Part 1
Evan sat at his bedroom window and stared at the night sky. It had been a strange day for him indeed. He thought about what happened and smiled. Today was a turning point. A day when he summoned all of his courage and made a decision on his own, against the wishes of his parents and everyone else who thought they knew him.
He registered for classes at Ganton Valley High this morning. At fifteen years of age, he was excited at the prospect of a new challenge. Education came easy for Evan. He could maintain a 3.8 GPA without trying. But now it was time to learn something new, to learn to use his hands, along with his mind. To be able to create things that people could see and touch, and be amazed by, this was his dream.
Evan registered for metal shop and knew that his parents would be angry, and they were. They wanted him to continue learning traditional arts, whilst studying other boring subjects to achieve a respectable career. His parents were both professional people and wanted Evan to be the same. Still it was a sleepless night, filled with anticipation, for new things to come. His life was beginning.
The school bell rang; the classroom was full, but still no teacher. Everyone knew Evan. He was a very likable person, although he had few close friends. And now they wondered what he was doing sitting in the shop class with them. He sat quietly; this was the day he had been waiting for. Then the teacher arrived, rolled in actually. He was in a wheel chair. A man of ordinary build and appearance, name was Mr. Henry Ellis, Mr. Ellis to the class. His voice was powerful and commanded attention. Evan wondered if this was a practiced technique to command respect, due to the wheel chair. No matter to Evan, who listened intently, absorbing everything.
As the days turned into weeks, Evan’s parents noticed the change in him. A positive change. He seemed happier and newly motivated. As angry and disappointed as they were previously, they couldn’t help but be happy. He was becoming a man, making his own decisions, and if the result of his choices were positive, then life would be okay.
Evan learned quickly. As months passed, he learned to use of tools, to assemble and disassemble, to bend, cut and weld, to use machines. He was at the head of his class and he couldn’t get enough. He started to study metallurgy in his spare time. To understand the properties of the materials that he loved to work with. Henry Ellis was quite impressed with Evan. It had been a long time since he had such an enthusiastic and gifted student, and he felt that it was time to enhance Evan’s enthusiasm.
After class one day, Henry Ellis held Evan back.
“Evan, have you given any thought to what you want to do after you graduate?”
“Not as far as a career Mr. Ellis, I just want to keep learning, to experience different things, to see the world and to wake up every day feeling the same enthusiasm that I do right now.” Henry couldn’t believe the scope this boy contained, and decided right then, that he would do everything possible to help Evan find his way.
“Do you like motorcycles Evan?” Evan never really thought about it. He saw plenty of small commuter bikes and multi-colored sport bikes, and they were “okay”, but nothing really interested him.
“Sure, they seem like fun.” He said.
“I’d like you to come over to my house on Saturday morning. I have something I need a hand with, okay?”
“Sure Mr. Ellis, see you then”. Evan’s interest was peaked. What could a man as knowledgeable as Mr. Ellis, possibly need help with.
“Patience Evan”, he thought to himself, “You’ll find out on Saturday”.
On Saturday morning, Evan was up early. He dressed and gobbled breakfast, then told his mother that he was working with Mr. Ellis for the day. He couldn’t wait to get started on whatever it was he would be doing. When arrived at Henry Ellis’s house, Henry was rolling out the front door.
“Morning Evan”, he called, “This way, to the garage.” Evan looked at the big four-car garage and couldn’t wait to see what kind of cool machinery might be inside. To his surprise, the garage was considerably empty. There was an old MGB convertible parked in the back, covered in dust, but appeared to be in good shape. A bunch of covered boxes were stacked next to it, a lathe, a drill press stood against one wall, and two large tool boxes, one on each side of a work bench, along the other wall. Henry rolled near the workbench. There was an object on the bench in front of him, covered by a sheet.
“A statue maybe, or some other piece of art,” thought Evan.
“Come over here Evan, I want to show you something”. Evan walked over to the bench as Henry removed the sheet. He couldn’t believe what he gazed at. It was the most beautiful thing Evan ever saw, all black and chrome and begging for attention. He knew it was an engine, but had no idea what this beauty was. He looked at Henry and asked
“What is it?” Henry replied,
“Son, this is a Panhead”………….
—–To be continued.
Dan “Ozzy” Franco
Illustration by Chris Kallas, signed prints are available in the Bikernet Gulch.
Part 2
“Son, this is a Panhead,” Henry said. “It came out of a 1952 Harley Davidson, that my father bought brand new.” I was two years old at the time. My dad loved that bike, he rode it everywhere. He started riding me up on the gas tank when I was three. What a thrill! My mom yelled at him that I was too young and would get hurt, but he wouldn't listen to her. Just told her to go back in the house and mind her business. Off we'd go, for hours, cruising the country roads near our home. My dad always had a smile on his face when he was on that bike. It seemed that nothing could come between his love for his Pan and hitting the road for days.
