my old make shift, tank shift. on a hummer tank, 46 knuckle.

A while back when JJ CALE died i made a post about people that could sign you through the low times...

  jj cale had me locked in, blaze foley had me on a bus with his clay pigeons, and townes will
always be sitting in my truck next to when he sings Rake.  As Guy Clark's, Anyhow I Love You Came out of my speakers this morning for the ten thousandth time i realized he is part of this crew that turns feelings into words and into the sweetest of songs. Emmylou's background vocals can't be beat, and Waylon on the telecaster..... what the fuck. This is another one of the top three songs for me.

Giving everyone that ordered the holiday gift pack or tried to order a big shouting THANK YOU.

i could get too personal and tell you how much i need the proceeds from these sales, but i won't. I'll just say thanks. Enjoy them.

 Happy Holidays. Don't let em wear you down. 

Happening Now......4Q holiday gift box. One hat, One pocket T-shirt, and stickers. ALL USA MADE. Dandruff on shirt not included. Click the chick riding the spark plug to the right and it will take you to the store.

SOLD OUT. thank you

i didn't put on instagram hoping the people that check the blog would get this stuff first.

A guy named Aaron stopped by the shop and........

took some photos and asked a few questions. All around good guy. Thanks Aaron.

check them out here:  THE HUNDREDS

Don't give me that brother, brother, brother, brother. MY life

I told you before, stay away from my door
Don't give me that brother, brother, brother, brother
The freaks on the phone, won't leave me alone
So don't give me that brother, brother, brother, brother No! 
I, I found out!
I, I found out! 

Now that I showed you what I been through
Don't take nobody's word what you can do
There ain't no Jesus gonna come from the sky 
Now that I found out I know I can cry 

I, I found out!
I, I found out! 

Some of you sitting there with your cock in your hand
Don't get you nowhere don't make you a man
I heard something 'bout my Ma and my Pa
They didn't want me so they made me a star 

I, I found out!
I, I found out! 

Old Hare Krishna got nothing on you
Just keep you crazy with nothing to do
Keep you occupied with pie in the sky
There ain't no guru who can see through your eyes 

I, I found out!
I, I found out! 

I seen through junkies, I been through it all
I seen religion from Jesus to Paul
Don't let them fool you with dope and cocaine 
No one can harm you, feel your own pain 

I, I found out!
I, I found this out!
I, I found out!

1966,1976,1986,1996,...2006 1969 shovelhead in a 1934 vl frame

wasn't looking to recreate anything, just create something that felt right to me. 

regurgitated nonsense

                                                                                                                                                   At one time PUNK rock was a four letter word.
You were a freak if you were a punk rocker and were destined to take a load of shit from the normal knuckle draggers of the world. When i was about  12-15 years old my Mom would take us to quite a few punk shows

in San Francisco, places like the Farm(now the sight of Potrero skate park), the Mabuhay Gardens  on the outskirts of North Beach, various warehouse shows, and Ruthies Inn on San Pablo ave in Berkeley. It all seems like a lifetime ago and a different world, and it kind of was. Most times i was the youngest person in the room, stuck to my Mom’s side and observing the scene. My brother would grab random beers off tables and finish the last gulps left in them. He is a few years older than me, and was and alway will be someone that can’t quite mesh with other people. In fact him in the punk movement of the 80’s was probably the most social and possibly the most comfortable he ever was. He wore it well, standing about 6ft tall barefoot, when he was decked out in his boots and liberty spikes he looked 8ft tall. His look was enhanced by his acne scared face and  the -fuck off- expression came naturally . Me on the other hand, small for my age with some fucked up hair that was kinda shaved everywhere but my bangs, pegged plaid pants, hi top vans, and a flannel tied around my waist. That was about as far as i took it, basically because i was so little and just wanted to be there but not be paid attention to. I knew the bands like Black Flag, The Vandels, The Fuck ups, DK, and the Circle Jerks but at home i mostly listened to oldies. I was not a punker, i was a kid that was just in the middle of partial suburban life with my Dad and a very Urban Life with my Mom. Mostly i wanted to skate, play Pac Man, steal old playboy magazines out of dumpsters, and of course wanted to do Karate cause that shit looked cool on TV. Those days were cool, the punk clubs smelled wet and reeked of clove cigarettes and i really thought the punk chicks were hot, especially when one would shove my face into there black torn up bra covered tits and say “aww you’re Billys little brother”

