I would rather leave a message then talk to them. There are people that I know that WILL answer when I call – and so I won’t call them. Or I’ll wait till I know they won’t answer, like at 4AM.

Digital cameras, although awesome, have taken out the exclusivity of photographs. It used to cost money to buy film and develop pictures so you were careful and picked your photo’s carefully…Now I’ll take 40 pictures of my family to get one good one and then delete all of them except the one.

How did the word avatar ever come about? I’m afraid of that word, and tweeting. Tweeting is not a bird call any longer, that was an embarrassing discovery.

I remember my mom moving me away from people walking down the street talking to themselves and hand motioning in a crazy fashion – they were normally the clinically insane or really high. Today I just assume that someone is talking on a phone with some sort of wireless device. One day that’s going to be a very bad mistake for me when someone I think is talking on the phone tries to eat my face because I look like a mushroom….yes I sometimes think I look like a delicious mushroom.

I think the reason that people love TV so much as opposed to the reality that’s going on in front of them is that it’s sort of like a time machine. One second your in a hospital ward making funny jokes, turn the channel and suddenly your running for a touch down. It’s that instantaneous “I’m somewhere other then here” sort of feeling. When I’m at a bar and the TV is on, I’ll watch TV. Its a bar interesting characters, lots of movement, good conversation, beer, and I’m watching TV because its somewhere where I can’t be. Maybe a teletransporter is a better description.

I actually had to use imdb.com to help me with this one. But as it turns out it’s a short few jumps

Elvis Presley was in Blue Hawaii with none other then Angela Lansbury, who was in Murder She Wrote for about a hundred years. Adam West did one of the Murder She Wrote episodes and was Batman in the original Caped Crusader TV shows. Who else was a show stopper on Batman none other then the Green Lantern AKA Bruce Lee.

So now, how do we get Kevin Bacon into the mix?

Elvis was in Speedway with Nancy Sinatra who was in Wild Angels with Peter Fonda. Peter Fonda was in Easy Rider with Dennis Hopper who was in Apocalypse Now with Martin Sheen who was in Wall Street with Charlie Sheen. Brothers Charlie Sheen and Emilio Estevez did Men At Work (some of there best stuff). Emilio Estevez was in St. Elmos Fire with Demin Moore who was in A Few Good Men with Kevin Bacon.

Bruce Lee fought Chuck Norris in Return of the Dragon. Bruce Lee and David Caradine worked together in Lone Wolf McQuade. David Caradine who now lies 6′ feet under was in Kill Bill with Uma Thurman who was in Pulp Fiction with Bruce Willis. Bruce Willis worked with Brad Pitt in 12 Monkeys (who can forget that) and of course Brad was in the Mexican, Oceans 11, 12, and 13 with Julia Roberts who was in Flatliners with none other then Kevin Bacon.

Feel free to mix an match as you like. See a better jump from Bruce Lee to Elvis Presley with Kevin Bacon in the mix. Send it to me.

Believe me Mark Hamil to Patrick Swayze took me a while. Here’s a few directions that I took this (with some help).

Mark Hamil was in “Star Wars” with Harrison Ford (the only one to have an active career afterwards) was in “Apocalypse Now” with Martin Sheen who was in “Wall Street” with Charlie Sheen who was in “Red Dawn” with Patrick Swayze.

If you want Demi Moore in the mix, you need to go from Charlie Sheen who was in “men at work” with Emilio Estevez who was in “St Elmo’s Fire” with Demi Moore who was in “ghost” with Patrick Swayze.

Richard Dreyfus and Demi Moore: Harrison Ford was in “american grafitti” with Richard Dreyfus who was in “stand by me” with Keifer Sutherland who was in “a few good men” with Demi Moore who was in “ghost” with Swayze.

Harrison Ford was in Mosquito Coast and Indiana Jones with River Phoenix
River Phoenix was in My Own Private Idaho with Keanu Reaves
Keanu Reaves was in Point Break with Patrick Swayze

A few weeks back I needed a new garage door opener. I went to Lowe’s -there it was in its beautiful shining glory. For $175 it would be mine. But wait, due to technology they had the same thing at Home Depot. So I asked the cashier lady if I could have a discount instead of going to Home Depot I would buy it for 10% less at Lowe’s. She called the Mill Department who said no.

I left and went to the Home Depot, same exact garage door opener – same price. I went up to the cashier, and asked him…Can I have 10% off since Lowe’s has the same thing. He said yes, rang it up and I left the store happier then I’ve been with a big box chain in a very long time.

Well Home Depot, congratulations, you are my one and only home improvement center. Not only did the cashier not have to call anyone and make me stand around waiting, but they gave me 10% off for asking.

Now I buy everything I can from Home Depot and Ace Hardware (I still love the feeling of an Ace Hardware).

Coffee – You can buy Pike’s Place for $9.99 a pound, or African Sawali blend for $16.99 at Starbucks, but I didn’t see any free-trade coffee. Alterra on the other hand, has Free Trade, Shade Grown Guatemalan for $11.00 a pound. New coffee provider = Alterra.

And that’s that.

TearDown….

This is how it looked when I got started. Removed carbs for cleaning/re-build, pulled engine to adjust valves , dissassembled frame for cleaning and check inside engine. Documented all parts I would need and began to Plan my attack with theme, color, and look. Thinking “euro-cafe” with an “american dirt track” feel for a theme-just a thought.

Everything came out very well, much easier than I expected and I really had no reason to afraid. When the bike is down to the frame like in these images, it’s really easy to imagine what the final look could be. Imagination is the only barrier and my imagination is running wild-yahoo! This will hopefully be really cool and it will be mine!

More to come.

Late