We all wake up every day doing what we have to for the chance to earn the dough to make our motorcycles great—to make them faster, better looking, quicker off the line, best in show.
The life of the customizing king never rests. Any custom motorcycle enthusiast will share with you his sleepless nights next to the wife perfecting paint schemes and accent pieces in his head at 3 a.m.
By the time a bike is done, the restless, the few who know the struggle of a constant project mentality, will share with you how this bike has been built in their heads 85 times over and when it’s reached completion. There’s only more. No less. No time passes, and there is no rest for the two-wheeled wicked. This customizing and fabrication disease affects the most raw and unique people to it, as well as the result-driven, the detail-oriented, and, last but not least, the commonly overworked and underpaid.
We drown our minds in high-proof spirits to rest and still at 6 .a.m are poring over what the latest and greatest is being featured upon the pages of numerous publications and social media posts.
The greatest part of this disease is the connection to all effected. We speak in tongues to the plagued while the outsiders look on in confusion. It’s a labor of love and the project never ends. Custom motorcycles give means of seeing the end of a corporate workday. They give hope and a meaning to countless hours of frustration, thrown wrenches, and various words of disgust and profanity.
Grind and hustle to survive. Sacrifice to find meaning in this life. Life is motorcycles, and stock sucks.