Friday, May 25, 2012
I've been a prisoner for the last five weeks. Confined to my couch watching the complete series of "The Sopranos" and drinking so much coffee I've made the "favorite customer wall" at my local cafe. A separated shoulder is the pits! In week six I got the ok to remove the sling and start rehab. As soon as I felt better I persuaded my buddy with a promise that he have a short stack after our trip through the wrecking yards. In our last go around through what seemed like 100 degree weather and never ending astro vans I spotted a emblem I've never seen before. "Good Times Van, president". I've been racking my head, speed reading through my old Hot Rod mags, Van World and Vannin'. Searching for any information, a little clue on where the "Good Times Van" emblems might have come from. Were they a custom van shop in the 70's? An accessory given directly to customers when purchasing a custom van from a dealership? So I've decided "why not summons the power of GRAY SKULL?", in this case that would be the internet. So I leave you with the mystery of the "GOOD TIMES VAN" emblem and what little research I've come across...
Thursday, May 10, 2012
As the days count down and the hours get closer I reflect on a hazy campfire. A cooler full of beer, tri-tip, smoked salmon and eggs for breakfast and freshly ground coffee brewed over kingsford charcoal. Not really your conventional campsite menu but what's conventional about a three day long weekend filled with Kustom Vans and Choppers in the middle of the mountains? Born Free 3 was awesome! Friday consisted of checking in to our campsite and having a long discussion of whether or not we would run into a mountain lion and would we be sober enough to pull one another from it's grip? I quickly said no! That being said it notioned what kind of ride we were in for. Saturday morning was simple; breakfast, coffee, beer, Andrew's stash of Van books, beer and weed. Once we were pumped we made the haul to the show. Being floored by the level of craftsmanship and the quality of the bikes, we decided it would be a good idea to get drunk. So we did and when one a clock came along and the temperature rose into the 100's we collectively decided it had been a bad idea. Hence the drive back to the campsite. After for what seemed like a long detour back and the sun baking my brain through the windshield we pulled into the campsite. Shortly after that, what followed was one of the worst allergy attacks suffered by a human being (Jay Cruz). Saturday night was a blur but somewhere in between being asleep and being in Bob Dylan's 115th dream I heard someone scrambling to get into their tent. I heard the words "shit, shit, I can't get into my tent!" "shit, I'm getting scared!" At that point I realized..."hahaha awesome weekend!"