Editor's Note: Although Hardbikes are not being sold to dealers currently, they're still around. I received the following from Bob Kay: Hardbikes is currently fully operational, backing all the bikes they built andbuild for individuals and corporate lines such as EvelKneivel Cycles. They are currently seeking other signature-line opportunities.
At the V-Twin Expo in February ’06 I noticed a sign that said Hard Bikes was looking for a test rider for their new line of 330 rear tire Choppers. Now me being the one who was hellbent for riding to all of the major rallies and events in this country, I got together with Bob Kay to see what we could come up with. After talking to Bob we decided that in the spring I would come to Hermitage, Pa. and pick up a bike they called “Hollywood.”
After seeing the bike I understood why they called it “Hollywood,” but after the first day’s ride I changed her name to the “Purple People Eater” because as soon as I stopped at a gas station or rest area she was immediately surrounded by people taking pictures and asking all kinds of questions. “Is it hard to ride, how big is the motor, is this an Orange County Chopper,” the list of questions went on and on.
Here’s where the test began. Before I got a mile away, on my first ride, the seat bottom rubbed through, ground the battery out and fried the battery, not to mention the surge it put through the rest of the electrical components. Hardbikes changed the battery and cables and fixed the seat. It was decided that I would ride and fix any electrical problems that arose on the road. We were all hoping that I wouldn’t have any.
The first trip, I decided would be to visit my good friend Dave Perewitz in Bridgewater, Ma. I wanted to show him the new ride. Cool ride through the Pennsylvania Mountains. I passed a State Trooper sitting in the median with the radar on, I was running about 75, and when he pulled out after me I was sure that I was bound for a ticket. As I slowed to pull on to the shoulder, he passed me giving me the thumbs up as he went by.
About 25 years ago I would have been sitting there being smothered in the third degree, all about the length and rake of the forks, not to mention the huge rear tire. Thanks to all the TV shows and the rest of the media, this is almost a thing of the past. On through New York and into Connecticut with about 450 miles under the tires I stopped to get a room for the night. This long wide machine was different and an upper body workout to ride. I’m sure as time went by that I will become more familiar with the riding and handling characteristics, but it was a chore at first.
Up in the morning and off to Dave’s I rode. There was also a packing issue with the Hardbike configuration. There was just no place to pack anything that didn’t scratch the fender or tank paint. It was another problem that I was sure that I’ll find a cure for. I blasted through good weather for the run to Bridgewater and Dave’s shop. I wasn’t that far away, and it was a short ride through the New England countryside.
So far Purpe was a very enjoyable ride, and I was getting used to the way it handled. It didn’t take turns as well, nor did it lean as far as the “Dark Angel,” my other ride, but as the second day drew to a close, I was getting the feel for this machine. Great visit with Dave and his family. Dave and Susan always make me feel as if I’m at home. Not much time for a long visit, as I was on a run for The Florida Panhandle and the Thunder Beach Spring Rally.
After a good night’s sleep I packed the bike to cut a dustry trail. I said my goodbyes to Dave and company the night before, as I was sure that I would be long gone before they came to open the shop. I stuffed my pockets with free Perewitz shop stickers and snuck out the back door.
The next stop on this ride was to see Barb at Barb’s Harley-Davidson in Camden, N. J. I met Barb at one of Dave’s “Fall Foliage Runs.” Dave introduced us and we have been friends since. Her dealership is one of the best in the country and her staff is friendly and well informed and she always give me free shit. I wanted to show off the “Purple People Eater.” After a short visit, she slipped me a shop pin, ‘cause she knew I wouldn’t leave without one.
I headed down the I-95 toward Fl. and the Panama Beach spring Rally. With the days growing longer I was sure I could make it a ways, but not as far as I thought. Just after Baltimore I felt her start to vibrate, and when I stopped to check the top motor mount bolt had decided to take its leave. I was getting late, and the sun was starting to set, so I rode in search of a parts a or hardware store to grab the necessary nut, bolt, washer, lock washer, and locktite to make the repair. I also decided that this would be a good time to stop for the evening.
