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What sets the human species apart from all others? I believe it is not that we have a superior brain or opposing thumbs, it is language, our ability to communicate with words.

I recently learned that a crow, a bird with a high level of intelligence, makes a different sound if a human is approaching, than if a cat is in the vicinity. It appears that crows have a simple language, but nothing close to the sophistication of human words that can not only be spoken, but written too.

I prefer the written word. It can be edited, whereas often the spoken word comes out and cannot be taken back. The old saying, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me,” is seldom true.

Physical pain we tend to forget, but when someone says something nasty those words are locked away in our memory bank to be brought back along with the hurt, over and over again.

It takes a strong person to recognize that these were only words and it is our choice to relive them. It is not easy, if I say “Don’t think of elephants," the first thing that will come to your mind is a large grey animal with big ears and a trunk.

Fond memories can be re-told to others and relived in our own mind. Bad memories often get re-told and are exaggerated, made worse than they originally were. The cleaver lines and comebacks we recite in re-telling the story, are not the words we actually said, but rather what we wish we had said.

Told over and over the stories eventually become our reality. Others will steal our stories, make them their own and retell them until they become their reality. This is how urban myths are born.

“Talk is cheap,” is another common expression. Some can talk for hours and say nothing, certain politicians have honed this to an art form. Words may be cheap, but say the wrong thing and it can cost a politician or other public figure dearly.

People who talk incessantly miss out on a lot. For one thing by talking continuously they are not letting others express their views. Then when the other person speaks they are not listening because they are thinking of what they will say next.  

It is only by listening to others that communication pays off. A thought from outside our own mind can spark an entirely new line of thinking.

Words can be powerful at times but other times are inadequate. When someone dies, even with writing skills, words will fail me. Had I been there I would not need words, just to listen, hold a hand or give a hug would have been enough.

Words are not always necessary, and though cheap should not be wasted. Words can build us up, or knock us down. They can be both our blessing and our curse.


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Men in White Suits (A Short Story.)

I noticed the men in white suits always worked in twos. One tall, heavy, an older man in his late forties, maybe fifty.

He stood in the doorway, arms folded, like he was guarding it. Stopping me from leaving, which I wasn’t, but never-the-less intimidating.

A younger man in his early twenties, not much older than me was preparing something on a cart. He turned and handed me some liquid in a small cup.

“Here, drink this.”

It tasted bitter. The young white coat patted the top of a gurney.

“Jump up here.” I did as he asked.

I lay there staring at the fluorescent ceiling lights. It was quiet except for muffled voices off in another room somewhere. I strained my head around to see if the white coats had left. The older one was still there in the doorway. ’The stereo-typical good cop-bad cop,’ I was thinking. Only they weren’t cops, but they represented the same thing. Authority.

I drifted into semi-consciousness. I was vaguely aware of more white suits crowding around me, strapping me to the gurney, placing something on my head, squeezing my face, and shoving a rubber plug in my mouth. Then a screeching sound like feedback through a loud speaker. Wheeeeeeeeeeeee.

For a brief moment zig-jag patterns of light danced left to right across my field of vision. Then nothing, I was unconscious. I awoke in what seemed like a few seconds later. I was still strapped down, but the room was empty. The lights overhead were turned off. There were no widows in the room, just the light through the open door to a corridor. 

The first thing I noticed was that I had pissed on myself. Urine soaked my back, and stung the insides of my thighs. My head felt like my brain was twice its normal size and was pushing my eyeballs out of their sockets.

“Hey,” I yelled, “Anybody there?”

The young white coat came back in the room, “How are you?” he asked. “Do you have a headache?”

“Yes, I have the mother of all headaches. What the fuck did you just do to me?”

“You had ECT, Electroconvulsive Therapy. It’s part of your treatment.”

“I pissed myself.”

“I see that, it’s not unusual. I’ll take you for a bath, and get you some clean pajamas.”

The older white suit suddenly materialized and began removing the restraints.

“Can you sit up? Here’s something for your headache.”

The young white suit helped me up and handed me two tablets and some water. I took them and lay back down. They pushed me down the corridor to a bathroom where they helped me out of my wet pajamas and into a warm bath.   


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Heathen Thoughts, and Whirled Peas

I do not subscribe to any particular religion but I am definitely not an atheist. I am more a devout Heathen.

In my book heathen is not a bad word, and heathens are not necessarily bad people, in the same way atheists are not automatically bad people.

Religion does not own the sole rights to morality, but unfortunately many followers of religions think they do. 

