Bikers Hit the Beach to Raise Money for Children

Under the glare of the hot midday sun, the parking lot at San Buenaventura State Beach was aglow Sunday: a sea of glinting chrome, shiny vinyl and more curves than the Venus de Milo.

The roar of motorcycle engines reverberated up and down Harbor Boulevard, and the unofficial uniform--despite the heat--appeared to be the snug-fitting black leather vest.

If you weren’t sporting a tattoo, you were probably underdressed.

At Beach Ride ‘99, about 10,000 bikers and bike fans converged on the beach park. Ride organizer Art Naddour said they hoped to raise $250,000 for the Exceptional Children’s Foundation, which provides services for developmentally disabled children and adults in Southern California. Last year the event raised $80,000 for the foundation.

Groups of riders turned out from all over the state, from Arizona, and Nevada, convoying down the highway to arrive in Ventura for the eighth consecutive year, said Naddour, a biker for 35 years.

Those who ride motorcycles aren’t necessarily the hell raisers they are reputed to be, he added.

“Even bikers with the worst reputations, the Hells Angels, do toy runs and help out as volunteers,” Naddour said. “We’ve got doctors, lawyers and bank presidents in our ranks.

“It’s about the freedom,” he added. “We’ve got a lot of beauty in the United States and you can see it all on the back of a bike.”

For the riders, the lure of the bike is the proverbial open road--the wind in their faces, the endless view ahead and a world without cares.

“I drive a car five days a week. The bike’s a vacation,” said Scott Baron, an Oak Park resident who entered his bike in competition. “It’s cheaper than a psychiatrist, and safer than a mistress.”

Baron’s bike is probably worth $25,000 now, he estimated, souped up with a new paint job, exhaust system and mirrors.

And although there were more than enough folks who could have stepped out of a heavy metal band such as White Zombie--and one guy who was a dead ringer for ‘80s rocker Billy Idol--most of the crowd tended more toward the archetype: your typical grizzly beard, and a tattoo or two.

Dan Boyles, with beard, bandanna and a heavily tattooed arm, said he was a scoutmaster for years--and concedes that even now his golfer son is a little embarrassed to introduce Boyles to his more conservative buddies.

The tough persona is mostly a matter of practicality, said the 47-year-old machinist from Morro Bay--and for the most part merely an image.

“It’s something you try to put out,” he said. “As a kid, you’re looking for an element of protection. You let people believe what they want to believe. So when you go down the road and do something nice for somebody, they’re always taken aback.”

The beach party attracted members of biker groups from the legendary Hells Angels to the Christian Motorcycle Assn., and featured a tattoo competition, a custom motorcycle contest, music sets by Elvin Bishop and David Crosby’s band, and an especially popular dunking booth in which some female targets wore scanty swimsuits and T-shirts.

Seven-year-old Trevor Leavy of Reseda gave a big cheer for Kevin O’Sullivan, who won two awards at the tattoo competition. Though Trevor’s dad was also competing, O’Sullivan was the day’s clear tattoo favorite.

With long black hair, and a body covered by designs--an Irish theme up and down his legs, a huge dragon across his back, and skulls along his arms--O’Sullivan found complete strangers stopping by to take a look at his body art.

But Trevor’s parents were no slouches in the tattoo department.

His mother Marlene, 30, started at 16 with a simple rose on her ankle, and progressed to the Wicked Witch of the West on her leg. Trevor’s Dad, Darrin, 31, is still in the midst of having a huge Japanese scene inked across his back. After 11 hours in the chair, he has only the outline.

He didn’t get his first skin drawing until he was 24.

“I knew I wanted a lot,” he said. “I wanted to get it done all in one fell swoop.”

And even with the sun shining on the park, some of the bikers said they couldn’t part with their jackets. What kind of bikers would they be without leather?

Decked out in a jacket and black jeans, Dan Simmons of Chatsworth figured a little suffering was good for his biker soul.

“Sometimes you have to deal with the heat to look this cool,” he said.