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[hobotalesaus]

Episode 3: A Hesitating Pulse Is Good Company

I still remember the first time I came to Melbourne; I was about 18. Everything was foreign and weird and busy and sunny. ‘People are strange, when you're a stranger. Faces look ugly, when you're alone.’ I ended up in Collingwood, another planet to me back then. I found solace in a corner pub. The porch light was on and it was the closest thing to home as I could find. 

Living in the big smoke isn't for everyone, but certain people just fucking thrive. Jay is one of those people. Totally sober in the spot he lives, figuratively speaking. When I first met the bloke, he showed me through his place in his moccasins (yeah I remember mate) and pointed out different pieces of art, memorabilia, just stuff. The stuff that we fill our spaces with because we love looking at it and it's a puzzle of what makes us, ‘us’. This was the shit that he loves and you could see it straight away. Outside, there was this faint buzz of the city, with a heartbeat and tyre noise and the smell of god knows what. Maybe a police siren or some shit. It reminded me of a song, with the line "A hesitating pulse is good company". If I was to sum up Collingwood, especially in that house on that day, it would be with that line. "A hesitating pulse is good company". 

Firstly, Jay is a bloody good bloke. My old man would always tell me the best way to approach somebody is like this: If you think you're a good fella, I do too, until you prove me wrong. Something tells me that Jay hasn't proven anyone wrong. 

Knowing this about him, we approached Jay recently about doing a story and he was more than happy to go with it, which actually sort of posed a problem; he's got so many fucking things on the go, and is equally good at all of them, that we were hard pressed to make room for it all. But we'll give it a red hot crack anyway. 

Born in the early 90s, Jay spent most of his time as a young fella riding BMX like most of us did. Outside til dark, jumping kerbs, ruining your shoes by putting them in between the forks and the front tyre. Yeah we all did it. "How do you keep ruining your shoes so quickly??" the words rang out across the house and you knew you were about to get whooped. Street Sharks on the telly, poster of Matt Hoffman on the bedroom wall. How good was that? Then the natural transition (as if that isn't the best fucking pun I've ever heard) to skateboarding. "The first skate video I ever saw was a FLIP SORRY part. That got me so pumped up to go skate, the whole soundtrack and attitude was surreal! Skateboarding basically consumed my life from then all the way up til now," he says, and yeah, it fucking shows. "I tell you what, I had a few Margera decks growing up. But Geoff Rowley stood out for me, and still influences me for sure, even to this day."

There's always been this weird connection between skating and motorcycles; we're not talking your $40,000 BMW touring bike or your Hyabusa. We're talking about Triumphs, Harleys, chopped up Honda's. Making noise and pissing people off. Literally giving the finger to anyone who gives you that greasy look. "I got into motorcycles when I was about 21 or 22, after a trip to the US. All I'd ever wanted to do was go to the U.S and skate all the spots I'd seen in the videos. I had organized with a friend from Geroa (check a map) to head over; his old lady owned a condo in Oceanside, Cali. They were kind enough to invite me over to stay." 

“We're talking about Triumphs, Harleys, chopped up Honda's. Making noise and pissing people off. Literally giving the finger to anyone who gives you that greasy look”

"I took some photos of that chopper on this 35mm Minolta 201 I got for $30 on eBay.”

"So there we are at a skate park in California, and a mate of Ray's rolled up on this bad-ass cone Shovel chopper that he built himself. I didn't grow up around parents or a cool uncle who rode motorcycles, so when I was confronted with this dirty, leaky machine, I was fascinated. No foot pegs, looked like it hadn't been cleaned since the 80s. We were in the car on highway, watching him haul ass, weaving in and out of lanes, skateboard strapped to the sissy bar. That was it for me" he says, and you know that you had the same moment at some point in your life where you went "Yep, that's what I'm all about". He continues, "I took some photos of that chopper on this 35mm Minolta 201 I got for $30 on eBay. Turned out the mechanism to eject the film was broken so I lost it all. Still have the memories though. I came home to Australia and maybe a month later I went and bought a 2016 Sporty 48; because what the fuck do I know about building old motorcycles?" But who the fuck cares what it is right, as long as it's not a street bike. 

