The custom bike scene, like any other art form, often finds itself bending to the will of fashion. But there’s no shame in that – music, painting, dance and almost any other genre you care to name have to endure the same challenge. And while in the heat of the moment a certain trend can seem to the viewer to be very ‘cool’ or ‘exciting’, it’s often only a matter of time before the truth becomes apparent. That’s when cool becomes lame, exciting becomes humorous and your wardrobe full of flared trousers becomes an embarrassment. But what happens when time doesn’t weary? When something improves with age? Well, that’s when timeless happens. Classic happens. This happens.
Words Pete Cagnacci | Photos by MyMediaSydney
The growing juggernaut that is Throttle Roll was on again for it’s 3rd year, along with it’s sacred mantra; amalgamate Sydney’s colourful bike community and showcase it’s unique builds. Music, food and booze are of course essentials in this holy event.
The day starts early, with 300+ riders meeting up at Harry’s café De Wheels. Coffee was being poured down throats as everyone poured over each other’s bikes. The excitement for the day was high and it was time for the ride. The crew headed off south to the Royal National Park, with more riders joining on the way. Soon the group swelled to 500+ bikes. There was now a mass of exhaust and a thunderous roar heading down the Sea Cliff Bridge. It’s always a tough task keeping together such a large number of bikes, often peeling off into several groups, but there’s a ride leader, markers, tail gunners and support vehicles. The battalion of bikes all gathered at Bald Hill car park, soaking up the sun before making the pilgrimage back up to Enmore for the main event. Park up, drink up, and party.
Consider, if you will, the pitiful life of the average pogonophobic. ‘What’s a pogonophobic,’ I hear you ask? A pogonophobic, dear reader, is a person with a morbid fear of beards or facial hair. How quickly their daily goings-on must transform into nightmarish, hair-filled scenarios brimming with unimaginable terrors. The accidental glimpse of Tom Selleck while changing TV channels. Waking in a cold sweat with a head full of Ned Flanders. And what could be worse than a monstrous craving for fried chicken only to flee in fright at the Colonel’s wondrous white whisker wings? This is what; a veritable ‘perfect storm’ for pogonophobics the world over. They call it hell on earth. We call it ‘The Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride’.
It’s not every day that you find out the the largest private collection of original Crocker motorcycles – in the world – are being stored in a warehouse/cafe just down the road from where you live. These beautiful ‘Icons of 1930s Los Angeles’ have found a new home in a small Waterloo cul-de-sac nestled in one of Sydney’s latest gentrified areas. The owner of these exquisite motorcycles, Chilli (as he’s affectionately known), has set out to “preserve a rare piece of automotive history by offering the same bespoke experience as back in Crocker’s prime at 1346 Venice Boulevard, Los Angeles” – hence the name.
As promised, here’s some footage I captured from my recent stint moonlighting as a director on a motorbike with the GoPro Hero HD. Seventy eight separate clips and over two hours worth of HD rushes edited down into three minutes and twenty one seconds of something that I hope you’ll find mildly amusing. In case you’re wondering, the song is “Black Rice” by Canadian band Women.
I went into Deus Ex Machina oxford st in sydney today to buy some gear and saw the sr400 grievious angel they have in store. That is such a sweet looking bike. I am sold on it. Going to make my SR400 very similar. Love the all black look. I took a couple of pics – they are from my iphone so not the highest quality…