From Index Page. Hey, what could be nicer than to wake up in the morning on some far-away, sunrise beach, nestled in your sleeping bag, your biker babe in your arms? You are spread out in the lea of your Harley there just waiting to take you anywhere you want to go. Then after enjoying a nice morning piece, you take a swim, dry off and fire up your Evo for the day's ride. Just a little way down the coast, you find a nice diner where you two can get a hearty breakfast and a steaming cup of hot coffee. As you are setting there sipping, you hear the bark and crack of a bunch of bikes pulling into the lot and parking just outside the window you're setting by. Lookie there, red ones, blue ones, green ones, silver ones, gold ones, and black ones. Some are customs while others are choppers. There are even a couple of sporties all decked out with lots of fancy and chrome. One of the bikers looks mighty familiar, so you go out to see. Sure enough, he's a brother you rode with last summer up in Seattle, and it's sure good to see him. The same goes for him, so he introduces you to the other riders. You all go back inside, and you introduce them to your partner and push some tables together so everyone can eat and get to know one another. Breakfast over, you ask where they are going, and they grin and say "Mexico"! They are heading down the coast to the Baja for a couple of weeks of sun, sand and lots of tequilla. Your brother from up the road says, "Hey, why don't you two come with us for a good time?" Well, you can't think of a reason not to, so you join up with them and soon head South down the coast road into wonderland. You spend the night partying in San Diego and pick up some more riders for the trip. One of the sisters has a friend with a big house up in the hills, so you all camp there for the night ready to ride out in the morning. The day dawns bright with a gentle wind off the ocean, just a perfect day for riding. After breakfast, everyone gasses up and heads on down to Tia Juana, bikes sounding like rolling thunder. There's no hurry and no worry, so you cut over and spend the night on the Beach. Everyone bought Mexican Insurance on their bikes, so no worries. No one would dare touch the bikes for fear of broken knees or worse. You meet some friendly Mexicans on the beach who approach with several buckets of fresh, squirming, still-green, live lobsters, so you hire them to cook up dinner right there on the beach. They are more than happy to throw a party, so there you go! You send a runner with a trike into town to get some fixins,' beer and lots of tequilla and limes to go with the lobsters, and the party is on. Now some folks think that all bikers like to do is party, but that ain't true as bikers only party when they ain't riding. Of course, some time has to be spent polishing up all that road jewelry and cleaning out and detoxifying their systems with a little beer. You know how it is... Then naturally, the women need to be tended to, so bikers are never bored. The Mexicans seem to know everyone in town, so as the night wears on, people start showing up for a fun evening and even a group of mariachis show up with their instruments, figuring they can make a buck or two before the sun rises. You wouldn't believe all the women running around down there, so for sure, no one got lonely. Even the bikers who were riding solo found some company with the black-haired, flashing-eyed senoritas who turned out to be more than friendly. It's amazing what a little tiquilla can do when properly spread about. The Mexicans built fires down on the beach and cooked up big pots of corn and potatoes, and when the time was right, tossed in the fresh lobsters to mutter and turn bright red, as they boiled and billowed in the steaming pots until they were cooked to perfection in the bubbling broth. What a party, more and more people showed up, and the trike had to make a couple more runs to town for more beer and tiquilla. The party rolled on all night with moonlit rides up and down the beach where bad boy bikers stopped there on the sand and made love with the hot little senioritas who came to play or until they were either worn out or out of beer. All that vigorous love making can sure work up a killer of a thirst. Just thinking about it is making me thirsty! Anyway, morning broke over the beach and found more people sleeping on the sand than in the rooms. The Mexicans were up early and fixed a big breakfast of huevos and bolillos (rolls) with lots of fruit, meant to perk everyone up who was still breathing. This was something like paradise, so the gang decided to spend another day just relaxing on the beach and playing little biker games. Some ventured into town to check it out and discovered some great restaurants and places to play the day away. You can get anything you want in Mexico. It's like being set free to do any number of neat things that you could never get away with up here in in the Northland. The Mexicans are a lot more realistic about living and making love than up here for instance. However, you can only do that so long so, after a while, everyone headed back to the beach for a little sport. There was a long white beach with nice white sand, so some of the bikers decided to hold drag races to pass the afternoon. Now drag racing on the beach is a whole lot different than drag racing on the asphalt. You just can't turn a big 120 horsepower evo loose on sand as you'd just spiral down on your ass looking silly, 'cause there ain't a whole lot of traction in sand. Some of the bikers found that out right quick. Drag racing on sand is a matter of feel, horse power against traction- believe it! You spin that throttle open, and you are on your ass, a situation that ain't gonna get you a lot of poontang after the sun goes down. No, drag racing on sand puts the rider back into the equation. Skill will more than likely be the winner, not horsepower. As the afternoon wore on, bikers were strung out all over the beach, some on their asses, others laughing their asses off, some just having a piece of ass. It was one hell of a day for starters, but you see how it is when you are a biker. You kinda follow the wind and see which way it blows your hair.