Yeah, another personal web page.  Nothing more than a shot at cheap ego fulfillment - but then, I've always had a cheap ego.  And, I'm just the kind of person who'd happily inflict himself on anyone.  OK. where do we start?  Let's try the usual - a quick thumbnail biography, followed by a smattering of likes and dislikes.  Draw your own conclusions.

Personal Bio:

Who Am I?:  The name's Syke.  Period.  Christian name is George R. Paczolt, Jr., but that's only used for checks, legal papers, and a whole lot of stuff I normally prefer not to deal with.

Birth and Quick History:  9 July 1950.  You do the math.  Lived the first 48 years of my life in western Pennsylvania, and most of that in a coal and steel town called Johnstown.  Decided I needed a change of pace in 1998 and moved, been living pretty well ever after.  Married since May of 2000 (second time) and now living in Montpelier, VA, 30 miles northwest of Richmond.  Just Patti, myself, one cat (Killian), six motorcycles and four bicycles (more about that at a later date.

Astrological sign: Falling Rock Zone.

Physical attributes: Blond to light brown hair, blue eyes, just under 5'-11" tall, 172 pounds.  Tattoos on both shoulders (dragons on each shoulder, with a "Triumph" logo on the left, and a "Phoenix Riders M/C" on the right underneath each dragon).

Employment: Have done a number of things ranging from produce truck driver, through semi-professional photographer (newspaper stringer, weddings, and a bit of professional porn - easier and better money than weddings), steelworker,  computer repairman (NEVER again), Mental Health counselor (got a couple of degrees in that department), professional costumer (former owner of Syke's Sutlering, the largest pre-18th century reenactment sutlery in the US), and various positions in local motorcycle dealerships: formerly a Ducati parts manager, currently a Honda parts department employee.

Not too bad for a guy who entered college to go into the Roman Catholic priesthood.

Things I enjoy: Port.  Good cigars.  British beer, served warm.  Picking on the politically correct.  Living in any manner that I'm 'not supposed to'.  Heavy metal.  Industrial.  Baroque string quartets.  Biker movies.  Guns, especially black powder muzzle-loaders.  Good books (mainly motorcycle related, histories and mysteries).

If you haven't guessed from the header, I eat, sleep, live and breathe motorcycles.  Period.  After the usual, "I wanna bike but mommy won't let me", stage back in my high school days, followed by the "I can't raise the money" stage in college, I finally got my first bike in 1976.  Nothing much, just a Kawasaki G3-SS, 100cc two-stroke street bike.  Outgrew that very quickly and bought a used '72 Honda CB350 twin.  Caffed it within the following year.  This is where it REALLY started. (More on this further down the page.)

When I say I ride motorcycles, I mean I RIDE them.  49 weeks of the year.  In sun, rain, heat, and cold.  Which is why I moved from Pennsylvania in the first place.  The only legitimate excuses for not riding are:

1.  Snow (little matter of slipperiness).
2.  Rain and the temperature going below 35 degrees (ditto).
3.  Whatever I have to carry cannot possibly fit into two saddlebags, a topbox, or bungeed to the framework.  Which means I do own a pickup truck and Jeep for the remaining three weeks of the year, plus re-enactment trips.  And on the rare occasions that I trailer a bike, I trailer two - just to justify the effort.

Things that Piss Me Off:  Liberals.  The Politically Correct.  Anyone who's determined to make me live in a certain way, 'for my own good'.  Anti-smokers.  Liberals.  Animal rights whackos (which I consider the ultimate in cowards - they won't risk their necks where human rights are still being trampled upon, but, boy, they'll sure protest the circus).  Gun control activists.  Did I mention liberals?

I'm a Rocker.  Yeah, as in Rockers and Mods.  If that statement doesn't make any sense to you, rent the movie "Quadrophrenia", although I'll warn you that you're seeing the story from the lying, shit-assed scooter riding Mod point of view.  Better yet, get hold of a copy of "The Leather Boys".  It's not an easy movie to find, but worth seeing.

