PLEASE DO NOT SEND ME ANY FRIEND REQUESTS UNLESS YOU HAVE A REAL GOOD REASON. ALL MY FRIENDS ARE HAND PICKED AND VERY NEAR AND DEAR TO ME.
I am Nash. My bike's name is Grace, and my daughter's name is AJ. Grace is a old Shovelhead, and her and I are one.
My daughter is everything to me. She is the sole reason that I am not dating, and always decide to do the right thing, even if I don't like it. She gives me reason to live, and to get up every morning.
If it wasn't for AJ, I would have lost all hope and trust in the human race by now. Mark my word: I don't much like very many people. I am a friendly person, but most people don't get too close to me.
I heard that it is illegal to shoot fucktards, and that's why I prefer a certain distance to most. It keeps me out of jail.
Most people do not understand what it means to be a woman biker in this world. We work twice as hard to earn respect, and fifty times harder to keep it.
I do not, never have, and never will, ever compromise my standards and beliefs just to appease the masses or those that think they are God's great gift to humanity and the biker world, just so they like me.
Walk a mile in my snake skin boots, and ride a 1000 miles on my Harley Davidson Shovelhead, before you ever judge me.
I am a proud woman. I am a biker. I am strong. I am a gunslinger, I am quick, and I will outdraw you.
I don't ever take anything for granted.
Living in this biker world as a woman without losing one's dignity, pride and self-respect, is anything but a walk in the park.
That's how I roll. Love it or leave it. If I had to explain, you wouldn't understand.
Potato potato potato... Roll on, John!
When God created a United States Marine, it was into the sixth day of overtime. An angel appeared and said, "You're having a lot of trouble with this one. What's wrong with the standard model?" And the Lord replied, "Have you seen the specs on this order? It has to be able to think independently, yet be able to take orders; have the qualities of both a military mind and a compassionate heart; be a leader of junior Marines and learn from seniors; run on black coffee; handle critical ops without a Military Procedure Manual; be able to manage a difficult subordinate, an irate supervisor and a demanding OIC; have the patience of a saint and six pairs of hands, not to mention the strength of three its size."
The angel shook her head slowly and said, "Six pairs of hands - no way!" And the Lord answered, "Don't worry, we'll make other Marines to help. Besides, it's not the hands which are causing the problem. It's the heart. It must swell with pride when other Marines do well, sustain the incredible hardship of combat, beat on soundly when it's too tired to do so, and be strong enough to continue to carry on when he's given all he's had."
"Lord," said the angel touching the Lord's sleeve gently, "Come to bed!" "I can't," said the Lord. "I'm so close to creating something unique. Already I have one who can complete a 26-mile forced march with full pack, handle a 9mm and an M16 with astounding accuracy, conduct land navigation in the dark, and operate field communications."
The angel circled the model of the Marine very slowly. "It's too serious," she sighed. "But tough," said the Lord excitedly, "You cannot imagine what this Marine can do or endure." "Can it feel?" asked the angel. "Can it feel!" replied the Lord. "It loves the Corps and country like no other!"
Finally the angel bent over and ran her finger across the Marine's cheek. "There's a leak," she pronounced. "I told you you're trying to put too much into this model." "That's not a leak," said the Lord. "That's a tear." "What's it for?" asked the angel. "It's for joy, sadness, disappointment, frustration, pain, loneliness and pride." "You're a genius!" exclaimed the angel. The Lord looked at her somberly and replied, "I didn't put it there."
Turn ons:
Old bikes and people who ride them. Members of the silent-nod club.
Turn offs:
Rude people and moronic one-liners. People who insist that they are "the real thing". Men hitting on me. I am not looking for romance!
Ideal:
Probably my showerhead. And my shovelhead..., just sayin'!
Activities: Riding Horses and riding Grace and raising my daughter.
Interests: What..., You mean besides my daughter and my bike?!?
Favorite Music:
Favorite Quotes: "Shovels will survive a Nuclear War"! (Pooch)
How do you kill an EVO? You beat it with your Knuckle, you hit it with your Pan, and you bury it with your Shovel!
If it ain't Pan or Shovel, i don't want no head!
Tried to find something intelligent on TV. I turned up the button that said "Brightness", but it didn't work.
1951 Harley-Davidson Panhead Chopper This is the bike I am working on building. I have the motor and most of the parts, including the frame. Just the putting together is another story. No time with a toddler.
![[Image] Nash Montana](http://image4.bikerornot.com/usrimg/74550n.jpg "Nash Montana")
![[Image] shoes](http://image4.bikerornot.com/usrimg/28257r.jpg "shoes")
![[Image] 66&76shovelhead](http://image4.bikerornot.com/usrimg/37895r.jpg "66&76shovelhead")
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![[Image] rain](http://image4.bikerornot.com/usrimg/60602r.jpg "rain")
