“Bob Bitchin”

c. 2001 Rod Ice

all rights reserved

(9-01)

Note To Readers: This column was recently retrieved from an old 1.44 MB diskette. It was written on September 9, 2001. I intended it for Keith Ball, once the edtor at Easyriders and later chief at Bikernet. My hope was to portray the former head of Biker Lifestyle Magazine as an anti-government rebel and folk hero. However, with the tragic events of 9-11 coming only two days later, the national mood was changed forever. I rewrote the piece in subsequent days. But from a modern perspective, I think the original version speaks well to the unique nature of this rowdy, cultural icon.

America in the 1970’s was a nation ripped by turbulence of every kind. Political scandals and fuel shortages made the future seem uncertain. Nauseating cultural oddities like disco were promoted by entertainment tycoons. Post-hippie guilt encouraged the idiocy of Joan Claybrook and Patricia Zonker. It was a moment when liberty itself hung in the balance. But for a young bro in western Pennsylvania, hope was delivered in the glossy pages of Choppers Magazine. It was there that I first read a story called “Happy Birthday Blues” by Mike Skvorzov. (This honest recollection of an outlaw celebrating everyday life made me wonder about a writing career of my own.) Soon afterward, the colorful ramblings of a wild, former patch-holder who called himself Bob Bitchin would crank-up that desire. 

 

Robert Lipkin attended UCLA and USC, where he snagged degrees in Psychology and Business Administration. But wanderlust made him unhappy with the life of an average citizen. So he moved in a different direction. “I remember taking my copy of ‘Cycle Magazine’ and ordering all the catalogs out of it, just so I could see what was available for motorcycles,” he remembered. “And this was all before I had a bike!!” His vagabond nature would take hold soon after, in the mid 60’s.

Liner notes from the kickass epic BIKER said it best: “What happens when a 300+ pound, tattooed biker goes out of his way to find a good story while riding across the country? What happens when your feet freeze to the footpegs while crossing the Smokies in a snowstorm? What do you do when you break down a thousand miles from nowhere?” The answer, of course, was that the frustration of these events exploded into a series of editorials, features, and Ride On stories that would entertain a generation of readers. No one in the industry duplicated this mix of humor, and anti-social philosophizing. It would make the Bitchin approach to journalism distinctive and memorable. I was unaware at the time that my schooling in this discipline had begun.

Never had Floyd Clymer or Joe Parkhurst imagined such rowdy behavior under the guise of editorial direction. Bob rolled through Choppers, Biker, Big Bike, Chopper Guide, Street Chopper, Custom Chopper, Supercycle, and Chopper Magazine. As he touched each of these rags, a passion for extreme adventures developed. His tales moved closer to the fringe. With the advent of Biker Lifestyle Magazine came a lawless attitude of outright rebellion. This met a brick wall of opposition in the Reagan-era crackdown on obscenity. Attorney General Ed Meese made a personal task of delivering the nation from purveyors of objectionable material. Sadly, little attention was paid to the first amendment issues that were involved. Soon, government agents would visit BB on his houseboat. It was an episode that fueled the paranoia of those who already distrusted our federal authorities. 

Into the storm of conflicting values, I sent a manuscript called Death’s Payback. The old IRON HORSE (at the time, a pale imitation of Easyriders) was desperate for extra fictional works, and advertised the fact in their classified section. I had mailed out a beggar’s banquet of freelance submissions to their P. O. box. As an afterthought, one off-the-wall story also went to Bob because I had followed his writing for several years. The HORSE showered me with rejections. But Bitchin immediately welcomed me into his dysfunctional family. In 1983, Payback became my first printed contribution. The photograph used with this cycling yarn was of a frightening skull, leering through some mystical purple haze. Friends from The Ithaca Times (I was in New York by then) were astounded. It was the beginning of a partnership that would last for over five years. 

BB showed an incredible ability to put raw truth into print. This gave his rag an added dimension of street credibility. Nearly twenty years ago, he wrote: “Most citizens are jealous of the freedom that an outlaw lives with. The freedom itself scares them. They couldn’t handle waking up on the side of the road, with nothing but their wits and a motorcycle to get them through the day.” Such bare-knuckled opinions were common. And his roadgoing adventures were too strange to be fabricated.

This made my own tour of duty a raucous vacation from the real world. I tried to produce increasingly radical prose to see if Bitchin would reach his limit of tolerance. (It never happened!) I wrote about vengeance, life beyond the grave, insane personal habits, drunken uprisings, and political mayhem. None of this was out of the ordinary for him. Almost everything I submitted landed on the pages of BL. Only one manuscript from that period missed publication. 

Just before the end, Bob hammered his opponents with verbal gunfire. In 1987, he wrote: “As I see it, this country was founded by people who, if born into today’s world, would be bikers. They were fed up with all that bureaucratic nonsense and founded a free America. One that allowed you to live your life free from undue persecution. If they tried it today, they would be jailed.” His patience with the overbearing nature of neo-socialist society was wearing thin. 

A year later, cohort-for-life Degenerate Jim offered the news that Bob had disappeared into oblivion: “Long time readers of this rag already must have noticed something’s missing. Where’s the JUST BITCHIN’ column? Your next question is probably – what’s the deal, what happened? Well, he didn’t quit or get fired and he wasn’t busted, but he doesn’t really work here anymore… sort of. How’s that for a clear-as-mud answer?” It was a quiet departure for one who had lived on the edge. 
 

My personal involvement with that magazine ended at the same moment. The production quality and format improved under new ownership, but Bob’s style of rock ‘n roll journalism was gone. Only with the passage of many years would I realize that he had moved to the high seas in search of new horizons to explore. 

 

Thirteen years later, I found a website dedicated to his modern brainchild, Latitudes and Attitudes Magazine. It was difficult to believe that my old mentor had morphed into a modern pirate. But a familiar address (P. O. Box 668) resonated with memories. When an e-mail link was uncovered, courage appeared. Fueled by pints of Guinness, I sent an electronic letter to the site. It was a cannon shot across eternity…

Bob responded after a few days. His message came like the visitation of a ghost: “Rod, Although my memory was shot out... in the seventies, I do recall your name and articles. It’s good to hear from you... I still run into readers when I do boat shows, and it feels good to know I have poisoned a few minds.” Much time was required to fully comprehend that he had finally stepped from the shadows. The correspondence was a brilliant flash of yesteryear. I was spellbound by his reply.

 

The end result was a news feature for BIKERNET.COM, and this full-blown tribute. In the process, I completely sorted through our household stash of vintage chopper material. It was a time-warp getaway on par with Star Trek. Somewhere, Bob was probably sailing THE LOST SOUL as I played the role of archaeologist. But for this writer, he will always remain a biker, running forever on the lonesome highway!