This leads us into another jack of all trades moment with Jay; photography. "Sometimes when I'm feeling frisky, I whip out the old Nikon D700. I take 6 photos or maybe 30, and sometimes 1 will come out good. I'm not a photographer, I just take photos sometimes.", which is pretty much enough to sum it up. "I'm stoked with a whole bunch of photos I've taken, and that's all that fuckin' matters." Too right bloke. 

"Sometimes when I'm feeling frisky, I whip out the old Nikon D700. I take 6 photos or maybe 30, and sometimes 1 will come out good. I'm not a photographer, I just take photos sometimes."

"Sometimes I paint, sometimes I get angsty sitting there for long periods of time trying to figure out colour blending and all the rest. I did the Knucklehead painting and that's pretty much where that ends." I was actually lucky enough to grab said Knucklehead painting, which takes pride of place in my lounge room. It's a wicked, dusty, rusty painting that tells you that the motor is as old as sin. Just how we like it. "I can't draw to save my life, but I spent what felt like 3 months working on it here and there." That led us to a pretty significant point in the story, with what I guess I'm trying to capture with these interviews. "Expressing yourself is a great way to be heard; you can tell a story through an action, a photo, a drawing..whatever. And without self expression, the world is a pretty boring place."  

“I was actually lucky enough to grab said Knucklehead painting, which takes pride of place in my lounge room”

So, as far as the nitty gritty, I think a lot of us have seen Jay's scoot by now. That 48 Sporty we mentioned earlier was written off "trying to pull a wheelie leaving work", which is a pretty standard outcome I reckon. So the white beast is a 72 Sporty, which was stripped down and and built back up by David at Primal Garage, with some work being done by Sean at Bar-None Moto. He cut the rear fender struts, and had some solid bar machined up to look like suspension, but it is actually hard-tailed. He also lifted the tank a little, modified the seat pan that Sean made, fit a new rear fender so it tucked nicely around the tire. He also freshened up the bike by re-painting the tins pearl white, with champagne stripes fading to silver. He also chucked the Leviathan cross on the tank at my request. He finished it all off with a set of bad ass up sweeps! Sean smashed out new bars, sissybar, license plate/ brake light bracket, and gave Dave a good start on the king/queen seat pan. Now I have a sweet ass looking bike that I’ve barely ridden this year. Covid has been a struggle", he says, and those of you in Victoria can attest to the fact that this year has been a total write off. Not being able to get out, hit some pubs, roll the swag out beside the bike and sleep in the dirt; that's our lockdown. "I’ve gone damn near everywhere on that bike, I love it to bits!" 

“He cut the rear fender struts, and had some solid bar machined up to look like suspension, but it is actually hard-tailed.”

There aren’t too many ways to describe riding a motorcycle to somebody who hasn't done it. And there's a difference again between riding in total comfort, heated grips, perfect riding position, had vitamins this morning, has a go-pro strapped to his head, has every supply under the sun in his bags, middle aged dentist on a touring bike. I'm talking about being stripped down of all fancy equipment, burning your legs, can't hear anything, welts on your face, hot, cold, numb fingers, sore arse, no fuel left, phone is dead, you're still 50kms from where you think the camp spot is but you know what? You could keep riding for another 1000kms because fuck me, this is what it's about. 

“..total comfort, heated grips, perfect riding position, had vitamins this morning, has a go-pro strapped to his head, has every supply under the sun in his bags, middle aged dentist on a touring bike.”

The smell of a campfire, the taste of a bug on your teeth, the spine shattering crack from a pothole on your hardtail, losing your house keys somewhere in the last 2 days riding, unpeeling yourself from the bike and finally being able to stretch your hips as the locals stare. "Passing out in the dirt, waking up in the rain. Skateboarding was my first love, but riding motorcycles is one big adventure, and the best one I've been on in years." says Jay, as I think we all for a moment realize that from now on, whenever anyone asks "Hey, lets skip town for a night on the bikes", you're going to say yes regardless, for fear of never being able to do it again. 

"Passing out in the dirt, waking up in the rain. Skateboarding was my first love, but riding motorcycles is one big adventure, and the best one I've been on in years."

If our readers are anything like us, and I think they are, living in the city is doable if there's an escape in between the chaos. "Pre-Covid, my girlfriend (Asti) and our dog (Luna) and I would head up into the mountains every other weekend. Find a cool spot to park and just walk around for awhile, explore. We could let Luna off lead and she loved it. I like shooting photos in the forest. Nature is the best". 