If neither of these are available, then a quick explanation is necessary.  Try: hopped up fifties or sixties British vertical twins, clubman bars and rear set foot pegs.  Studded leather jackets with enameled badges laid on thick enough to approximate armor.  Doing the 'ton' on a bike that'll still out handle (though not out accelerate) a current 600 sportbike on a tight, twisty road.  Living the past with a fervor not often found in the present.  Living with a bike from a time when it was a commitment to own a motorcycle, not just something you do on the weekends to be fashionable.  I grew up thinking "biker" and "rocker" were synonymous.  Realized later there were a - few - differences.

Got out of that one intact, and six months later, six of the survivors of the BOV decided to reform as the Phoenix Riders M/C.  They had a good seven year run in Johnstown.  Times, people, and opportunities change, however.  The Phoenix Riders M/C has became the Johnstown Chapter of the West Penn Outlaws, and I had my chance to put Charlie on my back.  Unfortunately, living about 300 miles away kind of makes it difficult to make meetings, parties, keep up with club requirements, mandatory trips, etc., plus I don't think I've got the single-minded determination to live up to the Outlaws expectations, so I passed on the chance - not without a LOT of regrets.  The Phoenix Riders M/C itself will continue as a legal entity, so both the name and patch are claimed.

For myself, it wasn't a pleasant experience.  I'd had a patch on my back for 12 years, and I didn't like hanging it up.  As I found out at Thunder in the Valley 2003, people now bump into you when you're in a crowded bar.  I'd forgotten what that felt like.  Still consider the Outlaws among my family.  If one needs my help, he's got it.  No questions asked. 

Happily life has taken one of those fortuitous changes and there's a patch on my back once again.  This time it belongs to an old Richmond club, the Deranged Few M/C.  They go back about 25-30 years, went semi dormant back in the mid-90's when most of the membership went over to the Pagans.  The reorganization is headed by an old member named Buzzard who I've known for a lot of years of Triumph riding and Civil War study.  Life is good again.  And the Outlaws have moved into Virginia, so life could get interesting again.

The Children: No, not the usually snotty troublesome little rug rats.  One of the greater joys in my life is to have never fathered any of the little bastards.  In this case, I'm talking about my bikes.  I'll be putting pictures in of each bike, all the present ones, and as many of the past ones as possible.  And since I'm incredibly lazy, you get back to this page by using your "BACK" key.  I'm not one for spending all sorts of time doing fancy stuff on a web page.

Banshee: My long haul bike, a 1995 Triumph Trident 900.  God's Own Motorcycle.

Bang: Back to basics once again.  1971 Triumph Tiger.  My daily rider around town and on trips to The Doghouse.  And another case of trouble . . . . 

Chug: Back to my roots - 1998 Harley Springer Softail.  I'd forgotten how much I enjoy those bike.

Lil One: My high school dream bike.  It only took me 30 years to get one. 1969 Honda Super 90.

Pidge: This weekend is bank holiday, so let's grab the mates and head down for the coast.  There's a shite load of scooter riding ponces just asking to be reminded of the proper order of things . . . . . .  Bonneville.  'Nuff said.

The Scout: A moment when you learn that you don't know shit about riding a motorcycle, after all.  So I'm learning, and it's a very slow process.  1930 Indian 101 Scout.

There's one other that isn't going to be making these pages for awhile, until I get it rebuilt - a 1975 Honda TL250 trials bike.  This is a rolling basket case given to me (free!) by one of my customers at the Honda shop, engine is solid, clutch needs a lot of work, and cosmetics are, well, what you'd usually expect for a rolling basket case.  I might just start messing with some vintage observed trials in the coming year

Bikes From the Past: A basic rule of life is, "The Garage Always Changes".  Here's some fondly remembered parts of my life - gone but definitely not forgotten.

Links: Places that are reasonably important to me - or - if you find me even slightly interesting, there's a lot you'll enjoy on these pages:

Outlaws M/C - They're 1%ers, look mean, nasty, and full of trouble.  They ARE - IF you're determined to be an asshole.  I've always found them to be among the most honest and forthright people on the planet.  Just drop your preconceptions and get to know them.  You might lose your tolerance for the straight world.

Triumph - It's the factory web site for the best damned bikes in creation.  Worth a visit.

This site is always under construction, assuming my laziness doesn't get in the way of what I'd like to put up (the last six months is a prime example).  Queries, comments, nasty notes, obscene proposals (women only, please)?  Drop me a line at: sykerocker@yahoo.com