I met Algie while chatting in a chat room in late 2004. We hit it off immediately. We shared a love for Rockabilly music and old Harleys. Bikers like Algie are few and far between and we soon developed a friendship.
After a year or so of “chatting”, Algie invited me to Southern California to see his shop. I had heard horror stories about axe-murderers on the internet and terrible internet dates. I politely declined but we continued to chat. Finally, in 2006, I told him that I would meet him at Laughlin in April. The death of a friend prevented me from being able to get away. I think Algie had just about given up on me.
In June, Algie rode up to Port Costa, California to ride to the Redwood Run in Piercy with some friends. One of his friends, Sharki (AKA the Ranga Loser Yank) called and told me that she asked Algie what he wanted for his birthday. He told her that he really wanted to meet me and wanted me to go to the Redwood Run with them. Sharki said she would fly me into Oakland as a surprise for Algie if I would agree to go. To say that I was flattered that Algie would use a birthday wish on me is an understatement. So I packed a bag and boarded a flight for Oakland the next day.
I don’t know when she finally let him in on the birthday surprise but Algie met me at the airport holding a sign that said “HUN” (the nickname he gave me because my screen name was HarleyDHoney). I almost tripped coming down the ramp because I was laughing so hard. He was holding the sign upside down! I think it was the sign that won me over.
I was so nervous on the day that I left that I forgot to eat all day. When we got to Port Costa, we went to the Warehouse (the local watering hole) for a drink, or three. No food plus three Captain and Cokes means that I was one sick girl. My first night in town was spent throwing up while Algie held my hair. What a great first impression, right?
A couple of days later, it was time to leave for the Redwood Run.
“All 60s-style” was Algie’s battle cry that week and that morning was no different. We all met in front of Sharki’s house ready to go. I stood beside the coolest relic of a flatside shovel chop I have ever seen: the Illinois Nazi. I held my breath as Algie kicked it. It tried to buck but Algie gave it all he had and it backfired! Not to be outdone by a shovelhead he lifted his leg to kick again but the kicker pedal was hanging there like a limp noodle. Screw it! All 60s-style, right? The guys push started the Nazi and I jumped on the bare fender with our extra set of clothes and the tool bag in a backpack (that we later nicknamed “Shamu”). And we were off.
The trip started out without incident. Because of the Nazi’s peanut tank, we had to stop for gas every 50 miles. At the first gas stop I announced that the backpack and I needed to part ways. I didn’t realize at the time but the tool bag was on top and the weight of it was pulling on me. Algie said that he would strap “Shamu” to the tank and off we went. The others weren’t ready yet so they said they would catch up.
About 5 miles north of Ukiah, California (120 miles or so into our 190 mile ride), we were cruising along doing about 65 mph in the fast lane when everything locked up. That’s right….65 to zero! We slid across both lanes to the shoulder. What could have ended badly was handled expertly by this man that I was beginning to admire. Algie removed the Derby cover. There was actually smoke billowing out of the primary and the primary chain was so tight that you could hear it “pinging”. Algie lowered his KDs over his eyes, looked up at me and said, “I ain’t never seen no shit like this before.” Oh boy…I figured if this man had never seen it, it had never been done.
A few kind people stopped and offered help. We assured them that our friends weren’t far behind us. One helpful guy in a motor home with out-of-state plates even diagnosed the problem for us. Algie had put a magneto on this cool old shovelhead but there was still a battery from days past and after you rode for a while the battery would get a good charge and the headlight would stay on until the battery died again. So this tourist in this HUGE motor home looks at me and says, “I see the problem. The headlight won’t shut off.” I was just about to laugh thinking that surely he must be joking…but he was quite serious. I smiled and very slowly explained why the headlight was on. He left in a huff. Apparently he thought that I should just stand there and look pretty.
Finally our friends arrived and we began to discuss what we were going to do next. Just as we decided to call a tow truck this guy pulls up on the other side of the highway with an empty flatbed trailer. He told us he knew of a small motorcycle shop back in Ukiah. We sent our friends ahead to the Redwoods and we rode back into Ukiah with our new friend.
