CRAZY. I got swept up into a massive, hooligan motorycle rally last night.

I'd just made a big yawn inside my helmet, as I rode north on LaBrea, when all of a sudden there are hundreds of roaring, smoking, tuned-up, tricked-out Jap sportbikes passing by in the opposite direction. I hesitated, watching the massive pool of riders dominate every lane, like a school of Piranas. Some of the riders beckoned me to turn around and fall in with them. I should not have done it, but I did it.

Suddenly I was a motorcycle rebel.

The mass of superbikers stopped at a gas station on Sunset, as more and more dedicated two-wheel *fuck you* types pulled up, coming from all directions, in squads of three to five riders. I rode very slowly and carefully around the pumps, conscious of keeping my balance good and my feet on the pegs. Stuff like that matters when you're on *a run*. It was cool, because I could pretend to be looking for "my set", when really I was just marvelling at the faces of the riders, most of whom had pushed their helmets back and whipped out spliffs and cell phones.

I gathered that despite the few lone wolves like myself, most of the other riders came with their local bike clubs. There were a lot of black guys (easily half the crowd), but also many Asians and Latinos, which is not so common in the superbike crowd. There even seemed to be some smaller outfits composed entirely of chicks... But all that was no matter, becasue it was a straight up motorcycle fest. No one was judging anone else - It was very cool.

A guy on a Suzuki started doing a standing burn-out in the middle of the service station. With both of his feet up on the pegs and the engine screaming at 10,000rpm, he crabbed his bike in circles, as it smoked and burned and screamed.
Suddenly all the bikes were roaring, and we were off down Venice Blvd, headed for the 710 freeway to Long Beach. There were 400 bikes in the mass at that point, and not ONE observed a single traffic regulation. I saw guys going through city streets at 100 to 110 mph... Inches of separation between them and other bikes. A guy at the gas station had told me to stay near the front, so I could see the hardcore guys doing tricks on the freeway - and I was not dissapointed.

So it's like 11:30pm at this point, but instead of being cosy at home, I'm hauling ass down the 710 freeway to L.B.C., trying my damndest to keep up with what I realized to be an honor guard of southern California trick riders.
The riders at the front of the pack doing all this insane shit were these types who sport German-styled helmets and black bandanas over their faces bank-robber style. They all seemed to be wearing black football jerseys, and I realized later, this is to cover the body-armor they wear underneath.
These are the same guys who do the stunts on shows such as BIKER BOYZ and FATS AND THE FURIOUS.
As these are the guys who do the stunts for movies, I'd say they are the hottest, extreme-superbike riders in the world, which I believe puts them among the most extreme anything in the world... Or at least anything I've ever encountered - and i've seen some insane shit.

The most beautiful thing you can do on a bike is a *12 o'clock-wheelie*. That's what they call a wheelie in which the bike is perfectly vertical, and the rider stands up straight on the pegs with his stomach pressed against the gauges. In that position, the rider is effectively 8' tall, riding a unicycle down the freeway at 90mph. To see it from up close - from another bike two car lengths back - is really unforgettable. They can hold those wheelies for a long time. Sometimes two or three guys would do them side by side, within a single lane. That had to be the wickedest thing I have ever seen.

Being the artsy-fartsy guy that I am, I found myself wondering later why those wheelies created such a response in me. Because I was near enough to the trick riders, I was able to see something in those moves that was never visible to me before. A superbike standing up straight on its back tire, when see from the rear, has the silhouette of a voluptuous, hourglass figure. Literally, it looks like a woman. If you imagine the bike pointing skyward, you can trace the outline of that hourglass shape - the wide tank, which tapers inward to the seat, which then flares back out in the tail piece.
Next time you see a superbike parked, imagine how a 12 year old boy would make that hourglass form with his open hands, and you'll see what I mean.

But to see a guy holding onto this 350 lb. female effigy... Controlling it, despite the obvious disparity in power... It's like a Tango with booster rockets.

I'm getting crushed by Yahoo right now. Two weeks ago I was slightly dismayed to find that my old password would not get me into my e-mail account. Since then I have become more anxious about it. I have not been able to pick up mail for two weeks. I have no idea wha's going on in there.
And the worst thing is that it feels a bit too much like this was no accidental screw up. I suspect there is a *mano neri* at work here.

Could someone really be in there? Doing whatever ill she chooses? I'm trying to visualize all the possibilities for mischief that two weeks in a stranger's (assumption) e-mail would provide.
It may be a simple Yahoo screw up, but that's not the feeling I'm getting.
It's as if someone has changed all the locks... No, it's more like someone has welded steel plates over the doors and windows. That's not quite right, becasue there is only one entrance to one's yahoo. It's more like a tiny condo within an unmagniably large complex. It's very futuristic when you visualize it.

And it's getting worse. Last night I discovered that my e-bay password no longer works.

Anyway, I sure could use some help if anyone has experience with this. The yahoo support system is the mother of all automatic routing systems to nowhere. It's all e-mail based, so there is a painfully long turn-around time for *solutions* - which are shite in any case.

Anna has been my angel in all of this - by the way. Like Rose of No man's land, tending to the fallen boys left in the mud of Flanders and Verdun, so Anzo has swooped in and set me up a temp e-mail account: vincent_dow@yahoo.com

I'm curious to see how this thing turns out. I hope it's a big nothing. I'll still never feel the same way about e-mail again.