Up early, to replace the motor mount bolt and check over the rest of the bike, I stumbled around half assleep. Everything else seemed tight and in fine order. That “S&S” motor hadn’t used a drop of oil and neither had anything else. Like stickers and pins, I like spare hardware and bought extras. With that done and the machine packed once more, I headed out for some breakfast and the open road.
Getting used to the way this bike handled, I was enjoying the ride. I was impressed at the way the long chopper ran. The Big tire felt like sitting on a beach ball. The bike lacked light and agile chopper handling, but it was a breeze to ride on a dirt road with that wide patch supporting the rear. It was a lot wider than the rear on my personal bike, but this monster rear tire bike sure got a lot of looks no only at gas and motel stops, but cruising down the road all kinds of people snapped shots of her. May it was that deep metallic purple, maybe stickers flying out of my pockets?
I passed someone and the next thing I knew they were right next to me snapping pictures. Most frequent statement, “You never see one of these running out on the highway just on trailers.” My return comment was, ” This is not a lawn ornament or garage art it was built to ride,” which usually brought smiles from everyone. I alway met the nicest people out on the road. Through Virginia, North Carolina, and into South Carolina, before I stop for the night, with each passing day I got better acquainted with the “Purple People Eater,” and her handling and comfort zones.
Up early the next morning I decide I would check Purple over, like I did my “Shovelhead,” when we tripped across the country. Smart move on my part, as I found the top motor mount loose again. That wasn’t the only thing I found out of joint.
Moving down the I-95 I ran through a tank of gas then stopped for breakfast and refueled. Rolling down the eastern seaboard with the sun shining bright and a warm gentle breeze blowing, it was almost heaven. I knew I would reach Panama City Beach by nightfall and hang with my Wall of Death friends. Maybe they printed new stickers? All went well with the ride, and even though I pushed, and this machine made me use different muscles due to the tire offset, I knew that at the end of the day I could get a massage from the best masseuse around, Charlie’s girlfriend, Shawna. I’ll tell you she was a sight for sore muscles when I arrived. Around of hugs from my friends, a good night’s sleep, and we assembled the Motor Drome at the crack of dawn, for the event.
A few days rest for the “Purple People Eater,” and we were off for a ride to Garden City Beach and the “Broken spoke Saloon,” for the Myrtle Beach Spring Rally. Beautiful day for a ride, sunshine and blue skies, a full bag of oil and a full tank of gas. We were ready for the open highway. Had a little extra time, so I stopped in Charleston, S.C. for the evening to visit with my sticker connection, and do a little riding with them. We swapped Wall of Death stickers for Key West stickers. I don’t get the chance to do this kind of pleasure riding with friends, because I’m always chasing the Motor Drome on the rally circuit. But I had one spare night in Charleston, and it was off to the “Broken Spoke,” to set up the Drome and then we would have a day or a day and a half to go play before the rally started and I could collect stickers all over town. After the rally I’d head back to Pa. and the factory, for a thorough bike inspection by the Hardbike’s crew.
Once the rally shut down, the crowds diminished, the girls disappeared and the food trucks rolled out of town, we pulled the Drome down and loaded it on the truck. Me and the “Purple People Eater,” were going to stop at Doc Neon’s on the way to PA. He always has a stash of cool stickers. Purple and I rolled over to Columbia and on to the I-26 toward Ashville. It may have been hard to maneuver in town, but it felt like a fiery locomotive on the highway. We ran along doing fine, when I heard some noise from the transmission and then she locked up.
I’ll tell you that locking up the rear tire at 70mph is an ass-puckering experience. After a slight sidewise slide the trans broke loose and I was able to maneuver her off the road. I knew immediately this was something I couldn’t fix on the spot. I called Charlie to come and rescue me. He was hold-up in Myrtle for a few days to make traveling money. I was a few hours from Charlie, so I settle down for a long wait in the middle of nowhere South Carolina.
