I reckon I'm what ya call and "Older" biker and that's ok, I am a Biker and I am older.

[Panheadbob62]

I saw my first group of bikes flying down the highway from the back seat of my Moms Nash Rambler and it was the BEST sight I had ever seen. I mean there was about 20 of 'em in their colors and on their chopped and bobbed bikes all unique to themselves and they were haulin ass !! I wanted my Mom to hurry and catch up with them but that wasn't going to happen so the entire scene lived in my head. It was a bunch of years later when I saw my first chopper, it was a 51 Panhead and it just so happened to be in Buzzy Grows garage, well the bike was but the tire wasn't, it was sticking out the door, had to take it off to close the door. So I stood and looked at it every day I saw the wheel sticking out as I scared of the crows, they were that type of family.

Well, imagine my surprise when ol Buzzy invited me over to have a closer look, actually, he asked me what the fuck I was doin but, I like my way of telling it better. I watched him working on the pan, it was all primer gray, had a sportster tank on it and the longest front end I had ever seen, made the front tire extend about 9 feet from the motor. A 21" Avon with clip on drag bars and a 16" rear wheel. I got to sit on it once to help him stabilize it for something he was making for it. Yeah, back then we made most everything for the bike ourselves or had a friend do it, not many parts stores about in them days. So I straddled the thing and grabbed the bars as Buzzy took the chalks away from the front wheel.

"FLOP"

front end fell right over and the bars dented the tank, thus ended my bike building career as Buzzy kicked me out, how was I to know? That cemented my love for the old Harleys and I was sold, destine to have one. I ended up with a few old relics that soon fell into such bad disrepair that my gas station job just wasn't able to handle it.

Fast forward a bit and I was sitting at home going over the bills as I had a Tax return check sitting on the desk. Well, I had a break down sitting right there, so I grabbed a beer and thought to myself there had to be a better way. Finished the beer and went to but a Harley I knew this guy was going to sell. It was a 68 , he had two, the 72 was nicer, but the 68 wasn't AMF so I told him I would give him 1,000.00 dollars for it because it didn't run and I didn't know what or how much it would take , blah, blah, blah. We argued a bit so I got JT to give me 100.00 and I held it up and the deal was sealed. Me and JT loaded it up in his truck, drove it to the gas station down the street and I got out, popped the cap off the Magneto, cleaned up the points and she fired right up !! We got it down from the truck thanx to a couple of guys at the station and I rode it home, well, to Ricks house as I didn't have a garage at the time and he did. Worked on it and got it all set to make the long hauls and I was in heaven, sittin pretty on that bastard of a bike.

Life went on riding solo with my friends heading no where special just where ever the front wheel was pointing. Began hanging out with 1%ers and others, and finally got to join into a club called the Pissed Off Bastards of Berdoo, aka Bloomington. A car club/MC as alot of MC's came from car clubs, the car cub long gone I had a lot of fun. Wasn't working so plenty of time to ride with whoever and I tell ya, I never felt alone, EVER. Was riding around with this fella a lot who was a 1%er and one day he called and said we were going to ride up to the high desert. I told him I couldn't because my clutch cable had broken the day before and I banged the tranny pretty good riding home without a clutch. He hung up and I went out side to take the old cable off and check out the tranny. About and hour later I heard this monstrous rumble coming into the trailer park. I could see what or who it was but it sounded loud. Back to work on my Pan and here comes this BIG foot truck turning up my row and as it got close to me, I though it was going to run me over, but it didn't. Nope, just an arm extended out the window and a long skinny thing was droopin on down.

Whoever it was let go of this thing as they passed me by. WELP, a brand new clutch cable slid right up to me as the monster truck disappeared out of the park. I was dumbfounded as I didn't know hardly any body around that park yet here come the Harley gods to the recue !! I went inside to get me a beer as the phone rang and when I answer it it was Doc,

"You ready to go riding yet?" he said.

I said gimme a minute and I'd meet him and the saloon, went out there changed out my cable, made a few adjustments and was on my way to meet him. Turns out he had one at his clubs shop so he drove over there got it and brought it to me. I didn't live very far from his club house but it was just amazing at how I didn't even know it was him in that truck !

Any questions?

(more to come)

[FTW]

Great story, Thanks for posting it.

There are so many times I miss the old days, the lifestyle and the bonds.

Things are so different now and so are the people.

There are some OBRC members that still have offer that type of bond and when we get a chance to attend rallies together, we can sit around a campfire all night long sharing stories.

I know you would fit right in with us.

We will have to make sure you join us at some National gatherings.

[Panheadbob62]

Sounds cool, yet, gotta remember with me its a financial thing as I live on SS and that don't leave me much for long trips.