  I was quiet those days, stuck in my head, confused by how different my parents were and because their divorce happened when i was two i  just really didn’t understand healthy relationships and what “normal” life was. Most days being left alone was good enough. MY brother would  rebel against everything and i couldn’t relate at all, simply because it drew so much attention. He dropped out of high school and stayed punk till he got a motorcycle then he fell in with the motorcycle messenger crowd. Smoking lots of weed, drinking, and riding his bike around he city, he skated a bit too, we had that in common for a little while until i got better than him and he got a new chick or fell into better drugs. So when i turned about 15 i took notice that my brother was no longer a punker, he was just kind of a dude, at this time he was about 19, he grew his hair long, wore motorcycle jackets, and did as little as he needed to to get by. I kinda missed my punk rock brother that would spastically move through the mosh pit with eyes full of life. We talked less, he argued with my parents more and i just started to avoid contact with him. Hitting my Mom up for weed or money was about the most energy he put into things at this time and i just became his little brother, because i had nothing to give him that made me  invisible. I was skating constantly at this time due to the fact that we had a vert ramp in our warehouse and my Mom’s boyfriend was as obsessed with skating as i was. Billy had become a master manipulator of my parents and locked into his own world where only he really existed or mattered. It was strange to see, and be younger than him but almost look down on his selfishness. One good thing about it was, i could comfortably get b’s and c’s in school and skate and no one really cared. The road my brother paved was bumpy and littered with drugs and problems. 

  I can say i probably lost touch with my brother when i turned 18, i viewed myself as a man and so did our gov’t and there was my brother at 22 still doing the same thing he’s always done, taking more than giving and only causing problems for the family. My skating was starting to take off,and i got to got to Europe with Real skateboards and started to develop my self emotionally and found a solid family in skating. I was now a skater there was no turning back. Dreaming up new tricks or skate spots kept me lying awake most nights , i was hooked and completely challenged. Sitting in a room or van full of skaters i had to learn to communicate, go with the flow, and stand up for myself. Still fairly insecure and maybe still with some younger brother complex, i was always so stoked to be invited on all the skate trips and welcomed as a part of my new family. It took me years to figure out “hey these guys actually like me and value my ability and company” it felt really good and i tried my best to contribute to that world. I liked to read and draw and listen to music but i had this identity this SKATER title that made it more clear of my purpose on the planet. Of course being a skater at this time was still what i would call an outcast activity, Jocks yelling “skater fags” was a daily occurance and grown men making fun of as well. Haha…. It was a good time to be a skater, it had a real feeling of individuality and fight to it. We skated all day everyday and that brought us travel, new friends, new scenes and so much personal growth. Years later i got a little burnt on all of it, i stepped back a bit, got into old cars a little, and then the choppers found me. This was about 1999, so i was 26. It took me years to finally finish building one. I did it with almost no help but a lot of inspiration from J jessee and his friend Job. This crazy fire had been lit, and it was so exciting to be so entranced by motorcycles. I bought a cr80 with paper route money when i was 11 and had lawn mower engine mini bikes before that, i even had a cb350 at one time, but all i could think was chopper. Its a beautiful thing to get completely wrapped up in something, kind of like the feeling of the first few dates with a new chick, where you’re just kind of lost in emotion. My life got off balance because i wanted to mess with choppers more than skate, and i had invested over a decade almost everyday to skating. It was slightly confusing and i even felt guilty at one point that i wasn’t skating more. Going back to my brother i think somewhere along the way he lost this feeling i’m talking about… and i think its because he wasn’t ever really punk he was just was of kind of there.. and he enjoyed the costume that provided an image but also let him be a selfish kid. At times i thought about building him a bike, but i could almost bet that i would constantly have to work on it, he’d get it stolen or end up getting a DUI on it and somehow it would get lost in the wash. That may sound harsh but these were harsh lessons that i had already learned first hand. A very strong appeal to me with skating was that i needed no one else to do it, and most likely the only person i would be hurting was myself. Skill and style worked hand in hand. Hawk vs Hosoi, technically gifted vs born with style. That can be a hard pill to swallow for the technical wizard or the dude with bunk style, but i’ve also seen the dude with bunk style win due to his passion. That’s so valid in life. A better ledge skater, welder, mathematician, whatever golden credentials you have…. i enjoy a world where style and soul are key elements. We all know when something is phony and stinks, it doesn’t always need to be pointed out “fucking hipster fags” the world will work it out. If you’ve ever stepped away from something you invested a lot into because it got -too popular- or -trendy- then maybe you shouldn’t of been there or you were there for the wrong reason. The amount of hate and insecurity i see being talked these days is ridiculous, and if thats you talking all that hate, most likely that is how you will be remembered. I know it sucks to see people sponge off your scene absorb personalities… I’ve had hundreds of people shoot photos in my shop and say “do this”  “ do that” and never even say thanks at the end of it. Or the guy that went cafe, shitbox chopper, dyna…. and maybe changed his personality to fit each one, it eats at you, cause you love it and it’s gross to see, but guess what it doesn’t really matter, and i remind myself of this. The most challenging thing you can be is to be yourself and to do it well. Surround yourself by people that let you be yourself and are inspiring individuals. Most of the people that don’t like me, i don’t care for them….. simple as that. How fucking attractive is a confident individual, or a complete weirdo comfortable in their own weird self.

