Free Wallpaper Ford Harley Davidson F-150

Erase from your memory the F-150 Lightning, SVT's tire-smoking sports car/pickup. For 2010, SVT went the extreme opposite direction with the F-150 SVT Raptor: A mogul-jumping, off-road desert runner. Raising the number of F-150 models to nine is the Harley-Davidson F-150 edition, which features 22-inch-diameter polished, forged aluminum wheels, chrome exhaust tips and Harley-Davidson graphics and logos on just about every available space.

Existing models get several new features, too. A chrome billet grille is available on the XLT Chrome package, a chrome mesh grille insert comes on the Lariat Chrome package and black tubular running boards are available on the XL Regular Cab and SuperCab.

The first F-150 SVT Raptors will come with the 320-hp, 390 lb.-ft. torque, 5.4-liter V8 offered in other F-150s. Available later will be a 6.2-liter V8 with approximately 400 hp that'll launch the SVT Raptor into low-earth-orbit if you can find the right jump. Just make sure to nail the landing after re-entry. In addition to the Raptor's 6.2L V8 (which will come with a six-speed automatic), the 2010 F-150 is available with three engines, all V-8s: a 320-horsepower, 5.4-liter; a three-valve-per-cylinder 292-horsepower, 4.6-liter; and a two-valve-per-cylinder 248-horsepower 4.6-liter.

The first two come with a six-speed automatic, while the two-valve 4.6L is mated to a four-speed automatic. A two-wheel-drive F-150 with the 4.6-liter, three-valve engine is EPA estimated at 21 miles per gallon on the government's highway driving cycle. A 2WD 5.4-liter will provide 20 mpg on the highway.

Some keys to successful desert race trucks are long suspension travel to soak up bumps and keep the drive wheels on the ground, robust shock absorbers with extra fluid reservoirs to prevent overheating, and reinforced suspension components to stand up to the constant pounding. The Raptor has over 12 inches of travel in the rear suspension and over 11 up front. While long for a stock vehicle, it's far less than half of pure race trucks, so don't challenge Robbie Gordon to a desert duel.

The Raptor is equipped with specially designed Fox Racing Shox shock absorbers, designed to maintain their performance over miles of washboard surfaces. To take the pounding of a sprint through the desert, Ford added a beefier rear axle housing and a completely new front suspension with strong upper and lower control arms and stronger tire rods, among other enhancements. The Raptor also has a seven-inch wider track - the distance between tires on the same axle - to improve stability while bouncing between the sagebrush and yucca plants.

For situations where deep sand or mud slow progress, the Raptor has a locking rear differential. In addition, selecting the off-road mode disables the electronic driver aids (electronic stability control and traction control) and switches the logarithm of the anti-lock brakes to a more off-road- appropriate setting. The Raptor is fitted with giant 315/70R17 BFGoodrich All-Terrain TA/KO tires. These 35-inch diameter tires add ground clearance to help avoid contact with rocks. Just in case that's not enough clearance, the Raptor comes standard with heavy-duty skid plates to protect the oil pan, transmission and other key bits under the vehicle.

Visually, the Raptor has a unique grille, front bumper and fenders. Inside, there's a revised console. The steering wheel features an orange stripe at the top, similar to those found on NASCAR racecars, to help the driver know how far the wheel is turned in case he loses track in the excitement. The Raptor is available only as a four-wheel-drive SuperCab with a 5.5-foot bed.

Studies have shown that many Harley riders like to tow their motorcycles to events, rather than eat June bugs all the way there and back. And the Ford F-150 is one of their most popular choices for that tow work, with Ford's Trailer Sway Control. Whether they know it or not, the 2010 Ford F-150's biggest advantage for Harley pullers is how Ford has reprogrammed the pickup's electronic stability control system computer to recognize when the trailer begins to sway then react to quell trailer motion by applying individual brakes or reducing acceleration. Also, an optional in-dash trailer brake controller prevents the bruised knees and scraped shins common with aftermarket controllers. And let's not forget... there are Harley-Davidson logos on the sides, front fenders, tailgate, ignition key, door trim panels, the windshield and a few other places.