A few people on bikes slowed as they drifted by, but with help on the way, I waved them on. One guy stopped anyway and we sat talking for a while before he took off. His name is Billy Ricketts, I’ll never forget him. He left only to return a half -hour later with a sack filled with Arby’s roast beef sandwiches, fries, and some drinks. He wouldn’t take any money for his help, and this was one of my most enjoyable afternoons stuck along side the road. I gave him an assortment of my sticker stash before he left.
In all my travels I’ve been broke down alongside the road a few times. Billy and I past the time eating and telling road stories until he had to leave, so he could make it to work on time. I didn’t have to wait much longer. Charlie came pulling up about 30 minutes after Billy left. We loaded-up in the trailer and headed back to the, “Broken Spoke,” just as the sun was leaving the sky. Between breakdowns, I was loosing my sticker drive, but always helped. I collected them, then gave ‘em out to folks who helped me.
I called Bob Kay as soon as the bike broke, so they were waiting for an address and a parts list from me. Up early I pulled the bike apart. I had a parts list together in no time. The transmission was shot. Because of the sudden lock-up it stretched the final drive belt. By the time I had her all apart, and the parts ordered I was much in need of a shower and a hot meal.
I received all the parts next day, so the bike was back together and running before the evening rain, and I was ready to rock-and-roll in the morning. I ran up into West Virginia and that pesky motor mount bolt was loose again. I stopped to fix it, but the vibration beat the threads flat and with what tool I had I couldn’t loosen or tighten shit. I wasn’t that far from the factory, so I decided to ride in.
I unpacked the bike at the lodge and then jammed down to the factory, so the engineers and the mechanics could check her over. I asked about stickers? I needed a new supply. I rode back to the lodge with Bob and some of the crew. After dinner we went out to a couple of the local bars.
Down to the factory early, I wanted that report on the “Purple People Eater,” and also to help with any repairs. We finally got the top mount bolt out with an impact wrench and the engineers got the next strongest Locktite and also replaced the top motor mount assembly. Vibration had to be emanating from somewhere else on the chassis? I had a couple of days to burn before I had to be in Laconia and they wanted to run the machine on the dyno and check it out. I checked out the surrounding countryside on my personal ride and made the best of a few rainy days.
Everything checked out and I was on the way to Laconia for the rally and races. It looked like a gray front was moving in rapidly and it appeared to be a Nor’easter. The rain was coming down so hard I could hardly see. It was the first time I hit rain with this wide tired monster. She seemed to hold her own and stick to the road. The only rain problem I had involved wiring. The turn signal didn’t like all the water and worked weird and intermittently.
Rain was coming down too hard, and I couldn’t see the road in front of me, and I was afraid that if I slowed down I’d be re-ended, so common sense took over, and I hit a motel for the night. I wanted to make it to Ted Tine Motor Sports, because he had a set of shocks he wanted me to try on the Purple People Eater, to see if we could improve the ride. Tomorrow was another day.
I woke up to a rain filled day. It wasn’t raining as hard as it was yesterday, but still raining solid. I packed my gear in tall kitchen trash bags and headed out to see Ted. Rain, rain, and more rain, was slowing me down, but not stopping me. I ran outta time and just made my rain soaked way straight through to Laconia and my Wall of Death friends. I arrived at Charlie’s trailer water-logged and in much need of warmth and food.
Through all of this rain I must say that I was impressed at the way the wide tire held the road with only some minor hydro-planing. The alternator took a crap during local rides in Laconia downpours, so Hard Bikes sent a stator, rectifier, regulator and a new battery. With a little help from some friends I had her fixed in about an hour, but I was running low on stickers.