Learning new moves in the game of life daily, shoots and ladders sometimes getting to slide but always having to climb.   11-20-14 

a great song with a strong message. a nod to woody.

When you are content to be simply yourself and don't compare or compete, everybody will respect you. Lao Tzu

keep telling everyone what a great guy you are, how everyone else is doing it wrong and that all the kids are just trendy kooks.  fuck, isn't  that  exactly what we were trying to avoid. 

I'm flawed, i've failed, everyday is learning. I fully accept that. If standing up for myself is ever taken wrong, than i've failed at that too. No one is perfect, and I accept that too.

oxymoron

i've been writing these little fictional stories. the picture is one i put on the blog long ago, just seemed appropriate.

       Stopping in his tracks and reaching deep into his right pocket Gus pulled out a tattered “to-do” list. He had written the list two months ago and had only achieved checking two things off of it. One being “pay rent to the son of a bitch landlord” and two was “buy beer”. These things always got done but Gus figured it would get the ball rolling on his list, but it hadn’t. It was common for him to be distracted at the end of summer, cool clear mornings and warm toxic sunsets were becoming a trend for late summer in North California and these two things were a fatal combination for Gus and his wrinkled little list. The list was scribbled on the inside of a matchbook cover in faded pencil, there was shit on there like, -rebuild the top end of his shovel-, fix the leak on his bathroom sink, organize parts, alphabetize his records, and last was, have a threesome with two babes. He always put one like that at the end just in case he lost his matchbook “to-do” list, hoping someone would get a good laugh out of it if found, and knowing his chances of having a threesome were slim, on top of that his old lady would cut his pecker off if he did. Gus was a hard worker, but also spent a lot of times helping other people with their problems, whether it was a buddy with a broke down  bike, or a friend that needed an ear during a hard time, Gus was there. Luckily for him he didn’t have a ton of friends due to his own personal highs and lows and his natural ability to call people out on their bullshit, which at times left Gus in what his mexican friend called “the Solo Cholo” way of life. But if someone needed help, the past was usually put to rest. Gus is what could be described as an idealist, he believed things should be a certain way,….. his way. He got easily bored with people, and didn’t relate to most conversation. I guess that’s why most days he could be found talking out loud to his motorcycle or his old dog.         Finally having some down time, he stared at his list. A few lines down he had scribbled “box of shit”, it took him a second but he remembered a while back he had bought some knuckle cases and wishbone frame from an old guy that threw in two old  Black Velvet whisky boxes filled with random parts and junk. 

   The box was on top of about twenty other boxes of random junk, Gus pulled out his trusty old three legged wooden stool, and perched on top of it stretching for the box that was just out of reach, there was ladder in the garage but that meant Gus had to go outside and wiggle the ladder out of all the garage clutter, so he opted to put a nearby brick on top of the stool and balance on that, but still the box was too high, so he grabbed a 2x6 and put it sideways under the brick and on top of the stool. Gus could have gotten the ladder at least two times by now in the amount of time he’d spent stacking crap on his stool, but he took these acts like some sort of challenge and would not fail. So balanced on top of a stool, a 2x6, and a brick, he stood on his right toe reaching for the whisky box, he kind of hopped for it and groaned, then let out a strange grunt, teetering tip toe, the stool started to shake, and he grabbed the box with one hand sliding off the others, but the stool simultaneously broke loose and Gus came crashing down pulling the box to his chest like a football player catches a ball. His ass landed hard on the corner of an old television, boxes rained down on him and lastly a steel christmas tree stand hit him square in his skull delivering a flash off white to his eyes and a burning sensation to his head, “mother fucker” Gus shouted! Then the room became still and quiet and his dog ran straight at him as if the dogs name was “mother fucker”. Pouncing into the air the dog leaped onto Gus and more boxes came piling down. The dog eagerly licked Gus’s face, and Gus began too squirm out from the volcano of fallen boxes. “Stop it you crazy fucker” Gus said to his pooch, as he rubbed his throbbing head.“This is how they’ll find my dead body”  he mumbled to his dog half pissed off, half amused by the scene that had just occurred. 