The Native Americans were called heathens by the early European settlers, but after making friends with several Native Americans, and studying their beliefs, from what I have learned, those heathens were probably closer to their Maker than many of the early white settlers.

I find it very interesting that the spiritual beliefs of the Native American have a common thread with the Australian Aborigine, with the Celtic and ancient British people, and those of primitive tribes that exist today in various parts of the world.

Their beliefs are all closely tied with nature and they all see themselves as a part of nature rather than separate from it, or somehow above it. I find it even more amazing when I consider that these many and various cultures existed at different times in history, in different parts of the globe, and many do not have a written language.

They obviously did not learn their beliefs from other cultures. These beliefs are intuitive rather than learned, in the same way a swallow or a salmon are not taught how to find their way back to the place of their birth, but travel by instinct.

What sold me on intuition was the realization that followed correctly, intuition cannot lie.


I think the problem humankind has, is that he is too intelligent for his own good. He thinks too much and reads too much second hand information, (Please include this.) rather than following his own intuition.

I find there is so much psycho-babble on the whole subject of spirituality, that it has become almost a new religion. (Or perhaps a New Age Religion.) People quote lines from various books, like quoting text from the Bible.

I have never had the desire to convert to a different religion. I look at another country that is predominantly of a different faith, and I ask myself. Do the people of that country have any less day-to-day problems than we do? Are they happier or more content with their lives? I can't see a huge difference, so I ask myself why bother swapping one set of rules to live by, for another.

I believe this much: There is one creative source in this Universe. When I see images from Iraq and other Middle Eastern countries on TV, I see palm trees. They look exactly the same as palm trees right here in South Carolina, so I find it logical to believe they came from the same source. I ask myself why people are killing each other over a different set of religious beliefs.

The atheist will say, “Prove to me there is a God.” I cannot, so will not even try. My intuition tells me to concentrate on things I do know, rather than look for answers to things I will never know. I believe in life. I know there is life, because I have life. I see little squirrels and birds outside my window as I write this. They also have life, along with all the trees and other plants I see.

But what is life? I cannot see it or touch it. Life is anything that dies when you stomp on it. Life is what keeps meat fresh without refrigeration. Because once life leaves a body, it will start to rot and decay, and man with all his cleverness and knowledge cannot reverse that and bring something back to life. So I believe in Life, and whatever It is that sustains life. (Note that “It” is capitalized.)

This heathen will not be in church on Sunday, I will be out riding my bike. My bike is a machine that becomes an extension of my body, and while I am riding, I am definitely connected to the road I am riding on. I am connected to the terrain, the wind and the elements. If everything I can see, smell, and touch came from one creative source, then just maybe I will connect with this same creative source. My Maker if you will.

I am not trying to convert anyone to a different belief for this simple reason. The beliefs I have are what was left when I dropped other beliefs that seemed illogical, and allowed my intuition to take over. Neither I nor anyone else have control over another's intuition, so I cannot convert or teach anyone anything.

So why am I even writing this. It is actually a re-write from something I wrote a few years ago. Writing my thoughts down, causes me to reaffirm and even rethink my beliefs. It keeps me on track. Hopefully it will entertain others, and give them food for their own thoughts, and fire up their own intuition.

A friend recently told me she had marched for Peace in the 1960s and had always dreamed of World Peace in her lifetime. Now she had come to the sad realization that she would not see her dream materialize. In fact the world seemed even further from that dream.

I try to live my life by two simple rules. 1.) I try not to hurt others, by thought, word or deed. 2.) I take responsibility for my own happiness.

This much I know. If the whole world stopped arguing whether there is a God or not. Even worse, fighting and killing over different versions of their God. If everyone lived by those two simple and easy to follow rules, there would be World Peace. No one would ever again get hurt and everyone would be happy.

Utopia maybe, but it is this Heathen’s wish for the New Year and the future even if I will never live to see it.


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Looking back at 2015

Enjoying a "Cold One" at Empire Bikes in Chino Hills, during the West Coast Tour. (Oct. 2015.)

As another year draws to a close I find myself looking back at quite a few achievements this year. The Bike Blog reached ten years just last month, and the Bike Registry reached five years.

The success of the Blog and the Bike Registry and people’s interest in my past work, inspired me to get out and actually meet the people who had shown this interest.

I went on a three week West Coast Tour in October 2015, and traveled from Portland, Oregon, to the Bay Area, San Luis Obispo, and made several stops in the Los Angeles area.

I had chosen the West Coast because that is where the largest concentration of owners of my bikes are. It was a wonderful experience, one that my wife Kathy and I will not forget.