Laconia was over and I was headed by the factory to turn in receipts and report on the performance of the bike, then on to Anamosa. Coming into Scranton, Pennsylvania, I noticed a drag on the rear of the bike, and when I stopped to check it out, one of the axle adjusters came loose and allowed the rear wheel to shift. There wasn’t a lot of room for the wheel to float, and when it did, it made the rear pulley rub on the frame and belt guard. A quick fix, and I was rolling down the highway again, not far from the factory.
After filling out my report, they slipped her on the lift and gave her the once over. I graciously got a clean bill of health. Morning dawned bright and I was already running down the highway for Anamosa. The machine was running beautifully. It was hard to find fault, when you have a beautiful day and a good running motorcycle under you. No problems just a good ride to Anamosa and J&P Cycles. I had a fresh load of sticker to share and J&P would surely fill my stash.
It was just a one day event so it was easy livin’ before I headed south to Louisville to show the bike to the Harley dealer there. Quick over night stop and I headed west for home. On to Dallas first and not one problem with Purple. I was really getting a feel for the Purple People Eater. I didn’t stop until I was in Deming, New Mexico.
Up the next morning I walked out to find the bike surrounded by the Luna County Sherriff’s Department and the New Mexico Highway Patrol. There was nothing wrong, but I reached for my sticker stash quick. They were just admiring the machine and of course they had a passel of questions about her. It seemed that this was their breakfast spot, and she just caught their attention.
After some friendly joking I was packed and on my way across what was left of N.M. and into AZ. I decide to stop in Tombstone, because I have never been there before. Even though it was a weekday, the town was crowded, and of course the girl drew lots of attention. After an hour or so, I headed out for Califa and home. Hot across the desert, and I could hardly wait for palm trees, greenery, and cool relief that meant I was almost home. Last gas stop in Riverside, and I was tired and not in the mood to answer any dumbshit questions. Of course there was one dufus, so I politely answered his questions, gave him Hard Bikes stickers and cut a dusty trail for the cubby-hole and my bed. I could hear it calling me.
After the two week break and OTL, I headed up the I-15 to Butte and the next rally. Everything ran fine until I heard that gear noise again. I immediately pulled in the clutch and headed for the side of the road. I was just getting stopped when she locked up again. I was at mile marker 36 in the middle of nowhere Montana, with very little cell service and a dying battery.
Once again I called Charlie–rescued again. Always in the middle of nowhere with nothing to eat or drink in sight, I knew it was going to be a long wait. I was at least 125 miles from Butte. The wait wasn’t that bad. Charlie made good time and we had the bike loaded in a snap.
On the ride back to Butte, Charlie told me another friend of ours was also broke down close to us. He asked if I would fix it too. I said, “No problem.” In the morning we loaded Kat’s Dyna. She ran over something on the road and knocked a hole in her oil pan. I made the calls to Hard Bikes and to Bob Kay, and they assured me that the parts were shipped. So when we got back I started in on the Purple People Eater.
After I got her apart I started on Kat’s Dyna. It didn’t take long to yank the oil pan off. We found a welding shop and sent Charlie out with the pan to drop it off. He then tracked down the UPS driver with a handful of stickers and retrieved the parts for the Purple People Eater. Hell, I use ‘em as tips. As soon as Charlie returned, I started to put the machine back together. We were running shows at the “Wall of Death,” every hour on the hour so there was no rest for me.
Just as I finish my bike the welding shop called and the oil pan was ready. Charlie went to fetch the oil pan with stickers, while I test-rode the Hard Bike. Beyond tired, I couldn’t wait for the day to be over. The weekend was finished and it was time to head to Sturgis. Kat was rolling east and I was splitting to Iowa. I wanted to ride with Dave Perewitz on his “Discovery Biker Build-off Ride.”