    Now standing,box in hand, Gus raised his free hand and pushed his disheveled  hair back, then pulled at the waist of his jeans and aimed his ass for a plastic milk crate, sitting down with a moan, he placed the box between his legs and pulled at the two flaps to flip open the top of the box.

~~~ the game of life ~~~ #1

 it's been a minute. heres a few things that have been happening. not all of it, but just the times when the moment was captured. friends, family, and happenings.

 congratulations to the Grossmans

we tried, see you next year A's.

true words....

i've always loved this version of "satisfied mind".
it gets me thinking every time.

last weekend was prefect

early in the a.m loaded up and ready to see what the day brings. i had spent the week putting this bike together for the Belden ride..... maybe should of had a lil more time before a 400 mile outing.

john and reyna are fucking rad. John is solid and a funny ass dude. thanks for being you john.

my bike ran pretty lame the whole way up there. last thing i wanted to do was limp it along in 100degree weather, so i left the pack, said byes to those i could find, pulled over here to take a swim in the yuba and continued on to nevada city to find a hardware store and fix my situation. Turned out the petcock had been clogged by a mass of rubber, so it was only trickling out.... makes sense why i could get up to speed. Pee next time you judge someone for leaving a ride or "sneaking out" realize sometimes it's about the journey and not the destination, i was having a blast and wanted to keep riding, alone was fine and fixing my bike was the priority. There was lots to do that weekend, stop comparing your world to everyone else's, theres people having fun out there all over the map.I hold hands with my girlfriend. Oh yea the punctuation quote you took so personal is about me.... have you ever seen how terrible mine is? 

anywho... man we need rain bad, that poor Yuba is so low. bike ran like a top on the way home. 

Along with the Belden ride i really wanted to hit the vert ramp this weekend, made it, had the best time. 14 person session? 1985? so fun.

 but you gotta pay. slammed again, transplanted my nose onto my elbow. prego.

  and then monday day game with the A's made in the shade, they won!

  wrapping the 3 day weekend up with this lil man. nothing better.

thanks casey for dealing with the "geographical challenged" brandon and marco for being patient on the way up there.  Zak and young Brandon for the skate, and the A's for a good show.

sunday morning music on a satruday

it took me a long time to realize how bad ass Roy Orbison is/was.

heavy duty.....

 received this email the other day. these guys are local, and it made it hit a little harder. oddly i had 3 dying for our dreams shirts folded and put away, i guess now i know why. they came by the house the other day to pick them up, it was very emotional and you could see the loss in their eyes. thankful to be able to be a brief distraction in all the pain of sudden death and the loss of loved ones. hope the road smooths out a bit. Kai Rip man.



Hey Max,
My name is Kjell Phillips i grew up in Concord with my older brothers Brenn and Kai. Im 20 Brenn 22 Kai 29 and I really dont know how to put this into words but last Thursday night Kai was killed in a Motorcycle accident on the border of Concord and Walnut Creek.  I know this has nothing to do with you, but the thing is Brenn has been skating since 6th grade when he found your work and followed you ever since, when Brenn showed Kai your 4Q shirts Kai fell in love with you instantly as well.  Kai always wanted to get one especially considering how much he loved and lived by your quote "Dying for the Dream" but could never get ahold of one.  Im not asking for a free shirt or anything we will pay, but to have it would be the best thing in the world for Kai even now. and my Brother and I and the Love of his life Renee really want it for him.  Kai has been riding dirtbikes since he was a teen and bought his first Sportser in 2009. He passed away on his favorite Bike his FXDX, but what im trying to say is that riding was his life and going fast and living free was him. Which is also one of the reasons why he loved you so much. This is why this is so important to me and my family and why im contacting you. I understand your busy and im asking a lot but I had to ask. The links below are just to show Im not bullshitting you and this is more than serious, but if you truly cant help I understand.

http://www.gofundme.com/cv0dko

fuck! thank you Jay. RIP. No mold was broken cause there was never a mold for this one.

  Its never about being the best, number one, or most likely to succeed. It's always confusing to me when someone who is "gifted" talent wise, becomes more valid than someone who has to give it 100% and is still able to do it with style. I think Cardiel is on that list, and Jay Adams is at the top. I teared up in his dog town and z-boys part, like many others i'm sure. When someone holds so much fire it's hard to imagine them any other way.... How will it end?  Well Yesterday Jay Adams died, and that is sad news, he gave us a lot to be inspired by. I only got to meet him a few times and it was an honor, I will celebrate his life and be thankful for his passion and creativeness that he blessed skateboarding with. Ride on Jay.