As I met with, and spoke to people along the way, I couldn’t help but wonder, was I there because of them, or were they there because of me? Some were old friends I had not seen for many years, many I had never met face to face before, but somehow felt I already knew them.

The West Coast Tour was definitely the highlight of the year, but not the only event. I won two prizes in the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest. It was a big deal for me, some recognition for other creative work, other than bikes, that is.

This was the year I finally got a handle on my weight. Actually this was something that Kathy and I did together, which made it easier, because it involved changing our eating habits. We had always ate a healthy diet, and were riding 100 to 150 miles a week, but we could not shake off the extra weight we were both carrying around our mid-section.

We started at the beginning of June, my target was my racing weight of 154 lbs. which I achieved after two months. Actually, after reaching that weight, I lost another 4 lbs. and I have maintained 150 lbs. ever since. Even through the West Coast Tour, the Holidays, and the winter months when we are not riding as much. I went from 168 to 150 lbs. Kathy went from 144 to 130 lbs.

Above: Fast Eddie and Fat Dave. (November 2014.)

2015 was the year Fast Eddie got his bike back. It had been stolen right after Christmas last year, and it was found in May this year. Due mainly to some honest people, my Bike Registry and the Internet.

Looking back over the stuff I posted in 2015 I feel these are worth a re-read:

The Story of a Thousand Crowns.

Going Metric


And, Opting Out of the System

I would like to take this opportunity to reach out to my many friends. Those I met on the West Coast Tour, especially those who opened their homes to Kathy and me, and made us feel so welcome. Thank you again.

To people like Mitch Pullen who started a Dave Moulton Bikes Facebook page, and to the membership there that is creeping up towards 300, this goes out to you too.

To all those who follow here, some from faraway places. I wish all of you, health and prosperity in the coming New Year. Most of all I wish you Peace and Happiness.



My New On-Line Store

I have just opened a new online store:

The initial purpose is to sell the surplus of tee shirts left over from my October West Coast Tour, but I am hoping it will grow from there, and I can provide quality products that people will want to buy.

I knew before the tour that I was probably ordering more tee shirts than I would sell, but I was heading into uncharted territory. I had no idea how many people would show up and participate.

I didn’t want a situation where the people in Oregon and Northern California, scarfed up all the tee shirts and I had none left by the time I got to Los Angeles. As it was I did run out of certain sizes.

I have to be realistic, I still have a relatively small following, there are some 400 owners listed on my Bike Registry. Although quite a large number when you consider I retired 22 years ago, and I was just an individual builder, and my total lifetime production can be numbered in the thousands. Whereas the big Italian names had factories with a production numbering in the tens of thousands.

On the other hand I did build 2,400 Fuso frames, 300 John Howard, 200 Recherché, plus all my custom frames. So 400 frames on my registry is only really just scratching the surface, and there is potential for that number to grow.

I don’t consider my frames to be collector items. People are buying them to ride, not as an investment.

And that is fine with me, I make absolutely nothing when a frame sells somewhere on eBay or Craig’s List, whether it sells for $200 or $2,000.

I get a much greater satisfaction knowing someone enjoys riding a bike I built, over the idea that someone might make more on the sale of frame than I did when I built it.

It is still a buyer’s market out there. A brand new, Fuso LUX frame, built in 1986, that had never been built into a bike recently sold for $600.

An absolute bargain when you consider you could not get a new hand built frame from any reputable builder for that price today.

So here’s the deal. I am retired, I only do as much work as I care to do. I give of my time freely to my blog and the Registry, and the small amount of cost is covered by advertising here, and donations on the Registry. However, an online store is a different issue. There are monthly fees, inventory to buy and maintain. Only time will tell whether I can make it successful or not.

A following of 400 is enough to get things started, but will not sustain a venture like this for any length of time. I have an unknown following here on my blog. I get around 1,500 or 2,000 hits a day, but that is from around the World, and unfortunately shipping costs make it prohibitive for me to sell product outside the US. Also many of the hits are from Google searches, and there is no guarantee they stayed or will ever come back again.

I would love to do an event like the West Coast Tour again, maybe a Vintage Bike Show somewhere. Be assured that if the store is a success, any profit will go into running such an event.

The picture at the top is a tee shirt/sweat shirt design that I have planned for the near future. I hope it will have a wider appeal than the 400 or so ‘dave moulton’ bike fans. Your feedback as always is appreciated.


Udate 12/21/15: I now have XXL and XL in stock.