"Camping holds a special place in my heart. I love the smell of a campfire, endless banter between mates, NO RECEPTION. Not showering for awhile is also a guilty pleasure. We've all had our fair share of wet-wipe showers". I'll be honest, as long as there's water near by, that's good enough for me. Winter or not. Which reminds me, little tip for painting the town brown in the bush; dig two little holes for your heels, stick a log or the shovel in the ground, hang onto it and lean back. Opens up the bowels. (You'll thank me I reckon). 

’’We've all had our fair share of wet-wipe showers"

Everyone has a favorite camping story. I think as time has gone on, they don’t stand out as much as they used to, they're all great. Even when you ended up broken down in the rain, lost, hungry, hungover. Still better than a night in the city if you ask me. 

"My favorite camp spot was something not easily forgotten.  My girlfriend and I tripped out to Wilson’s Promontory one weekend. We paid to spend the night in the camp site which was basically a grass car park with no fires allowed and we decided that it just wouldn’t fly with us. We packed a couple of backpacks with the tent, sleeping mat, sleeping bags etc. We hiked a trail for an hour or so, scouting a suitable place to set up shop along the way. We eventually decided to veer off the trail, and head down through the shrub toward the ocean. We ended up finding the most insane spot! On top of a cliff, a nice flat piece of land on some moss covered rocks. Looking over the ocean. We were even graced with a sunset, right over the water, directly in front of us. Romantic as fuck, it was amazing. Golden hour blew us away. Not a single person in sight, but us. We got a little fire going and just marveled at what we found and where we were. That was the best camp spot for sure. If it were possible to accompany that with motorcycles, shit. I could have died right there and then."

‘’Even when you ended up broken down in the rain, lost, hungry, hungover. Still better than a night in the city if you ask me’’

“We packed a couple of backpacks with the tent, sleeping mat, sleeping bags etc. We hiked a trail for an hour or so, scouting a suitable place to set up shop along the way.”

I reckon that's a pretty good image to leave this story on. I think there's something special about people who can find solace in nothing, in no-one, just being content with what's happening at that moment in time. A sunset, setting off a car alarm with your pipes, burning away from a servo with a full tank of fuel. The big picture is made up of a million little pictures.

We always ask people what their life motto is; what they stand by. Jay gave us this. "Do more of what makes you happy. Whatever it is.”

Thanks bloke, it's been a time and a half. First beer is on me once the wall comes down.

"Do more of what makes you happy. Whatever it is."

All photos by Jay except for top photo by Sean (Bar-None Moto). 

[hobotalesaus]

Episode 2:

Ron Kirk: Rat Rod’s are a bloody insult!

Back in the early days, you couldn't search online for that part you needed to get your jalopy ready for the Friday night drive in, or for that street race you'd organised with the fella who drove the Black '32 3-window. Your only option was to make or trade that part. No matter how you had to do it, you made it happen. Countless hours filing, busted knuckles, cursing at the workshop dog. Swap meets and barn finds. They talk about having a shoestring budget; that's exactly what the original hot rodders worked on.

Making your shit go fast because that's all you wanted to do, and doing it with no budget, loan or parental backing behind it. All the late nights and broken promises came down to a single moment in time; kicking the loud pedal and proving a point. "I am faster than you". They say racing has been around since they built the second automobile, and that's never changed. Certain people learned to make and fabricate parts, paint their hot rods, build their engines, purely by necessity. And when you come across someone who has built these machines with their hands for the last 60 odd years, you pull up a stool, crack a beer, and for fuck's sake you just listen.

“They say racing has been around since they built the second automobile, and that’s never changed”.  

Grenfell, NSW is bushranger country. The wild central west. Home to Ron, the fella I'm referring to above. Unfortunately, the beer, yarn and spare bed he's offered me will have to wait until the world opens up again (Thanks Victoria).

Putting a 8BA Flatty into a Model A is a pretty good start for any mechanic, let alone one at 12yrs old with no fancy tools or machinery. Just hands, blocks of wood, whatever it took. That’s how Ron began, and almost 60 years later, he's doing things the same way; by hand, scrap yard parts, out in the open or in the garage, the way God intended. "We built 'em that way as young blokes because there was no specialty hot rod parts shops, and we couldn’t afford it even if there was. Now in retirement, money is still an issue. But we get more satisfaction in making a part from scrap steel rather than bolting on a pre-fab part. “In the end, you get a very unique and individual car, and that is what hot rodding is all about” he says. I guess on the face of it, that true essence of hot rodding has been overshadowed by big dollar show cars; fiberglass bodies, crate motors and TCI chassis.

