It’s absolutely crazy to think that the same 1968 Mustang GT Fastback driven in Bullitt by Steve McQueen himself, would end up in the hand’s of an unassuming New Jersey housewife… But that’s exactly what happened.
“After Bullitt wrapped, the hero car was sold to a studio executive in Los Angeles, who kept it briefly before selling it, coincidentally, to a police detective. The officer shipped the car to New York and kept it for about three and a half years before placing a for-sale ad in the back of Road & Track magazine in 1974. His $6,000 asking price was somewhat steep, but Robert Kiernan, a New Jersey insurance executive and Mustang fan, went out to look at it. He bought it for his wife to use as a daily driver.” –Vanity Fair
The original 1968 Mustang GT Fastback from Bullitt in Sean Kiernan’s secret barn in Nashville. Inset, the letter from Steve McQueen to Robert Kiernan, dated 1977. (via Vanity Fair) Courtesy of Ford/Historic Vehicle Association.
ELVIS BOWIE MASHUP original artwork by Sasha Laskowsky-Ziguilinsky AKA NEOPREN
Happy Birthday Elvis & Bowie! There were many parallels between the two– some coincidental, some very intentional…
Richard St. Clair on his 1961 Harley-Davidson Panhead, AKA Queenie. “The bike came to me in 1975 at the time my wife was expecting our first child. So we sort of had twins — one for the barn, one for the crib.” (Come meet Dick and see his work at TSY June 17th, 6-9pm.)
“If you don’t know Richard St. Clair– you don’t know Dick!“
The first time I tried-out this line on Dick St. Clair– he cackled with delight. Not one of those forced, polite laughs– this was like a kid facedown in birthday cake kinda laugh. You see, Dick to this day is simultaneously amused and annoyed that something as honest and simple as going by the name Dick (his given name, mind you) makes certain people uncomfortable. Some people will wince, others kindly ask if they can call him by another name. Yes. If “Dick” makes you uncomfortable, please call him– Biggus Dickus.
Now that we got that outta the way.. Seriously– You really don’t know dick about biker art if you’ve never experienced the works of Richard (Dick) St. Clair. Dick is the real deal– having spent a good many years logging countless miles on his Harley in the ’70s – ’90s riding cross-country to the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally, Daytona Bike Week, Harley Rendezvous, and everywhere in between. He took photos that captured the life of free-wheelers, outlaws, and strays living life on their own terms. Many of these photographs gave birth to his epic paintings. There are many sides of Richard St. Clair to discover– he’s a storyteller, writer, photographer, and yes– one amazing fucking painter.
On June 17th, TSY presents “Live Cheap– Never Die” The Art of Richard St. Clair.
John Harman (and I believe, brothers Harry & Bill Holland) in the early days of H & H Cycle which was born from John Harman’s revolutionary design for an internally sprung girder that was not only easy on the eyes– the performance and quality far exceeded what was commonly found on the market at that time, setting a new standard that others tried to followed– but there really was no other like Harman.
“What rock and roll owes to Elvis– drag racing owes to Leo Payne.” –Cook Neilson.
Leo Payne at the Bonneville Salt Flats. via
Robert Plant of Led Zeppelin and his beloved ‘Strider’, named after J. R. R. Tolkien’s character ‘Aragorn’ from ‘The Lord of the Rings.’
Bron-Y-Aur Stomp was penned by Robert Plant and Jimmy Page back in 1970, and named after the tiny cottage in Gwynedd, Wales where the band holed-up after coming off their North American tour. The rustic, old home (with no power or running water) was a welcome escape to refresh the road-worn band and inspired several epic songs for Led Zeppelin III, including Bron-Y-Aur Stomp. “There ain’t no companion like a blue-eyed Merle,” was Robert Plant’s tender, lyrical nod to his sweet lil’ pooch, Strider in this song. Tolkien references can also be heard in a few other Led Zeppelin songs– Ramble On, The Battle of Evermore, and Misty Mountain Hop.