Kat and I shared the highways to Sturgis, grabbed a room and good nights sleep for the ride to Iowa the next morning. Up early to a howling wind, I knew it was going to be a tough day. This machine doesn’t handle well in a strong wind, and I mean strong wind. Some of the gusts felt like they were blowing the back wheel out front. About six hours of fighting the wind and I was ready for a room and a bed. Hopefully the storm would blow itself out.
It was not to be the case. We awoke to a whistling wind that looked like it was pushing rain. The closer we got to the eastern end of the state the worse it got. At the first gas stop I bought tall kitchen trash bags and started packing my gear and told Kat to do the same thing. Just as we finished the rain slammed the station. I wasn’t sure about the way Purple was going to handle the wind and the rain, so I took it easy. This was also Kat’s first time riding cross-country in a rain storm. We did fine until just past Mitchell, when an 18-wheeler and a huge gust of wind kick me and the Purple People Eater sidewise, almost taking us down.
We pulled under a bridge to gather our wits and make a plan. We decided that the next motel we came to would be our stopping place for the night. Little did we know it would be 45 more miles before we came to that goddamn motel. All of our clothes were soaked, so we put the guest dryer to good use, and I called Dave to let him know what was going on. We would hook-up tomorrow at their next stop.
With our stuff wrapped again, we set out to meet Dave and company in Dennison, Iowa. We arrived about 2 hours before Dave, which gave us time to check in and clean the rain and mud off our bikes. Dave, Paul Yaffe and company jammed passed as we were finishing our wash job. We met up with them, had dinner, listen to some local bands, danced, then called it a night.
Dave and some of the guys went bar hopping and somehow Dave’s rear pulley split. For the crew it was a night of hard work. Dave had to finish the ride on that bike or be disqualified. Calls were made and the parts were flown in. Some of the crew stayed awake all night. Up at 5:30 our little entourage was ready for the catch-up ride to Sioux Falls and hook up with the rest of the riders, so we could continue on to Ft. Pierre.
No more rain but the wind was still howling across the plains. The closer we got the faster we went. We had a hot sun to deal with and everyone made sure to stay hydrated. Into Ft Pierre we rode to grab a room at the Holiday Inn and cleaned for a steak dinner. Kat and I said our goodbyes to Dave and the crew, as I had to go to work and she was going east. After changing the oil and filters in our bike we rode to the I-90 entrance ramps before splitting and going our separate ways. Into Sturgis to the Hard Bikes booth I went, this was my first stop before checkin’ in at the Motor Drome and my Wall of Death defying friends.
Sturgis was no good to the Motor Drome, so I had a lot of time to cruise around and show off. Got to do some riding with Bob and the Hard Bikes crew, also grab some video shots, not to mention the countless pictures that were taken. Good time in Sturgis, didn’t make any money, but at least I filled my sticker stash.
The Motor Drome was down and on the truck, and I got to go home for a break. I rode out to visit Deanna at the bar when the machine started acting up, finally made it to the bar. It acted like the electrics were finally going south. I limped it down to her brother’s work and got one of the Hard Bike tech guys on the phone. We decide that we needed to replace the Thunderheart and the S&S ignition. Two days and I was up and running fine again. I went through a batch of sticker to the folks at the bar who helped
It was off for Ocean City, MD and the Delmarva Bike Week. After some discussion with Charlie we decide to put the Purple People Eater in the trailer and split the driving to get to the rally quicker. Also, when I changed the transmission fluid, I noticed a lot of metal shavings in the oil, so we decide to ship a new transmission to Ocean City, so this one could be checked. After changing the transmission one more time, and with Delmarva bike week over, I set out for Hemitage, Pennsylvania and the Hard BIKE factory to return the Purple People Eater and retrieve the “Dark Angel.”
As anxious as I was to get the “Dark Angel” back I was reluctant to let The Purple People Eater go. All in all I had a great summer on a cool bike, but I peeled through a lot of stickers in the process. They gotta fix that.
–Flash De Monet
Drome Rider
Harry Bostard
flashdemonet@yahoo.com>
