AmySueSporty- Moto Blog

The rear fender has a huge scrape down to the metal, dent and horrible repaint job, to save from rust.  Like it matters.  It's been running for exactly 3 days.  I wasn't extremely happy with the way the re-pop fender painted up anyway, so when I took the newly named, 1976 Ironhead Sportster , The Breeze, on her shakedown ride, and the sissy bar,  seated in the brackets I had picked up at a swap meet last fall- for a great price AND a great conversation, popped out and I heard a dreaded SSSCCCRRRRRRRRRAAATTCCCHHHHHHHH CHING CHING..... Finally hit dirt  I was mostly upset about the sissy bar itself. It was a heartfelt gift from a very caring and thoughtful boss.  A gift that had sat on a shelf for 30 + years with layers of dust, and was perfect. Flawless and pristine... And I just drug it 5 feet down a shit paved gravel road. Gosh, fricking, darn it!!! (I'm working on my cursing) This wasn't the first thing. This was a careless mistake, the sissy bar was

I believe that all people are equal.  I'm a huge believer in the fact that we all have a similar skeleton beneath our skin, no matter what extremities we bear, what hair color we have, what our muscle tone is... We're all human. And we are all destined for one thing. One day, we will die.  Other than that- there is no definite answer, no absolute course.. its how you get to the end that makes life worth living.. you dig? So when it comes to the blatant ignorance, and disregard of someone, like me, as another equal human- it baffles me.  My brain doesn't work that way.  Whether you are female or male, young or old, I believe you can do what you want, and when you want, and whatever it is, you can do it well, or do it terribly- you can love or hate doing it, but why can't you do it?  And if you need assistance, you'll ask for it like any normal human being- NOT a silly sally stumbling around in the dark fidgeting until they find the hole.. rite?  One of the only thi

It was by complete happenstance we even met.  Blew into my life, and out just as quickly.  The man I came to call my best friend, accomplice, partner in crime, riding companion, brother, the breeze- Banksey. One hot summer day, about 8 or so years ago- I was working at Catalpa Grove in Toulon.  Small town, even smaller bar.  It was the size of a trailer, with a bar down one side, two high top tables taking up the entirety of the 'dining area', and a back room with a set of stairs right inside of it, so if you weren't paying attention or you were off your shit, you're going down 12 steps- hard.  There were 3 very well placed .45 holes in this bars walls, and ONLY the regulars knew where #1 and #2 were... and WHY.  This bar had history- you could smell it in the unfinished wood floors every night you mopped.  And the cow shit laden boots of the late afternoon crowd always helped to leave a hefty ring at the bottom of the mop bucket. Banksey at Catalpa Grove

I am a tom boy.  I was raised by hippies and an older brother who taught me how to shoot spit balls, wrench on shit and take shit apart.  I've always loved having guy friends, its a simple kind of friendship where you can make fun of each other and no ones feelings get hurt.  The kind of friends that would protect me like brothers, and listen to my girl advice with wrinkled brows- its so fun when guys try to understand a girls complex thought pattern.   I've always had guy friends.  My whole life, we skateboard together, go fishing, build shit, take shit apart.. the whole ensemble of guy related activities..  Occasionally, I run into a gal or two who have the same mind set as I do, and just want to be one of the 'guys'.  Its always been hard for me to be a girly type, aside from the love of shoes and makeup... I rarely find myself on common ground with the female persuasion.  I'm outspoken, brutally honest with no filter, but always mean well, and never get party dr

The camping scene was legendary in itself Let me start off this blog by giving you a little background about myself and my life as far as motorcycle culture goes.  I grew up in a two wheeled family.  My father, my uncle, their friends and families became my family.  Growing up in the 80's motorcycle scene gives you a certain expectation of life as a biker.  I was that little dirty barefoot kid running around the rally making people ask- Where is her mother?!  Watching burnout contests, slow races, spoon and egg races, packing as many riders on one chopper and making it to the finish line.  Everyone jumping in to help pick up your bike when you dumped it, was there to throw beer all over you when you won- this love of life was SO MUCH FUN- how could anyone do the biker scene any differently?  Brotherhood, laughs, beers and stories until the sun came up.  Now, I know that having expectations is just an open door to being disappointed.. so I should've expected it in the long r

So today I ran across an article entitled: "Why do hot girls brand themselves with neck tattoos?" An article about how it is impossible for him to find a hot girlfriend that doesn't have a tattoo on her neck... apparently. Hhmmmmm... 3 things stand out IMMEDIATELY in the title. 1; "hot girls" The author must be extremely educated to refer to women as 'girls' and HOT is just an enduring term we all love hearing.. educated as far as a college kid who's spending his daddies and mommies money to get his business degree because he will be a successful and rich 'business' man who wears 80,000$ suits and wipes his feet on hundos- he can't stand for his large breasted 'hot' wife to look 'trashy'- obviously.  He needs the trophy to reflect how well HE'S doing.  2; He calls it a brand. This tells me he's VERY materialistic, possessive, and vain.  Referring to a body that isn't even his, with disgust, having passed

Larry Hanna. Larry is a 75 year old man who lives in a small town near our dealership. Larry likes to drink hot chocolate and has been riding on two wheels since he was the young age of 15. Larry has logged over 43,000 miles for the year 2015. Larry lives a life less ordinary. Larry is the most interesting man in the world. This man is a legend in the eyes of many at our local Harley Dealership.  He comes in often, and shares his tales from his many adventures, and trips across the continent.  This past year of 2015: 42,380 miles all across our beautiful country, and a story after every trip. Sturgis celebrated it's 75th anniversary last year, and Since Larry was turning 75, and it was also Dairy Queen's 75th anniversary, he decided to ride his Harley Davidson Street 750 to South Dakota and partake in the festivities- including an ice cream cone at Dairy Queen! Not his first rodeo, by a long run. Larry has been to Sturgis numerous times, as well as taken every differ