The F-150 continues its reign as the "favorite" among pickups. The SVT Raptor and Harley-Davidson F-150 editions will only add to that lead.

2010 Ford F-150 News - SVT Raptor, Harley-Davidson ಎದಿತಿಒಂಸ್

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Handlebar to Handlebar | UMQGAYCEYPWJ

Just this morning

Cruising out of Lake Tahoe
To Sacramento
With friend Alonzo "Coyote" Munguia
Certain safe stretches
Based on ten years of riding together
We go handlebar - to - handlebar
Coyote on left side of lane, me on right
Motorcycles... Harley's... side-by-side
Synchronized rumble of pipes
Images and shadows reflecting off one another
Trusting in skills and awareness
You have seen or heard this before
Countless times as in:
"Foxhole buddies"
"Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid"
"Thelma and Louise" (grin)
"Wyatt and Billy" (Easy Rider)
Norma and Al Munguia
Judy and Butch Thomas
Julie and Tom Campbell
All know the good path and the value of friendship
Besides, you gotta' love those pipes!!!

Cold Bugs

Three of us, on baggers, hit a very cold Donner Pass on Interstate 80 at around 10:30 a.m. Fortunately, we had the necessary warm clothing along. Unfortunately, most of it was in our bags, but that didn’t stop us. We were too pumped to stop and change so we blasted through with great anticipation for the warmth we knew was waiting for us in Reno and points beyond. We also briefly paid tribute to the survivors of the Donner Party and their incredible appetites.

At the top of the pass a swarm of pretty butterflies was darting merrily about, enjoying the brisk morning air. We hit them doing about 70… cold bugs splattering everywhere. There were big splotches of yellow on our pristine bikes. We were suddenly hauling some very cold, dead bugs.

Aw, what the hell, entomology and insect control is a standard sideline of every biker. Something we like to sink our 'teeth' into. .... so to speak.

Rackem!

In January of this year we wrestled
with issues of an aging biker but rebounded big time with a "Hipshot!" (click on this for a rerun: (Cairo Practica II and III).
We did great with that shot.. going some four months without significant discomfort and only walking like a gimp about 75% of the time instead of the usual 100.
We expected it back and it came with a vengeance but now, yes now... we have shot that puppy again! Yes, just a few days ago we went through Hipshot II so now we are loaded with cortisone and somewhat giddy with relief. (I am even more annoying than usual when I am running around giddy).
Why, Molly The World's Greatest Golden Retriever and I even went jogging... for the first time in months. In the interim I have been trying to teach her to to do the elliptical machine but she hasn't figured out what to do with the two extra paws yet. Isn't that just like a dog?!
Anyway, in my elated state I am now planning a bike trip of some 3,000 miles that will have me chasing some of son Tyler's tour concerts in Washington and South Dakota. I think the Coyote will join me for part of the trip and I will also get to see some old pals along the way. It also puts me on a direct path with the Mother of All Biker Rallies, Sturgis. Yes, with work and hip diversions it has been three years since I made it there. I miss South Dakota, the Black Hills, Rushmore and The Rally.
It is worthy to note that there is some question as to whether my absence from Sturgis is cause for the precipitous drop in attendance over the past couple of years. That's probably true but when someone questions me about it I just lay it off on the economy...

So, if I am to make this trip, I must have a rack that is strong enough to hold my tour bags and now I do! I picked one up from my local Harley dealer, somehow figured out the installation instructions and now I am there! All I have to do is dig up my electronic tour checklist and started running it. When I am done I will be fully packed and ready to go. It has been far too long since I have been on the road. To say I am pumped would be a massive understatement. So let's rack'em and hit it!

To your right... my rack mounted and ready. Someone please explain to me how it could get any better than this...

