Ever had one of those bikes that just gave you an absolute refusal for starting? Almost like you are wearing a target, and its aiming at getting the best of you, to the point you’re inventing and combining new four letter words?

Oh, you know what I’m talking about. Those bikes that wear a kickstarter with that rubber “traction” device worn out? Or, maybe by the reminder of a trashed insole on favorite boots? It may be a pile of spent breathing enhalers in the corner of the shop as you gasp for air.

Sometimes it’s not about overexertion and repetition. Its about Fear. With other, more cantankerous bikes, a man must embrace a significant amount of scare tissue on their shin to succeed.

On downstroke to the unknown, your clinched teeth and puckered butt await a strange kick-back or other violent backfire-fueled, compression-released reaction.

This print, my friends is a tribute to all that sends you over the bars, blows your knee out, aggravates asthma, and scrapes epidermis from your lower limbs in the hopes of riding glory.

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I myself own a few bikes that bite. The 1975 Kawasaki H1 and the left kick on the 1972 Suzuki Titan 500 can keep you on your toes. The 1989 YZ490 is one of my bikes that requires a stiff boot and a good knee brace. 

-ds