___ HARRY DEAN STANTON______ -partly fiction doc-

  saw this documentary the other night, really well done, not overdone. Its these type of actors that i think get overlooked, so glad someone with so much talent and such a long list of achievements gets the praise he deserves.

the new ~ RIPPER ~ is such a ripper

 So happy for friends involved. Ken Nagahara caught this cover shot of Tom Fugle that i feel is an image that will go down in history. It's completely gunfighter and his horse. Please support these guys and their vision. The magazines loaded with tons of BF6 photos too, lots of good stuff.

old, stale(tail), negative......

        

the sessions we've been having at the vert ramp in berkeley are some of the best i've had in my life. Fun, yet painful, good times. There's a whole new generation that is half my age, that constantly pushes me to run with them, and challenge myself. It's a lesson in patience and listening to my body and waiting for the moment it says "go", almost as if you were pumping a shotgun that only a had couple rounds in it, and you had to wait for its random firing, but were prepared to take full advantage of the explosion. I have to treat the sessions without ammo in the gun as.... exercise, comradery, and support this new generation. The other guys my age seem to only complain about how much better they used to skate and how bad there bodies hurt, i avoid the boredom and cliché of that speak but trust me, the thrill of these skates are peppered or maybe heavily salted with pain. My eyes have welled up with tears on the solo drive home thinking about how much i took a more sound body for granted, but now is simply now... and i continue to drop into the now. love is the silence in your head at this moment when everything stops, the only noise is your ball bearing whirling and your mind and body allow you to continue up the next wall. when your card gets pulled as mine did two nights ago when i over rotated on a backside smith and lost my footing.... adding another scab to my elbow and smacking my head, you simply hope that all the change you accidentally dropped on the floor can be picked up, put back in the same order it was in when you were going up the wall. Maybe short a few cents but enough to get on the ride again and chase the feeling i've felt since i was 10. No gasoline, no motor, a rather primitive tool (me and the skateboard) and a wooden U. I've seen these U's entertain robots, ninjas, cavemen, astronauts, magicians, scientists and many artists. I believe i've heard the roar of the  phrase "many are called but few are chosen" thundering above the wooden U.

brian -brain- ferdinand....

i think this is 1989.... one of the very first spitfire ads.
i've posted this before, but came across it today and figured i'd repost it.
this photo rips and i think brian was way ahead of his time and defiantly
did it his way. he's still alive... this is not one of those.
  blunt fakies where only done by a select few at this point, not too many with
this much style.
  here's to brian.

_ the numero group_ sent some rad tunes

thanks drew, totally digging all the new music. 

oaktown to chitown tank. turquoise jewelry that happens to hold gasoline,

 i'm always a little hesitant to put these closeup tank photos up because it seems there is a guy that can duplicate them almost exactly for others. But i think the guy mike that it's going to breaks peoples arms and legs for a living, so i'll have to let him deal with that.
  but on a serious note, this tank gave me hell, the bare metal was wiped with some wd40 type deal for photos and it created a solvent pop that i couldn't get out of the clear coat.... twice! stripped to bare metal....but all things happen for a reason, and this rendition is better than the other failures.
  it feels so wrong to be sticking this thing in a box and shipping it, like a funeral, but it will be resurrected when it reaches chiacago and put into the wind. i always can tell if i'm happy with something, when i finally get a chance to stop back and look at, and you kind of have to remind yourself that you did it. It's all learning, and experimenting but within some parameters that will make it all jive in the end. creativeness or whatever you call it, happens so naturally sometimes and the end result can be failure or success. I don't think of this as a traditional paint job, or one  with lots of outside influence, well aside from nature. but that what feels best about it.

bf6 2014

deep throat hot dogger, so bummed that the size of hot dogs is progressively shrinking in size

two of my favorites

                                     hey watch it!

 tom fugle american legend 2014

     what goes up must come down

  B double EE Double RR un brew ski run. This is how they built the pyramids

  i don't always like myself but i really love the 3 there people in this photo.