Two Battleships

Woke late in Lake View, Oregon

Trying to time it for "Coffee and rolls in the lobby"
As there was no coffee available in the room.
(Hey, I am roughing it out here okay?!)
But still, it was 5:30 and rather than wait for the "7:00 AM" treats.
I hit the dispensing machine and bought a diet coke.
At 6:30 I was on my way
The air was cool, but I had layers on.
I was on a stretch of US 395 that was so desolate...
It was so desolate that I saw two cars, one truck,
One unidentifiable road kill, two jackrabbits and one cotton tail
On maybe a 70 mile stretch.
It was stunning country though, with high desert and prairies surrounded by distant mountains, the sweet smell of sagebrush (yup, there is always some of that out here) and a highway in
excellent condition.
At one point I saw two majestic

ridgelines... they made me think of the prows of two giant World War I era battleships, moored to the prairie forever. (photo right)
I was looking for coffee, breakfast and gas and didn't come across it for 90 miles.
Not far past Alkali Flat (nothing there but a BLM building)... at Wagontire, Oregon, I saw it.
A little restaurant with a couple of gas pumps in front of it and the ramshackle remnants of what was once a motel.
I pulled up to the pumps. One was gas and one was diesel. The one with gas only had one selection, "87" octane. Everything else was taped over. There was a piece of large masking tape on it that said, "$4.00". I was really low and knew I was 30-50 miles from the next possible pit stop so I decided to go for it. A lady came out and unlocked the pump and I put about three gallons in the HOG. I apologized to her (the HOG that is) profusely because she is accustomed to nothing but premium.
I then followed the lady into her little restaurant and she fixed me one of most bodacious breakfasts you can imagine. The coffee was just right and the ham was over a half inch thick. It covered half the breakfast plate... biggest individual portion of ham I have ever seen. The eggs, "over medium" were cooked perfectly and there was a large portion of hash browns... all of that accompanied by a couple of slices of sourdough toast and a small jar of homemade strawberry jelly. I just couldn't quite knock off all that ham but I tried. She asked me how my eggs were, can you imagine? I told here they were perfect and there and then decided to commemorate it all in this blog. Her name is Cheryl and she lives out there in the middle of nowhere. Stop in sometime!
I went another 300 miles or so beyond Wagontire today,
On highway 395 North.
Through country that reminded me of US Highway 50,
"The Lonliest Highway in America".
Through other country that reminded me of the Black Hills.
I straightened out hundreds of "twisties" along the way,
curves with 35, 40 and 45 miles an hour marked for speed limits.
I would come in high, throw the inside of the handlebars at the pavement, tilt my head to the center line and whip around them, dropping inside and accelerating out wide to the center, typically at 20 over or more.
Sometimes there were enough in a row that I could set up a rhythm...
It was very similar to the back and forth motion used by a slalom skier.
When you do this, you are conscious of how your feet hang off the floorboards.
Often, it will be the bottom of your foot that touches pavement rather than the outside edge of the chrome floorboard... in either case, they are telling you to back off the throttle a little. Or else.
It's good here. Now. In the room.
Cooled down and looking forward to tomorrow's ride.

Cattle Drive

I was in the high desert.

Between Alkali Flat and Wagontire
Cattle in groups of 10-50 were heading along the fence line
In the opposite direction.
This went on for a what seemed like several miles.
There could have easily been a thousand head.
I couldn't see anyone making them move.
I couldn't figure them.
When I hit breakfast at the world famous
(Well maybe not but it should be.) Wagontire cafe,
I asked Cheryl about them.
"Yes, there are riders driving them.
Three riders and two dogs.
They are moving them down to Juniper Creek
So they don't have to haul water as far to them."
Not long after, I was back in civilization.
Or was I?
In retrospect, I think Wagontire may have had better qualifications.
Spokane is a beautiful town,
growing, vibrant and busy.
I spent time there with an old friend, Jack Ohl of
more than thirty years and I was able to catch two of son Tyler's tour shows.
(Plug time: www.aproots.com)
It was good to get back on the road today though.
To look for more cattle drives.
To see beautiful Lake Coeur d'Alene.
To feel the crisp mountain air.
To straighten the sweeping Interstate twisties.
To track down another of the world's greatest restaurants.
To be back in civilization.
(Note to The Coyote - yes, I promised I would make you suffer for not figuring out a way to join me on this trip... I visited Montana Harley Davidson today. They had a great t-shirt. I bought one. They had your size too. I did not buy you one. Yeah, yeah I know you will get me back by buying that 2010 Sunglo Red HD Street Glide and I will definitely be gritting my teeth over it but I will keep getting these digs in while I can.)