As I got older, the afternoon rides with him became infrequent. He'd still spend time with me and the bike. But instead of riding, we'd clean her up, changing the oil and spark plugs, checking tire pressures and adjusting brakes. And all the while he'd tell me stories of the road. He'd roll out every Saturday morning, bright and early, with a bedroll and an extra set of clothes. The road beckoned, in many directions. Sometimes it lured him to places he'd never been and sometimes to roads that he knew like the back of his hand. He always shut the bike down and coasted quietly into the driveway on Sunday night, usually after mom and I went to bed. But the rumble of the Pan in the distance would always wake me up. And I couldn't wait until the next day to hear about a new adventure.
He taught me everything thing I needed to know about metal working, using tools and machines and welding. My interests in all things mechanical grew. I tore apart and tinkered with anything that I could put a wrench to. By the time I was fourteen, I could disassemble and assemble that Panhead without any help from the old man. He also taught me how to ride, just an old beater, that he brought home one day and told me to get running. That was my pride and joy. But he still wouldn't let me ride her.
But then, on my 16th birthday, everything changed. My dad came home with another motorcycle in the back of his truck, the looks of which I had never seen before, only heard about in my dad's stories. It was a chopper. With high handlebars and a tall sissybar, it was the coolest thing I had ever seen. But man did it need work. The engine was missing, and the chassis was covered in rust and road grime, plus two flat tires and a dent in the gas tank. He gave a yell for me to come and give him a hand lifting it out of the bed. Then he gave it to me for my birthday and with a big smile promised to help me get her running, so that we could ride together.
I was thrilled. This was my dream. To have my own Harley- Davidson, and cruise the highways with my dad. We spent every evening working on the bike. After tearing it apart and cleaning everything that was salvageable, it took some time for me to raise enough money to buy the parts needed, to get her back on the road. And I still didn't have an engine!
Then the worst thing that could happen, did. My dad was gone. He'd had a heart attack, in his sleep one night, and died. I was devastated. I didn't touch my chopper project for a long time after that. My life seemed to lose direction. One day my mom said, “You know Henry, dad's motorcycle is still in the garage, and I think it's time that it was passed down to you. You should have her, because you loved her as much as he did.” She was right, and I ran to the garage. I never rode my dad's Panhead, and sitting there in the garage, she sure did look lonely. I sat down next to her on the garage floor, and eventually fell asleep.
When I woke the next day, I rolled the Pan outside, gave her a quick wipe down, and two kicks later she was running. I climbed aboard and got a sudden chill. Man, it didn't feel right. I couldn't put a finger on the feeling. Then I looked up and saw my chopper and knew exactly what to do. I shut the Pan down, rolled her into the garage and proceeded to pull the motor out and transplant it into my chopper. My ride, with the same heart and soul that took care of dad all those years on the road. It could not have been more perfect.
As soon as the transplant was completed, I kicked her over, exactly as before, two kicks, and she ran like a champ. I ran inside and grabbed dad's bedroll, and I was out the door and on my way to my own adventures. What an awesome ride! She rumbled down the road without missing a beat, and I had the biggest shit eating grin on my face ever. Life was good. I missed the hell out of my dad and wished that he were riding next to me. But suddenly I understood completely his love affair with his Panhead and the road.
I returned home a couple of days later. I thanked mom for giving me the inspiration to forge ahead with a dream. I pulled the '52 into the back of the garage and covered her up. Time for the old girl to take a rest. I continued to work, and every weekend I would pack a set of clothes, a bedroll and hit the road in a different direction. Seeing new sights and meeting new people.
Four years of working hard, riding hard, and having the greatest life experiences one can imagine, led me down a road that I didn't expect to travel. While sitting in small road-side pub, having a beer and a smoke after a glorious day on the road, trouble walked in. The most beautiful woman strolled into the bar. She sauntered right up to me and asked me to buy her a drink. Ted, the bartender, gave me a reassuring smile, I chuckled and nodded to the bartender. She sat close to me, while she drank, so close I could feel her body heat. She started talking about the previous night. Seems she met a guy in another bar, and after drinking together for awhile, he started to get nasty. So she split as soon as he went to the head. After a couple more beers, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Her face turned white. He had tracked her to this bar. Her fear consumed lovely features.
