Documenting life during the first attempt at restoring a vintage motorcycle.

Similar to the zen -like feeling that is realized through surfing,
motorcycle repair can elevate the mind to a meditative state that eludes time and space...
Meaning I obsess over it, get frustrated, yell, laugh at myself and overall waste a lot of time.


Family Jeans - The Photo Vault

During my last San Diego visit to see the family, I discovered a goldmine of old photos. My sister has bestowed upon herself the task of finding, organizing and framing all the amazing photos from the past 4 generations of my family. The family history dates pretty far back (I think my greatgreatx20 grandfather was Jesus' landlord) and it's quite a trip to see my great/grand/current - parents in their glory days. So the goldmine I speak of is a box of photos of my Dad and all his motorcycle adventures in Tehran in the early 70's. Really cool vintage pictures of him jumping the stairs of the Grand Imperial Hotel & Casino on the Caspian Sea to racing in the salt flats of the Southern desserts and exploring the Northern Mountains. He had some amazing Yamahas and Husqvarnas too. What a rad guy. Whether popping wheelies or charging big waves, he always maintains that signature laid-back style. I will be posting 1 or 2 pics every week until I run out.
Pictured here - Pops Ovanessoff drifting - circa 1972

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