Panther Piss - Todays Observations

Panther Piss

Yup, that's what it is.
Cheap gasoline that is.
When we were kids we often had to locate the cheapest gas station around and buy their gas.
We called it "panther piss".
A fine alliteration to be sure.

It wasn't the octane that warranted this classification in our minds.
It was more so the look of the dealership that made us question the quality of what came out of the pump.
(photo right - 87 octane)
Today, I ran low on gas again.
I was on a fairly remote stretch of Interstate 90.
So I had to stop and take what was available.
87 octane only again... panther piss
I was thinking "My Hog is not going to forgive me for this".
I just put in a couple of gallons, honest!
Just enough to get me to Butte,
Where I loaded her up with the good stuff (91 octane).
She rewarded me by handling like a dream all day.
I rewarded her back by stopping in Butte and getting her an oil change,
"Synthetic only please".
Ohhhhh Montana!
Western Montana serves as proof that God rides a Harley.
After all, he must have created this country so he could ride through it now and then.
The mountains, the enormous sky... it's all there before, on, and after the Continental Divide.
Better than you will see it anywhere.

Through Missoula, Bozeman, Butte and Billings.
The Interstate was smooth and fast,
Posted speed limit... 75.
I cruised it at around 7 over... all day.
(photo right..."the shadow knows...")
Whitehall
At the cafe Elena,
I had trouble with the zipper on my vest.
The waitress came whipping around the counter
and fixed it for me, muttering that it always "happens to my husband".
They had huckleberry jam for the toast.
"Can I stay here forever?"
67 degrees at 11 AM.
I was thinking I was in heaven.
On Second Thought
When old pal Jack Ohl took me bass fishing Sunday evening,
He outfished me 4 to 2.
Two of the bass he caught were right around 15 inches long
And weighed a pound and a half.
Now I ask you...
Is that any way to treat an old friend?
An old friend you haven't seen in 10-15 years?!
I think not.
More importantly, this serves as testimony to the versatility of the typical Harley rider.
That he can graciously handle this type of abuse.

Yellowstone Harley Davidson
Located in the Bozeman, Montana area.
These folks are truly a class act.
They had a drive-through tent set up.
It was there to protect visiting bikers and their rides from the weather.
When I asked the service manager if I could get an oil change
He volunteered that he would do it himself and fit it in between counter customers.
Around a half hour later, I was outta there... a happy camper
Thanks Yellowstone HD!
Around 400 miles today.
Tomorrow, another 400 miles or so...
Then Sturgis briefly and on to home base in Rapid City!

(Note for el Coyote - I visited three Harley dealerships today, Montana HD, Yellowstone HD and Beartooth HD. I bought you no shirts. None. Nada. el Zippo. I am hoping to visit a number of other dealerships where I can also purchase no shirts for you.)

The Chance

Working my way through the mountains, fields and prairies. On my way from Billings, Montana to Rapid City, South Dakota. It will be just short of a 400 mile day. There is rain everywhere. Huge dark clouds are all over the horizon.

(photo: TC's HOG covered with a lot of grey crud)

I am trying to time my trip on the Interstate to avoid getting drenched. The highway curves gently to accommodate a 75 mile an hour speed limit. The highway curves often to accommodate the transition from mountains to valleys and back. I catch a few sprinkles but not quite enough to warrant full blown rain gear.

Just out of Gillette, Wyoming I spot a large thunder cloud on the horizon directly in front of me. I pull over and quickly set up... adding a fifth layer to torso and a pair of leather leather chaps. It was already a cool day, running around 50 degrees all the way so I had on lots of gear. Two t-shirts, a poly fleece with the mandatory Harley embroidery on it, my trusty Harley leather jacket adorned with amulets of all sorts and then adding a "Jen-U-Whine" Harley Davidson rain jacket. I also have heavy gloves and under my helmet, a poly fleece face mask.

