Daytona Bike Week

We just got back from bike week. I am exhausted, sunburnt, and still a little bit hungover. Here are photos.

This is how we rolled. Three deep in a single cab truck 9 hours. Word.

Ready to roll.

When we finally arrived in Daytona, a beer was needed so we met up at the hot spot.

We quickly got bored of the first bar, so we called up The Barhoppers and went to them. Shitty ass bar. Right up our alley. This is the first thing that I saw when we walked in. The definition of critter ass shit.

Did I mention that there was only one bar tender who was also the one stripper?

I agree.

Ted?

Still on the clock.

Next morning. Hangover.

We made our way over to The Limpnickie Lot to check dat shit out. Grimey's scoots.

The Lot is set up at Stone Edge skatepark. This bowl was fun and is WAY gnarlier in person.

We made our way over to The Willies chopper show. This guy was ready to battle ninjas.

Lined up son.

Spenser's Trumpeto.

I actually won the award for best Sporty and Warren got best of show.

Michael's pimp shit dawg.

Cool panhead.

The bar tender.

Dude!

The show was so packed that you could hardly make your way through the crowd.

Fuckin A.

Haints coozies.

Rat-ical.

This servicar ruled.

Phat tank.

Our Hate Factory allies showed up.

Mix Master Spenser.

I like this.

That's what I'm saying.

Burnout Battle.

Oh shit! That's not supposed to happen! This poor guy's panhead caught fire during the burnouts and it got gnarly. Flames up to the ceiling, people running and screaming, and the bike was fucked. P.S. I have video of this that I will upload a little later.

Fire still a blazin'.

After fighting that fire, it finally went out. Ruined bike.

Evan.

Chapped ass.

Evan found a friend with a dope haircut.

"My name is Kiiiiiiiiiiiddddd Rock!"

Circus shit.

Pole dancer.

Bros.

We got back to the hotel room and proceeded to drink old whiskey.

Emotional mall metal.

The next day was the Cycle Source Show. There was a fuckload of cool shit. This shovelhead ruled.

I saw a lot of 23" wheels.

This shovelhead is fucking badass.

Knuck.

Why they wanted a photo of Michael with his shirt off, I don't know.

Norton chop chop.

Cool little XS.

Dawg.

Grimey's bike won again.

Overview.

We made our way to main street that night. Critter central.

Chauncey smooth talking.

Lap dance.

Look. A man nipple.

Graff son.

Kisses.

Friends.

There was even a section in the bar for all of the jocks to prove how tuff they were by hitting a punching bag.

White leather.

Dance party commence.

Fuck you, I'm tuff!

Josh showed up with his shirt off ready to party. Dude is off da hook!

I will post the footage that shot later on. I'm tired. I will go to Daytona again next year.