“In the end, you get a very unique and individual car, and that is what hot rodding is all about” 

 "Another part of hot rodding that's been lost forever; hot rodding and speedway used to go hand in hand. Drag racing changed all that." This comment led us to something that brings out the 10 year old in me, as he lets slip that he still has a couple of modified in his shed; belonging to none other than Jeff Pickering. As in, the cover of The Australian Hot Rodding Review (April, 1968) and his purple #28 modified. Ron is now the custodian of both the V8 and the 6cyl cars that Jeff ran back in the 60s.

Things move slowly in that part of the country, but when you've been doing it since the early days, time is irrelevant. Shit gets done when it gets done; and it gets done the old school way. "This is the '33 I've just finished, only things I bought were the headers and the wiring." he states, noting that the cost of things these days make life difficult. There's always been a distinct difference between how people build their cars, depending on where they’re from. 

“Shit gets done when it gets done; and it gets done the old school way.”

"Magazines back then were owned by big publishing companies, who covered everything from sport to gardening. When hot rodding took off here in the late 50s, there wasn't enough going on for a dedicated magazine every month so they incorporated speedway, go karts and drag racing later on into some mags to fill the pages. They didn't know much about any of these things, as you can see when you read these early mags. Any U.S articles came from the East Coast, which was very different to the West Coast (mainly California). West Coast was HiBoy Roadsters and HiBoy chopped coupes, East Coast had channelled, un-chopped coupes and channelled roadsters. ”That East Coast influence through those mags was the way we went here originally." With this, there's no question that Ron is extremely passionate. And you can't help but see why. This is something that runs deep in the people who understand it. "Rod mags these days make their money from ads, and it's the mags that set the trends. If you read about a build, the parts in that rod are advertised sometimes on the next page. These days you can build a 32-34 Ford and none of those parts are from 32-34, let alone from a Ford!" he proclaims.

"Not many of us old blokes have kids that have any interest (in what we do), so it wont be long before our era is gone."

"These cars are not hot rods, they're street rods. The alternative for young blokes is slim; rat rods to us old school hot rodders is just a bloody insult."

"Not many of us old blokes have kids that have any interest (in what we do), so it wont be long before our era is gone." says Ron. And that right there, is what we're trying to stop from happening.

There's a lot more to this story from Ron, but we'll leave it here for now. Once the wall comes down, we’ll be making the trip up to Western NSW and sharing a few beers and a campfire with Ron, and we can’t bloody wait. 

All photos supplied by Ron and his wife, Shirley. 

[hobotalesaus]

EPISODE 1: Sam Veenbaas: Don’t Die Wondering.

At the base of Mount Youngal, a stones throw from the Murray River and about a days ride from Melbourne, the valley of Bunroy drips the frost from it's awnings and creaks with the morning sun. It's the middle of July and it's a colder cold than you've ever been. Around 30 free souls call this little valley home; including the greasy fingernails and Locky Lennard curls belonging to our mate Sammy Veenbaas. He's at a turning point in his life, a fork in the road, about to sign a deal with the Devil. On the one hand is stability and a monotonous 9-5 slaving away to the man, and on the other is freedom, stress, hardship and bloody good times. Such is life when all you want to do is bring old pieces of steel out of their slumber. But we all know that, that's why we're addicted to the smell of old oil, rat shit and sleezy centrefolds. This new deal with the Devil I'm referring to is a new business venture; shaking off the shackles. But lets leave that shit be for a minute and travel down the two lane blacktop to figure out where it all started for Sam.

Hobo: Tell us about growing up mate. 

Sam: Being born in Wodonga, growing up in the small town of Finley, NSW, we left there at the age of 3.5 and moved permanently to Wodonga, VIC. Living in Wodonga for over 20 years I thought I would get out and go visit the place they call ‘Gods Country’, at the foot of the snowy mountains in a small valley named Bunroy, about 25mins out of the town Corryong.

Hobo: Do you think life would be better or worse if you stayed there up until now? 

Sam: Its been a turn for the better, that’s for sure. Living at the end of the line, no other properties after us, you don’t get to many visitors or passing by traffic. Its been a good way to clear the mind, figure out what I want in life and save some dollars to god knows what to do with.