As I approached the storm the highway often appeared to directly face, then veer away from the storm. With that, I was at times relieved that I might stay dry and then, with the next turn disappointed that I would run smack into it.
It was a Chance Dance with the weather.

I was reminded of a comment I once heard from a fellow member of the Sacramento Harley Owner's Group. Randy Owen was briefing us all on an upcoming 1,500 mile "Iron Butt" ride. These rides stop only for gas and essentials. Randy said, "People often ask me about the weather and I say; Yes, we will have some." It was another way of saying you want to try and prepare for anything.

I sort of lost the Dance as I hit the fringe of the storm. Caught not too much water but did catch a lot of oily residue from vehicles in front of me. It is a light gray mixture of oil and water that gets on and in everything and is a bitch to remove. Nonetheless I hit Sturgis during a sunny break in the weather and immediately headed for Sturgis Harley Davidson to get my commemorative t-shirt fix. I was one of thousands who will do the same during the next week and a half.
Shortly thereafter, I was in Rapid City sipping a Corona Light with fellow biker, long time pal and brother-in-law Butch Thomas. Butch is among the world's luckiest riders who happens to live in the middle of biker mecca.
The Chance Dance. All bikers do it. Few prevail against the weather. Yesterday, I was fortunate enough to spend 95% of my time dry.
Thanks to the Big Harley Rider In The Sky.

Snake River Harley-Davidson

You see it’s hard to ride through a town that has a Harley dealership and not pay a visit. The dyed-in-the-wool fanatic has to stop in to take a careful look at the T-shirts and everything else on display, including a hunt for perfect chrome and leather. It’s a rite of some kind... like going to Mecca. I love the smell, sound and spectacle of it and I just ignore the rest of my senses (primarily the 'common one) when I am in a shop.

I like to say I am making the stop to get my proverbial “fanatic card punched.” In fact, one time I made the comment in a Harley shop with other customers around and an awestruck listener asked if there was such a card (are you paying attention here Harley marketing folks?) I said “No. But if there was I would have one."

As my most noble and wise brother-in-law and fellow Harley rider, Butch Thomas, says when it comes to things related to Harley-Davidson®, “You gotta do what you gotta do.” To add emphasis I say, "It's fanaticism. It is what it is". So the Snake River H-D dealership in Twin Falls, Idaho was on our list and we made the stop.

You also need to know that the collection of dealer logos on the backs of black T-shirts is a statement of art that is carefully practiced among Harley riders. My riding buddy, Al "Coyote" Munguia, bought a bunch of T-shirts. That’s the way it is out there on the road... struggling to make it to the next T-shirt stop.

I know, I know, we're not talking about the Louvre or the Met here but hey, if I am wearing it on my back this is how I want it to look...

www.badassbook.com

et pourquoi AIRSTREAM

C'est vrai que cela semble tellement original et inhabituel que l'on peut se poser la question;

Il fallait trouver une solution de remplacement pour passer ses vacances dans le sud de le FRANCE, suite à la vente de notre maison secondaire de CAVALAIRE, pres de SAINT TROPEZ:

Nous sommes en 2002 et toutes les solutions sont envisagées; location sur la côte d'azur... camping car ou même camping... pas vraiment trés alléchant.

La solution du camping étant la moins onéreuse, il nous fallait un "certain" confort . De plus étant trés déco US des années 50/60...

... aimant aussi l'art déco, les diners américains...

... les juke-box, les néons...

...et le streamline , ma compagne Leïla eu l'idée géniale de ces caravanes américaines en aluminium qu'elle avait vu , en arriére- plans lors de défilés de mode ou photos de collection couturiers. J'etais d'accord avec l'idée, encore fallait-il voir de quoi il s'agissait, de sa disponibilité en France et du prix , bien sur.

Alors démarre la recherche sur internet pour découvrir qu'il s'agit de caravanes américaines , AIRSTREAM et qui possédent donc ce look incroyable, tout en rondeur, en aluminium, et d'un comfort... à l'américaine; bref le rêve se profile à l'horizon, mais nous sommes pas arrivés aux bouts de nos peines...