This bike represents one of the many reasons I love motorcycles. Scooters have stood beside me through jobs, five marriages and various relationships that thankfully didn’t result in more weddings. There comes tough-as-broken-spokes-times during relationship hell that a man needs all his faculties and all the positive influences the biker world can afford him. This scooter carried me through one of those eras.
I fell in love, head over heals, for a women with loose hinges, mental instability and great tits. I was lost in a black hole of infatuation with an evil being. My draw was stronger than heroin to an addict. I fought it night and day, usually unsuccessfully. I worked as hard as my fleeting concentration would allow. I hit the gym harder and tried to focus on other women including my lovely ex who I abandoned. I failed miserably.
In the center of this fiery hell a call came from Randy Simpson of Milwaukee Iron. “I have just the thing you need,” Randy told me, “but you have to hang on while we restore it.” Those words twisted inside me.
I’m not sure my mind and vocal cords were connected, but in a deeper sense I believed that Randy understood my tsunami pain. His business had grown quickly, and we spoke almost weekly about the industry and his own expanding-enterprise woes. During a rough winter the snow piled so high on his building that the roof collapsed. Talk about a single motion that can knock an man’s lifestyle to its knees.
Randy recognized the wavering tone of my distant voice from Lynchburg, Virginia to Los Angeles and understood a deeper motorcycle related need. He purchased this running flat track racer complete in ’83 from Rick Allen and Ed Rich from Asheboro, North Carolina. It lacked only basic fasteners and the original clutch pack. Weekly Randy reported on restoration progress and the sheet metal paint scheme which was sent to Dawn Holmes in Prescott, Arizona. At that point I planned to escaped the inner city and hide in a small condo on the edge of town.
Each time the phone rang Randy’s hopeful tone momentarily released me from a lover’s doldrums. I sensed that he was taking a mental dip-stick to my heart in addition to accounting for the bike. I perceived in my mind that I would overcome this affliction. I knew that I was not alone, that men and women all over the globe were facing heartbreaks. Weekly, in the news, the terror of relationships-gone-wrong splashed across headlines. Recently a man attempted to kill all four of his kids to express his rage over a woman. I prayed I wouldn’t stoop to anything foolish or destructive. I told my brothers, fleeing from terrible break-ups, that there’s another woman with the touch, beauty and heart to erase your pain. During the onslaught of emotional terror, it’s hard to imagine.
During a weekly check-up, Randy explained that most reconstructions, especially race bikes, begin with frame straightening. Milwaukee Iron houses a rare, original, precise chassis table for just such chores. After stripping the bike, frame truing came first. Milwaukee Iron trues and modifies frames constantly
I couldn’t concentrate on the technical aspects of the renovation. A brother recently stared at me across a table and pointed out examples of men, in the industry, who destroyed their businesses and lives through break-ups. The community property law can cut a company so fast it never recovers. Even more importantly, it often slits a man’s ambitious drive like a 16-penny nail through a tire at 100 mph. When deflated some guys can’t reach the can of Fix-O-Flat. Life is wild.
One week while Randy was taking my temperature he told me that Rick and Ed developed a Harley Museum in Asheboro called American Classic with 36 notable Harley-Davidsons and assorted memorabilia. He actually told me the address at 1170 US Highway 64 West, but I lost it (I had to call information). The number is (336) 629-9564.
When that ’39 WLDR was delivered I was moving into my stucco cave on the outskirts of society. I lived upstairs and a neighborhood kid and I struggled to haul that little 45 cubic inch flat track racer to the top of the stairs. I surrounded myself with motorcycle art, memorabilia and that ’39 WLDR. I looked at it from day to day and told myself that this classic would feel no pain even if my heart was crumbling. The quality of the Dawn Holmes intricate paint scheme wouldn’t change. The frame wouldn’t rust but remain strong and resilient, always a solid quality example of motorcycling history.
That motorcycle is still with me, remaining an inspiration, still looking as good as the day she rolled off the truck. It’s a constant reminder that as human beings we can bust up our own lives, partnerships, and relationships. We destroy or build, it’s our choice. Randy proved to me that while I was fumbling inside, he was creating new products, rebuilding his shop and had the time to restore this classic on the side, in 120 hours. He reminded me of the essence of friendship and the quality of accomplishment.
Remember brothers and sisters, when life is bleakest, there are the fine lines of a custom or antique motorcycle to releash and the open road recalling pure freedom. At our grease-stained fingertips is the constant opportunity to attain distinction and the hardened steel drive to reach the next brilliant achievement.
Dust your down-trodden-self off and hit the road. Thanks Randy.
–Bandit
