Yes, Daytona Bike Week is alive and well. Despite the economy, the really big Harley Store north of Daytona that threatened to kill Daytona Bike Week, and some of the worst Bike Week weather in 20 years, a whole lot of people showed up with their long johns and chaps to ride and party.

At the Broken Spoke there’s always something going on and plenty to see.

The first part of my week wasn’t even in Daytona, but farther south. In Mt. Dora I managed to shoot five old trumpets amid the even older buildings that adorn the small city. The bikes included a nice original TR6, as well as a 1953 Blackbird – which is a T-bird painted black instead of blue by the factory. At any rate, by Friday I’d had enough of the staid Triumphs, I wanted bikes that make too much noise ridden by fools who have too much fun.

The TR6 dates from 1957, the Lakeside Inn from 1883 – a very nice piece of Old Florida.

And if there’s one place where you’re guaranteed to have too much fun it’s the Broken Spoke Saloon out on Highway 1. Unlike the real bikers, I was riding in the rental Chevy. And unlike the bikers, and even the posers on motorcycles, I was warm on the way back to the motel each night. I gotta give it to those folks, they stayed late, drank to excess and then rode home in 40 degree temperatures.

A perpetual motion machine, Jay Allen is the man who keeps the party rockin’ at the Spoke.

The weather did improve slightly through the week, but the wind blew from the north all day and all week. Every day, as the sun went down the temperature followed. Mornings seemed quiet, perhaps because riders waited patiently for the temperatures to warm up a bit before leaving the comfort of the motel room.

The afternoon sun, filtered by the trees, made for some really nice picture taking.

How busy was Daytona? By late in the week when I finally arrived at the nirvana of motorcycle parties, the VACANCY signs on Atlantic Boulevard were few and far between. I ended up in what can only be called a very expensive shit-hole - the result of my own poor planning. Eventually I did get over my bad attitude and enjoyed the weekend wishing for only for one thing – my motorcycle.

When it’s hot in Daytona, you have to drink beer to cool off. When it’s cold in Daytona, you gotta drink beer to ward off the chill.

This year I flew in and out of Jacksonville, which makes for a long drive to Daytona, but affords me the luxury of decompressing for one day in St. Augustine, a very fun, funky and laidback city. Next year maybe I’ll drive down from Minnesota. That way I can drag the motorcycle with me. And if the weather is really warm on the day I’m scheduled to leave Florida, I can just say “to hell with it” and stay in St. Aug one more day.

Redheads, blonds and brunettes, they all work at the Spoke.

Hats and heavy jackets were the order of the day.

This morning finds me crammed into one of those big aluminum tubes with a hundred or more fellow travelers, all trying to escape the Minnesota cold. For me, the trip ends in Mt. Dora, a nice little Florida city roughly half way between Orlando and Daytona. The allure of Mt. Dora is a certain collector of old Triumphs, a number of which I hope to photograph for the 2011 Classic Triumph Calendar. And just up the street so to speak, is the slightly larger city of Deland, home to the J. Wood & Company’s Vintage Bike Auction, held from March 5 to 7.

In addition to the bike shoots, there are a couple of motorcycle people I need to see while I’m here, and of course there are all those biker bars on Main Street. Thoughts of Main Street remind me of the first time I attended Bike Week more years ago than I care to admit. Suffice to say I recall taking arty pics of the rowdy bikers at night with a Nikon camera equipped with Tri-X film (makes me wonder where those prints are?).

Would I rather be on a motorcycle? Yes, but on the other hand, I’d rather attend Bike Week on 4-wheels than not at all.

Who’s Workin?
It seems business owners large and small spend a fair amount of time complaining about their employees. Not me. No, because while I wander the world, Krista is busy processing all those orders that come in off the web site – and probably sipping a chocolate martini at lunch. Hey, as long as the books go out I don’t care.

Our first musical instrument book demonstrates the fact that you can build a very nice acoustic guitar at home.

And Jacki is thrashing away trying to finish two more of our spring books. Book number one is Guitar Assembly Basics, originally intended to be a fall of 2009 book, we finally have the book nearly ready for the printer. Book number two is another long-delayed title, How to Air Condition Your Hot Rod. I’m pleased to say both will be in stock (advance copies) by mid-April.

So order early and order often. Somebody’s got to pay my tab at Lollypops. Not to mention the Vodka bill from the local liquor store.

If you’d rather be cool in your hot rod, than cool on stage with a guitar, we bring you this new how to book.

In Minnesota and Wisconsin, the cold weather offers us shortcuts that others might find odd, or even crazy. Take the ice road for example. We live and work close to St. Croix River, which separates Minnesota and Wisconsin. When the river is in it’s liquid state, driving from Stillwater, Minnesota to Hudson, Wisconsin, means taking the river road to I94, location of the nearest bridge that spans the river. When the top layer of water turns solid, however, there’s this nice shortcut just south of us. If driving on ice seems insane (to anyone living south of Missouri), there are a lot of people here who should be committed.

Ice Road Truckers need their ferocious companion to fend off wolves, and travelers gone mad with frostbite and lack of food.

People don’t just drive out onto the ice one fine January afternoon, no they take it in stages. First, the hard-core ice fishermen walk out onto the ice, dragging their auger and assorted paraphernalia behind them on a sled. Once the first fisherman cuts the first hole, the thickness of the ice, at least in that location, is telegraphed through bars and cafes to everyone up and down the river. Pretty soon the first snowmobiles show up on the ice, followed by four-wheelers dragging the same sleds that were towed by hand only a week or so before. Again the thickness of the ice is telegraphed to fishermen and river rats up and down the shore. Eventually the first cars and pickup trucks ease out onto the slippery surface. But the ice road isn't really open yet, because the first cars stay along the shore and gradually work their way out to the ice houses that have sprung up to form little villages in the best fishing spots. Finally, some brave, or foolish, soul drives straight from shore to shore, and the road is officially open.

Right now the process just described is operating in reverse. By March 1 all the houses have to be off the ice. And our warm afternoons are leaving puddles on the top of the ice. Late last winter I actually started across the ice, which had 2 inches of water on the top, only to decide after about 50 yards of travel that it was too much risk for any possible gain. I turned around and came back across the bridge. As far as I know, no one has gone through on the ice road, though earlier this winter there was the report of a lost snowmobile and rider about five miles south of the I-94 bridge.

Personally, I lust not for a snowmobile, but an old dirt bike. They actually race them on a small, plowed "track" on the ice. And while I sure don't wanna race, taking the beater Honda for a ride on the ice while the Bagger is in cold storage sounds like a lot of fun to me.

When it comes to building icehouses, there aren't a lot of codes or standards, yet the fishermen and women spare no expense in creating their chateaus.

Value of the US Dollar falls Again in Wisconsin

Speaking of the two states that border the river, they say that Wisconsin rates very high in per capita beer consumption. And it might be just a coincidence, but I did find an interesting ad in the local shopper paper.

All of which goes to show that life in the Great White North is never dull.

In Wisconsin they’ve replaced the US Dollar as the primary means of exchange.