It’s January in Utah. Sundance is here and that means films, lots of bio diesel-powered black Hummers puttering around Park City, Paris Hilton, weaseling into 50 Cent shows, Paris Hilton, weaseling out of 50 Cent shows after waiting in a crowded bar for three hours and finally, a little rock and roll with Camp Freddie. I heard Paris Hilton was there, but I didn’t see her. Camp Freddie is an L.A. cover band with a rotating line-up. Usually, you will find mainstays like Matt Sorum on the drums (The Cult, Guns n Roses, Velvet Revolver) and Billy Duffy on guitar (The Cult). There are always some notable guest appearances, in this case, Nuno Bettencourt (Extreme) and Scott Ian (Anthrax).

A Nato sighting on Main Street Park City

 Camp Freddie takes the stage

Nuno Bettencourt playing Led Zeppelin’s Whole Lotta Love

After many months of searching, I finally realized when you need cool crap for an Austrian-built motorcycle, don’t dink around with redneck four-wheeler-selling open for four hours on Saturday put you on hold for eternity never update their website with current info American motorcycle dealers. Go straight to the source. The lads at Sommer KTM in Germany hooked me up with what I needed and all it took was a few emails and a few extra Euros for shipping. Speaking of Euros, not only is the dollar the laughing stock currency of the global economy, but I just read the dollar has been eclipsed by the Canadian dollar. When I was a kid, if someone gave you a quarter and it was Canadian, you had to say ah shucks, that ain’t worth anything, it’s Canadian. We better watch out or we’ll be playing catch up with the Peso soon.

These burly crash bars protect the side fuel tanks in case of a dump in the desert. They also protect the fuel cock. That’s right. These were fun to put on and then find out when I was done that I had 4 “extra” washers. The directions were in German and Rawlins wasn’t around, so I had to do it all over again.


Crash bars and pannier boxes, side view.


Close up of the 32 L pannier boxes. Detachable, lockable and ready for adventure.

I wonder what Babs is doing right now. On Monday, September 17th, moto and company walked on holy ground. After a quick drive into Manhattan from southwest Connecticut, I met up with my brother from another mother, Lou Vito, Artist Relations guru for Gibson Guitars. We met Lou just inside the Garden and he passed out tickets and “Local Crew” badges and we descended into the inner workings of the stadium. We didn’t have much time, but we shook hands with Big Al’s guitar tech and marveled at all the Les Pauls getting tuned up and ready for the show. We then took our seats on the 8th row and settled in for another great show.

Big Al was on fire. Many of his Les Pauls were equipped with Floyd Rose tremolos. You don’t see that too often.


After the show, we went back to the hospitality room. This was the schedule that was posted on the wall. Even progressive rock stars who have been touring for 30 years have a schedule to follow.


The lemons and limes were for tequila shots and beer after the show. Since we had Big Al’s initials on our Local Crew passes, it was no problem getting into the afterparty. We got to say hello to Geddy and have a beer with Alex. They looked tired, after rocking hard for almost three hours. Maybe I should get some plane tickets and see if Lou can get me backstage for Glasgow?

Since the Moto posts are supposed to be all-motorcycle, all the time, I feel obligated to explain the connection between that ground rule and this post being about a Rush concert in Seattle: Neil Peart, legendary drummer and lyricist is a huge adventure rider. After losing his daughter to a car accident and his wife shortly afterwards to terminal illness, Peart was a broken man. He clawed his way back from the brink with a very simple therapy. He got on his BMW GS 1100 and embarked on a two wheeled odyssey all over North America. He wrote a book called Ghost Rider, which I highly recommend for anyone interested in one or any of the following: motorcycles, Rush, healing, adventure, love, survival. Babs, this post is for you.

It was raining at the White River Amphitheater in Auburn, Washington. The venue was covered, so you only got wet in the beer garden. This place sucked. You had to wait in line for just about everything.


Big Al is back with Gibson. All Les Pauls, except for his relic white ES 335 which he used for the encore. What happened to the Paul Reed Smiths? Good riddance. The LP’s are much heavier.