We took it outside and I sent fast jabs to his nose and a sharp uppercut to his jaw. The chick started to scream ,and I wasn't sure why. I was trying to protect her from this asshole. The fight didn't last long, and I left him lying in a heap on the ground. She didn't follow me back inside. Although I kept my eye on them, I wasn't concerned. I finished my beer and got up to leave. On my way out, I noticed that she was consoling this asshole with the busted nose. I didn't really care at that point, so I headed for my bike. The road beckoned. Then I felt the crack, and I fell to the dusty deck of the gravel lot. I looked back over at them. He was holding a chrome plated .22, and he was smiling. He' d shot me in the back, and the sexy broad at his side giggled.
To be continued
Dan “Ozzy” Franco
Illustration by Chris Kallas, signed prints are available in the Bikernet Gulch.
Conclusion
“She threw her head back and laughed…”
Evan sat and listened to Henry tell his story, not really understanding why he was being told the tale. And wondering what it had to do with the day’s work that was planned. Nevertheless, he was intrigued and wanted to know where it would lead.
Henry continued. “Ted, the bartender, came out of the bar with a shotgun. He was an intimidating figure. He seemed to know what happened and where he was going to end it. Ted told the asshole to throw down his gun, then proceeded to knock him out with the butt of the shotgun. The chick started screaming again. Ted told her to shut up, but she wouldn’t so he knocked her out too.
Once they were secure, he came over to check on me.
“Henry, are you OK?” asked Ted looking worried.
“Yeah”, I groaned, ”my back’s burning where the bullet went in, but other than that, I can’t feel anything.”
“An ambulance is on the way. Don’t worry, everything will be fine, you’ll be OK, and I’ll put your bike in my garage and keep it safe until you’re ready to come get it.” ”I tried to smile and say thanks, but I just groaned and passed out.
I wound up in the hospital for several weeks. The bullet was lodged against my spine and couldn’t be removed. I lost the use of my legs. My riding days seemed to be over.
Turns out, the couple that had done this to me was married, and this was a scam they came up with to get themselves cross-country. Stealing money and vehicles from unsuspecting folks. Seems he’d taken a liking to my motorcycle and figured it for an easy target considering I wasn’t from that town. No one had gotten the better of him, ‘til he met me. Anyway, Ted took care of the bike until I could get it home, and the sheriff took care of those two scumbags.
“Wow”, said Evan.” That’s an amazing story Mr. Ellis. You’re lucky to be alive!”
“You know something Evan, you’re right! And it took me a long time to realize that. I wallowed in self-pity and placed blame on a lot of different things for what had happened to me. Then one day I realized it was just one of those things and I had to readjust to my new circumstances or give up.
A few years ago, I decided to get Dad’s Panhead back to the way it had once been. I pulled the motor out of my chopper, and boy was it looking nasty after so many years. It went up on this bench, and I rebuilt it again. I’ve also been collecting lots of other stuff to get her back on the road. Now it’s time, and that’s why you’re here Evan.”
Evan smiled, after hearing that story. Working on a motorcycle sounded like a pretty cool thing to do today. “Where is the bike, Mr. Ellis?”
”Go over there to that covered pile and pull those tarps off.” Evan did as her was told. He was surprised at what he saw. Not only was there the original bike, Henry’s chopper, but also a sidecar already color matched to the ’52, and a bunch of boxes of new and used parts.
“By the way Evan, when we’re not at school, you can call me Henry.What we’ll be doing is modifying the bike so I can ride her. Changing out the entire electrical system from six to twelve volts so we can add a reliable electric starter. Running the clutch to the handlebars and making a new shifter. We’ll reinstall the engine and hooking up the sidecar.”
Evan couldn’t have been happier. He didn’t know where to start, but Henry was a good teacher and gave careful instruction. They worked together on the project for several weekends. One Saturday morning, Henry rolled into the garage and found Evan already there, sitting on the blue chopper.
“What’s up this morning Evan?” Evan was startled and jumped off the bike.
“Sorry Henry.”
“That’s OK son, you can sit on the bike. After all, once we’re done with the ’52, the chop will be yours.” Evan almost fell over; he didn’t know what to say. Surely Henry was messing with him. “Seriously son, you’ve been working really hard on the ’52 and you deserve it. Also, by giving it to you, it gets to stay around for me to admire. By the way, I’ve found an old Shovelhead that I can pick up cheap. I’ll teach you how to rebuild it and you can pay me back by maintaining the Pan for me, ‘cause I’m gonna ride the hell out of it.”
Several more weeks passed and finally the Pan was ready. Henry climbed aboard and prepped the bike to start. He hit the button and she roared to life. What a sweet sound, man he had missed it. Henry clicked the bike into gear and took off on his maiden voyage. It couldn’t have felt more right this time round.He came back with a smile and hugged Evan tight. “Thanks Evan, for helping me to make my dream a reality.”
Dan “Ozzy” Franco