We walked into this little Mom and Pop bike shop and the kid that rescued us tells the owner that he brought him a “broken down shovelhead”. The owner’s response was, “NOT ANOTHER SHOVELHEAD?!?!” Algie explained to the owner that this wasn’t just any shovelhead but a first year shovelhead. The old biker’s face softened a bit and he said, “Oh…a ’66…I have one right over there.” Algie smiled and said, “Oh, good! That means you have parts in stock.” At this remark the owner eyed Algie with a little suspicion. The guy was busy but gave us the use of his tools and a corner of his shop.
It only took about 10 minutes for Algie to figure out what was wrong. The motor nut had backed out and bounced around in the primary until it got caught up and walked the primary chain on top of the clutch teeth which is why it locked up. He then took a look at the broken kicker pedal. He figured since we were already down, he might as well fix it all at once. Turns out when the old Nazi backfired back in Port Costa, Algie kicked it so hard that it that he had never seen “no shit like this before.”
Algie purchased a primary chain and a kicker gear and borrowed a huge mallet and a chisel. The shop owner’s wife looked at him with some doubt but handed him the requested items. She and I left Algie to it and went and bought some burgers for lunch.
After a couple hours and a few burgers, we were once again back on the road. Only 70 miles to go…what else could go wrong, right?
Let me tell you what else could go wrong. First, the bike started “missing” so Algie went to kick the magneto to adjust the timing and his leg got sucked up against the velocity stack and when he pulled it loose, he pulled the carb clean off the manifold. He fixed that and then 13 miles from the front gate of the Redwood Run, everything locked up again. Algie figured it might be the main bearing. He looked at me and said, “Fuck this ‘60’s style’ shit….I have AAA!” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and discovered that cell phone reception was pretty much non-existent in the redwoods.
We pushed the bike about 100 yards to the parking area of an abandoned Diner. I sat in the shade while Algie thought about what to do. He decided to put it in gear and rock it back and forth to see if he could bust it loose. It was locked up good. After a few minutes of deep concentration he laid the bike down on the primary side hoping maybe the oil would run down in there so he could get it to loosen up. He stood the bike back up and tested the kicker pedal….it moved! He told me to be ready to jump on because if it started he was taking off. It started! I threw Shamu on my back and jumped on the back still buckling my helmet strap as we rode off.
Finally…the front gate of the Redwood Run! Algie stopped short of the gate and called the guy over. He handed the guy our tickets and said, “I can’t shut this off and you might want to clear the way because it’s acting a little sketchy.” Algie let out the clutch and it swerved left and the guy at the gate pushed a lady out of our path. Then it swerved right and the ticket guy had to dive in the bushes to avoid being hit. We start down the hill and Algie yells, “We have no brakes!” Oh boy, I pulled my knees in a little tighter and hung on while Algie started yelling, “Buoy room!” We made it through all the turns to the straightaway. Algie is looking for a place to crash land the Nazi and I realize that we are headed straight for the “pit” and a huge crowd of people. I calmly point this out and Algie makes a hard right…right into a shrub! Out of breath, he goes to put the kickstand down and the spring goes flying. It is dusk and I am crawling around looking for a kickstand spring. Found it! He fixes the kickstand and collapses to the ground. People come running shouting about how cool that landing was. Algie starts telling me that due to his extensive training in rocket trajectory, he was able to ascertain that this particular shrub was the perfect place to stop the Nazi. Rolling my eyes, I part the shrub and the front wheel is hanging over the overhang above the river. Rocket trajectory, huh?
We couldn’t find our friends so we camped out on the side of the road and caught up with them the next morning.
We were enjoying the “60’s style campout” (no tent…just a sleeping bag and a bottle of wine) until it started to rain. Algie “MacGuyvered” us a tent with a garbage bag and some “borrowed” caution tape. He cut the garbage bag and used the caution tape to anchor it to the Nazi’s front end. He dubbed it the “Honeymoon Suite”.
This is just the beginning of a beautiful partnership that is still going strong 7 years later. Stay tuned for the next installment!
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