The set included many excellent songs from the new album and quite a few surprising songs from the past. Nothing like a little Witch Hunt to bring you back to the early eighties.

Day 1: The Chupacabra search team rolled out of Park City at 6:00 PM on Friday the 13th. There was Moto on the KTM 640, Nato on the Dakar, Matt on the Pegaso, Ben on the Killer and Steve aka Dr. Evil on the bumblebee (BMW GS 1150 Adventure). We gassed it up in Heber, hammered past Strawberry Resevoir, then dropped into a shady forest near Strawberry Pinnacles. Nato was pushing it hard on the damp and greasy trails. It was not easy to keep up. The rain showers were ahead of us, but the dirt was still a little wet. After coming out on a dirt road somewhere in the Ashley National Forest, we came to closed road, or at least a “road closed” sign. It was either camp there or get the bikes through an impassable section. With some teamwork and some engineering, we got the bikes through before dark. We rode up high on the ridge and thought about camping, but instead pushed on in the dark until we hit highway 6. We made Price at 10:00 PM and made it to JB’s for some greasy plates of food. Although the digs in Price were less than luxurious, Matt did bring a little cooler bag filled with ice cold beers. That helped get through Day 1.


A closed road? Or just a recommendation.

Day 2: The worst eggs bennie I’ve ever had, then on to Skyline Drive, or not. Another damned Road Closed sign. This one was the real deal. We had to find another way up. Rolling through dirt roads and camp grounds, we saw tons of folks riding ATV’s with no helmets. Young kids, old ladies, big out of shape folks. Nato called it Darwinism. We finally made it up to Skyline Drive above Ephraim. We rolled along at 50 to 60 mph, stopping frequently to take pics and gaze at the clouds. Finally came off Skyline Drive and dropped into Ferron, Utah. Came through a forest fire that was still smoldering. Gave new meaning to the expression burnt to the ground. Rode past a firefighters camp; 20 or 30 Eureka tents, all lined up nice. Stopped at a place called the Grub Box. Not a pretty name, but killer shakes, burgers and patty melts. Onward to Cathedral Valley and the crash course is riding in sand.

Up on Skyline Drive



On the road to Cathedral Valley



Crossing the mighty Fremont just before sunset. After a hairy ride through Capitol Reef and the twisties coming into Fruita, we made it to Torrey and had a few pitchers/rounds of horsehoes at Jon Sabala’s Patio restaurant.

I met these dudes while on a film shoot for the Utah Office of Tourism. We were holed up in Torrey at a coffee house that had free wireless, and a swarm of BMW GS 1200’s and 1200 Adventures rolled in. These guys looked tired and hungry and they all had stickers on their windscreens that read “Miami to Alaska 2007.” That’s Miguel in the middle, and the guy to the right is Alex, the First King of England. I think Alex was riding a Triumph Tiger, which kind of makes sense. When I told Miguel that I had a group of riders here in Utah, he invited us to roll our bikes down to his ranch in Argentina. Sounds like an adventure.

The rolling band of badass banditos


The only thing a nine iron is really good for

Ever been to Hanna, Utah? After hours of cruising on dirt roads, I was feeling like the Highlander, so we stopped to take some pics of the landscape above Current Creek Reservoir. After dumping the KTM in a mud bog, jamming the front wheel so full of mud it wouldn’t turn, I finally got rolling again with Nato’s help. After pondering out loud, I wonder how I would have gotten out of that bog without some help, Nato remarked that the mud would have dried up, eventually. I would have been a fossil by then. After several puckering sections of terrain including a road that was made out of sand, we got to the Hanna Country Store. While I was paying for gas, a lady walked in the store with spurs on her boots. Sweet.

High above Current Creek


Nato looking down on the road ahead


Sitting on my arse


Take them bikes and git

The Brothers Simons are two Utah motoheads who grew up in the Park City area. Elder brother Zach rides a venerable KLR while Casey the younger has been tinkering with a DRZ, but I have yet to see it. Sometimes Casey rides his Dad’s brand spanking new BMW F 650 GS.

Casey and Zach


Brand spankin’ new F 650 GS