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Author: Rob Brooks

Vanessa Ruck: The Girl On A Bike, And A Mission

Vanessa Ruck is on a mission- To courageously squeeze every drop out of life, and to help others overcome their adversities and step into courageous living as well. To quote her directly, “I’m on a mission to prove nothing is impossible if you want it bad enough.” Gauging from the many adventures in her young life, and the inspiration she is to so many who know her and follow her travels, Vanessa is realizing her dream. She is the one and only, “The Girl On A Bike.”

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Long-Term Review: Harley-Davidson Nightster Special

Rolling up to a four-way stop in the left turn lane, I noticed an old white pickup truck pull up next to me on my right. As I glanced over, I saw a stocky bald guy with a goatee looking the Nightster over, mouth agape, tattooed forearm resting on his open window. After a moment, he muttered in a thick Southern accent, “Whut da hale??” I knew what he was thinking. I simply smiled then throttled off at my green turn arrow, to let him hear the sound I’m sure he didn’t expect from a Harley either.
This bike has elicited a similar reaction nearly everywhere we’ve ridden it.

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Happy Hunting

As the Royal Enfield-led press junket rolled out of the Laguna Mountains back toward San Diego, our group of 12 riders hopped on I-5 to merge with the fast flowing traffic. A couple of us toward the back of the caravan got separated from the main group while negotiating onto the freeway, so I found an opening, then throtted and upshifted hard into the moto mayhem. The spunky little 350cc single howled through its right side exhaust, and once in top (5th) gear, I pinned the throttle in an open lane, gunning for the front group of riders already about a half mile up ahead. The J-Series thumper took a deep breath, then started accelerating up to top end. Roaring down the interstate, the Hunter was stalking and apprehending automobile after automobile, in its quest for peak power. By the time I caught the group, the little beast had pegged 82 mph, rather impressive for so small a displacement motorbike.
“What a pint-size hooligan!” I shouted in my helmet.

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My Mechanical Mistress

I have a “girl friend”, a separate love interest, that I simply cannot keep my hands off of. This passionate affair dominates my life, is never far from my heart and mind, and oddly, my wife not only tolerates it, she approves, even encourages it. What a great woman.

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Three of a Kind

When editor-at-large Ted Edwards asked me several months ago if he and his cousin/riding buddy Dave could come spend a week riding over here in the southeast with us, I of course welcomed the opportunity. Ted had been urging us to get into more multi-motorcycle reviews, so I set to work on turning their time here into a 3-way bike comparo. I reached out to my contacts at several brands, and came up with a cool assortment of middleweight cruisers to ride and review together- the brand new Harley-Davidson Nightster Special, the Indian Scout Rogue, and the Honda Rebel 1100T. These machines hold enough similarities and yet differences that I figured a 3-way ride and comparison would be quite interesting and entertaining, especially with these two clowns coming into town.

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Legendary Bikes: 1979 Honda CBX

I was attending the annual Meltdown Vintage Motorcycle Show in Hendersonville, NC a few years back with my father, and as we walked among the old bikes lined up along the streets, I stopped and gawked at one of the wildest looking engines I’d ever seen shoehorned into a factory motorcycle before- a 1979 Honda CBX six-cylinder beast. I’d viewed them in pictures and a couple of museums before, but seeing one parked by the curb there, with its owner sitting behind in a small lounge chair sipping a local brew, I just had to linger and chat while my dad wandered off to check out some old Harleys.

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A Day At The Races

When I learned that the American Flat Track series was returning to Georgia, and Senoia Raceway no less, I knew I had to get down for the weekend. I wanted to witness the races of course, after a few years with no races in my state, but even more, I yearned to revisit the track of my youth. I spent the weekend at my mother’s place (my father passed away in 2021), not 12 minutes from the track. I arrived at the raceway early enough Saturday to get good parking, roam the paddock, say hello to some friends, then go sit in the stands where we sat as kids that very first race night ages ago. Decades later with AFT press credentials, I now ventured out through the gate down onto the infield, to drink it all in before the early practices and qualifying would begin. Standing in the center of the “bull ring”, looking 360 around the oval bowl, the childhood anticipation was welling up in me again, an old familiar sensation of, “When’s the races starting, Dad?!”

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Electric Adventure

Turning right onto a state road near my home, I suddenly caught a glimpse in my left periphery of a pickup truck topping the hill behind me, his headlights bearing down rapidly in my mirrors. “Oh crap,” I exclaimed, as I rolled hard on the throttle to put distance between us. The Zero DSR/X responded instantly with arm stretching torque, nearly lifting the front with eager acceleration. 0-70 mph in seconds, leaving the four wheeled interloper far behind.

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