This is Ryuichi Kiyonari, a rider in the World Superbike Championship series. He’s 31 years young and his talent is out of this world. Watch and see for yourself.
Read the full article here.
Updated* Everything you need to know about the incident. View it here
Christopher Cruz speaks out. Watch it here
“This is my Tiger Lily. There are many like her, but this one is mine.”
I honestly never thought I’d end up buying a bike, let alone, build one. I always thought they were dangerous, but I guess my negative mentality towards bikes went out the window when I saw my uncle’s honda shadow. I think everyone in the group has him to thank for one reason or another. After all, we don’t call him our Prez for nuthin’! We have very similar styles and many of Tiger Lily’s mods have been influenced by him. So, this is my obligatory shout out to el Presidente, Young Khong.
I think my style is sort of unique to the group and is most likely why my bike looks like such an ugly sack of shit. But I like that kind of look. I call it the, “I don’t give a fuck” look. I wanted my bike to look like I actually ride it more than once a month. I’m a strong advocate against weekend warriors and bikes that are purely for show. All that shiny chrome and three stage paint jobs are against my religion. I like bikes that look like they’ve been through a war zone, hence my bike’s army theme.
YK was the one who got me to switch to the suicide shift. One day, I went riding with him after I got my bike, and I had to admit, it looked fucking badass! So, after only 3 months of riding under my belt, I switched to suicide shifting. Lol It was probably a really bad idea and I probably should have gained more experience before switching over, but I obviously didn’t give a fuck. I never really think things through and I’m not about to start now.
I love the reaction I get when people see the suicide shifter. People automatically think you’re a total badass. Either that, or a crazy SOB. Which I don’t mind being either. I don’t think it’s enough to have a gnarly looking bike. I think it should also be about the rider. If your bike looks badass, you gotta look like a badass too! Well, you don’t have to, but who doesn’t want to look like a bad ass?? All the guys in our group are pretty bad ass in their own way. I love how everyone has their own style and character.
What does my bike mean to me?
To put it simply, everything.
If I had to choose between my first born child and my bike, there would be no contest. I am only truly content when I’m riding. And it has to be on Tiger Lily. Riding other bikes is fun and all, but it’s just not the same. There’s nothing like feeling the wind against your body. Feeling the road underneath you. All that fresh fucking air. Sometimes, I’ll get a bug that unwelcomely flies into my helmet making me want to jump off my bike, but it’s a small price to pay.
I’ve met so many random people and had so many lovely conversations with strangers that ask about my bike. People I wouldn’t otherwise meet. I love meeting strangers and talking about motorcycles, and I love the looks I get when riding. My bike usually attracts old white dudes, but there’s a few dames that have told me I had a “cool” bike. That makes all the sweat and blood I put into my bike worth it. After all, the main reason I wanted to get a bike was to pick up chicks! Haven’t really been successful with that though..
I’m more of a lone wolf when it comes to riding, but nothing can describe the rush I get when riding in a group. Especially when there’s 20+ riders. We look like we are up to no good and that’s fucking awesome. I love when people stare and take pictures. As YK likes to describe it, “It sounds like a storm is comin’.”
It also means a lot to me that I customized this bike myself. Well, of course I had help from the guys, but I didn’t drop the bike off at some shop and have some guy do all the work, or bought it already built. That’s the thing about our group. Our motto is, “built not bought”. When we get new recruits, the guys are always eager to help, but your ass better be willing to learn and help out where you can.
Building a bike yourself adds to its sentimental value. I know if I ever end up selling Tiger Lily, a part of me with die inside. But until then, I’m gonna ride her to the ground.
– Redneck Brian.
Son Mai has been MIA recently since he went back to San Francisco for school and for weeks, Lnspltblvd has been neglected. Even though I hate writing crap, I felt that it was time to kick start this thing back to life. Not that we know anything about kick starts cause our bikes have stupid buttons that do everything.
Some of you may remember me from an article I wrote a few months back titled “The Elements“. If the phrase “dick => fan” doesn’t jog your memory then chances are you haven’t read it. And without further a due, let me take you on a journey thoughtfully named “I didn’t choose the bobber life, the bobber life chose me.”
Everyone’s been posting up their bikes, their builds, and their bobbers recently and i guess it’s finally time to tell my story. It all started on a shitty day last December when I went over to my buddy Dat’s house to do something I don’t remember, so it probably wasn’t important anyhow. I saw his bike and was instantly hooked on the rat-rod theme he had going on. (@Dat: calm down I just think it’s aight.) At the time I couldn’t give a rats ass about bikes being a broker than broke college student. Then when he told me how much he spent on his build, I was in.
Finding Mrs. Right:
A week later Dat hooked me up with our friend Young, aka YK, aka The Prez, aka The Guy who helped me build my bike. They told me what bike I should be looking for and the search begins. Each and everyday I prowl Craigslist like the Roxbury Brothers in a nightclub. I find one, back tags. Find another, got sold. Find another one, back tags. Chances of me finding a bike started looking slimmer than Miley Cyrus.
Then one day, BAM! 1995 Honda Shadow 600vlx – $2000 (Gilroy). The motorcycle was 25 minutes away from home which wasn’t bad, but the guy could only show it after work that day and it was January. Nights were cold as hell and the ride home was going to suck rhino balls. Screw it, I couldn’t let this one go and went for it. Bike looked great and I took it out for a test ride. 3 minutes later I turn back to the guy’s house and get off. My hands were frozen and there was no way I was riding this thing back home. Left a deposit and picked up the bike the next day. Couldn’t be happier. Got a great bike and and even better deal.
I get the bike home and ride it around for a week stock. After scanning through photos on Google and our FB group, it hits me that my bike looks like shit. Not only do I have a huge sofa for a seat, but these turn signals, purple tank, and dumbo sized mirrors make me look like an old man. I’ve seriously seen scooters and vespas that are cooler than stock shadows. (No offense to Vespa owners, don’t kill me)
I tell Dat and Young I need to chop this sucker up quick and YK sends me a shopping list. I click through eBay like a maniac for the next few days and three weeks later I get all my goodies together for the build.
Now came the hard part. The actual chop, I never built a bike before let alone cut one up. The guys showed me what I needed to ditch, where to cut, what to grind, where to try and lay a weld (which looked like shit), and which bolts to turn.
A month later I end up with a box full if misc parts Honda should never ever put on another motorcycle and a bike that looks like Frankenstein had a baby.
Couple days later the guys setup a group ride through some hills I’ve been on before. I rush to finish all the nick knacks and paint the frame for the ride.
The guys kept telling me during the build about riding rigid. I kept thinking ehh, I’ve been on a sport bike, this shits slow as hell. How bad could it be right?
So we meet up and I get to meet the rest of the club if you can even call it that cause we’re probably the most unorthodox group of riders in the world. We gear up, pump gas, and take off.
After being on the freeway for five minutes. I think I said “Oh Shit!” in my helmet 10 times. Bumps are no joke. Then came the hills. What usually would be an easy sweeping turn on a sport bike made me cringe every time I leaned. I learned real fast that you can’t lean these things that far. I scraped my first peg and almost shat myself. A few moments later I scrape the frame and swingarm. I see sparks and this makes me slow down to a crawl. It was like learning how to ride all over again…
I love how all our bikes are always changing. There’s always something you can do to alter the way it looks or how she runs. Even with 40+ bikes in the group now, I can honestly say that no two bikes are identical. Each man has put his own twist and style on their bobber.
What started for me as a hobby has now become an addiction. I find myself late at night looking at pictures of bikes to get ideas or scanning through eBay and other sites to find new mods I can buy. I’ve been told that my Instagram deals with nothing but motorcycles and San Jose Bobbers. Some tell me that the club is taking over my life. What do I tell these people?
“I didn’t choose the bobber life, the bobber life chose me.”