Deep within the cockles of a motorcyclist’s heart exists a mysterious vein, a vein with little known evolutionary function but a vein that plays a critical role in the development of a motorcycling Homo sapien. This vein, the dirt vein (from the Latin vena dirticus), is actually a small, glandular recording device that instantaneously increases the human heart rate upon sight, sound, or smell of a dirt bike. The growth of the dirt vein begins in early childhood, usually just after learning to ride a bicycle. It quickly doubles in size as the bicycling homo sapien transitions from sidewalk to dirt, in most cases a few months after the training wheels come off. The dirt vein reaches full maturity at the exact moment when the off-road bicycling Homo sapien encounters a motocross bike for the very first time. The knobby tires, the symphony of combustion, the aroma of exhaust; all stimuli cataloged in perfectly preserved format for the duration of its being. A truly remarkable organism, the fully matured dirt vein replays this encounter routinely during the lifespan of the motorcycling Homo sapien, in some documented cases well over 600,000 times.
Special thanks to Meatball and the Hell on Wheels MC for hosting another ridiculously fun event. Our dirt veins are throbbing.
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A two stroke love-in at the Deus Emporium of Postmodern Activities on on July 6th, 2013.
The parking lot at The Emporium of Postmodern Activities is, for the most part, a civilized place; an evolved tarmac where mannerly citizens maneuver their EPA compliant vehicles in an orderly, adult fashion. It’s a peaceful strip of asphalt. Sometimes, though, shit gets out of hand. Well, sort of. Not really. What we’re talking about here is Ring A Ding Ding, the two stroke love-in we threw last weekend that transformed our otherwise genteel back lot into an oil and gas breathing attack on the senses. Over fifty motorcycles were on display, each displaying their unique bits of personality when their owners started them up. The resulting choir of smoke and sound that filled the air was all too fitting for the Fourth of July weekend. Firing up a two-stroke motorcycle is like lighting fireworks. The crackle of the engine sounds like fireworks, the smoke pouring out of the exhaust looks like fireworks. The whole thing just feels like you’re breaking a bunch of rules, like it can blow up in your face at any moment. It’s that uneasiness you feel when you’re not quite sure if your neighbors are going to call the cops. It’s awesome.
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Bienvenue au salon Retromobile a Paris.
In collaboration with autosvantoen.nl we made a short overview of the most prestigious car salon's in Europe.
Made By XRXS
Visual interpretation by Rutger-Jan Cleiren
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