I'm not writing this to spew what my version is, and I'm not interested in what yours are. What spurred this rant was a 9-year-old kid in my neighborhood, named Cisco. All day everyday I get kids comin' by my shop buggin' me about bikes. They LOVE all the discovery channel shows and the only way I can get rid of 'em is to put them to work or draw a picture of their favorite “Orange County” or “West Coast” chopper. Each one of 'em has a favorite celebrity builder and it's always pretty even between the Paulies and Jesse. One kid (Cisco) likes Billy Lane. Why is this noteworthy? Because Cisco took all the brakes off his bicycle! He rides his bike all over town with no brakes and says it's just not fun on a normal bike. He swears he was doin' it before he saw Billy's stuff. Pretty cool, at least from an anthropological standpoint…..?
All this reminded me…
In 1971 I was six years old. I've never experienced most of the things that built chopper lore, at least not first hand. I don't know enough about it's history to write a single paragraph. As a matter of fact, I don't know enough about WRITING to write a single paragraph, but fuck, this is America.
My entire career is built on the first seven years of my life, and my first memory of chopper world from the back seat of my aunt Joyce's '61 Chevy. My mom and dad were takin' my little brother Bill and me to Lietchfield for a family reunion. We had the windows down, rolling down I-65 and just hangin' out when we heard a couple of open piped H-Ds comin' up on us.
My dad yelled, “Timmy! check this out!” He was lookin' in the rear view mirror and grinnin' like crazy. So me and Bill spun around and there they were!
The dude on the lead bike dropped his arm out all lazy like and swung into the left lane to go around us. They weren't in a hurry and it took 'em a bit to pull up even with the Chevy. My parents were looking over at 'em smiling, and we were flippin' out. I mean, the President's motorcade wouldn't have freaked us out more! It was all sunlight, chrome, metalflake, ribcage rattlin' noise and right when we thought it couldn't get any better the trailing bike had this fantastic blonde girl on the back. She was all leaned back with flip flops and a red bandana in her hair.
This dude rolls up next to the car and now they're both even with each other. One's all hunched over his drag bars and the other guy is resting against this amazing chick. My dad's yellin' FUCK YEAH! My moms watchin' us freak and at that moment all seven of us were stupid with glee. Right about then they cracked the throttles and those monsters jumped forward and started rolling away. The girl gave me the “tiny wave” and we watched 'em run off in the distance, bouncing slightly on under-inflated rear tires and dodgin' little crap in the road.
THAT folks, is why I do what I do for a living. If it wasn't for people like them and the type of bikes they were riding, I wouldn't give a damn about motorcycles.
— TimThe Conderosa