Hobo: Tell us about building the Fairlane. 

Sam:  The old brown turd is a 1959 Ford Fairlane/Galaxie. It’s a two door hardtop from the states. Imported in about 2015. I bought it stock, a two tone red over white, with a little 223 inline 6 cylinder in it. 

I picked it up in Geelong, off an old fella that had imported several cars from the states and didn’t have the time do get to them all, the day we picked it up we took it back to my cousins Hotrod and Custom shop in Coburg. Straight away I started stripping it, replacing bushes, pulling parts off it and getting it ready for paint. We painted it in a two day turn around, strip, rub back, mask up and paint. Was a rough job that was only meant for 12 months until I saved up for a proper paint job, but it’s been over four years now and it’s still there.

I was on my P plates and the little 6 was good, but I soon got sick of that. I ended up buying a Clevo and FMX auto to drop in, pulled the little 6 out, cleaned the engine bay, painted it and dropped the Clevo in.

I’ve slowly been doing it up. Little things here and there trying to get it to where I want it. My favourite mod so far would probably have to be my ‘Shag-pile’ roof line, it always gets compliments and makes people smile.

Hobo: Did you ever want to do anything else besides work on cars or bikes?

Sam: I’ve been working on cars and bikes since I could walk or hold a tool. My old man was a big-time bike and car fella. I’d spend every night out in the shed with dad while mum was working late as a nurse. Weekends would consist of either working on something or driving around picking up parts or looking for new projects to buy. I honestly cannot remember ever thinking about doing anything else, it was a part of me, in my blood to work on cars and bikes. It keeps me sane.

Hobo: What have you got going on at the moment?

Sam: I’ve always got my Fairlane on the go; it’s one of those things that will never be ‘finished’. I’m always buying parts for it, coming up with new ideas and wanting to change something that I have already done to it.

I’m also currently helping my twin brother do a quick build of his ’73 iron head. It was a teardown, clean up, re-gasket, few new parts and full rewire. We also made a new king and queen seat and sissy bar for it. It got a new tins and fresh paint job while we went at it. We’re super close to finishing it and are both excited to see how it turns out.

I’ve got my Harley, but it’s just a rider and park, wanting to keep it pretty stock for now.

Hobo: Do you have a favourite part of working on cars and bikes?

Sam: Nah, if I had to pick one thing, it would have to be the electrical work. Wiring is my go to. I believe it has a bit of an art to it; keeping it tidy, while making it work and most practical for your car or bike.

Hobo: Why do you think people do this shit, build things when they could just buy parts off a shelf?

Sam: I reckon half the reason comes down to quality, while also wanting to be able to say “I built that” in 30 years time when you’re still driving/riding it down the road and someone asks ‘where did you get that’. You also get that sense of accomplishment when you finish something and think, that thing is rad.

Hobo: Why is crafting things by hand so important?

Sam: I believe everyone has different skills. I think more people should ‘just give it a go’. Most of the time you can’t really wreck anything and if you do, just start again.

Making things by hand allows you to design it to your style, how you want it and to make it fit perfectly the first time you know? How many times have we bought parts off the internet or from the local auto parts store to find out we then have to modify it anyway?

Hobo: What motto do you live by?

Sam: My old man always told us as kids, ‘Don’t Die Wondering’. That has always been the motto that I live by. You want something? Get it. You want to do something? Do it. Life’s to short to not do what you want to, who knows what’s coming around the next corner.

Hobo: What’s next for you?

Sam: Apart from my recent business venture (Veenbaas Mechanical), I am currently looking at a Pre Unit Triumph that’s for sale, pretty well sold on it but is proving difficult to go buy with all these restrictions going on in Victoria and not able to travel. If all goes well this will hopefully be my next project. After seeing Jimmy Staig’s green Pre Unit at the Boogaloo Invitational in 2017, I had to have one. Fast forward 3 years and my good buddy Luke Wallace’s Blue Pre Unit has sold me on them, in my opinion one of the most perfectly executed Triumph choppers I have seen. 

Thanks for the time Sam. One of a dying breed; a gentleman and a good bloke. And that shag pile roof lining is absolutely ace. Cheers!

Photos by Sam Veenbaas and A.V Aspect.

You can get in contact with Sam via his Facebook (Veenbaas Mechanical) or at the number below: