The Brotherhood of the Wheel

          This is an article I wrote for the October issue of Ink & Oil Magazine. If your on the Northshore, check it out. If your not, let me know and I'll send you a copy.

 

 

          When the publisher of Ink & Oil asked me to cover some events on an upcoming Saturday I was more than happy to oblige him because I don’t need much of a reason to be out on my bike riding. This particular Saturday had a couple of very nice offerings to give me, the Metal of Honor Car and Bike Show in Slidell and Hammond Harley Davidson customer appreciation day. Buddy was going to head to Hammond and rub elbows with the guys over there and I was going to start in Slidell and hopefully make my way to Hammond to meet him. Both events had a lot to offer, Metal of Honor was going to be big and it was to benefit wounded warriors while Hammond Harley Davidson was going to have a live band, a dunk tank and other offerings to entice and reward customers.

            I tried to get together with a chopper buddy and have him tag along with me but that didn’t work out so off I went by myself. This isn’t really a big deal to me since riding solitary is what I prefer most. But as the day progressed, solitude, as it turns out, would be the last thing I felt. It was a beautiful day for riding when I left the house and made my way to Slidell to hit up the Metal of Honor show and there were a lot of bikes on the road as usual. Things went smoothly on the trip there and the show was cool. There were tons of cars of all kinds, drag cars, show cars, rat rods (my favorite), you name it, it was represented. I saw a few antique fire engines as well as a few old bikes I had never gotten the chance to see in person like old flathead Harleys. I took my usual truckload of photos and talked it up with several car and bike owners. About 1:30 I had my fill and was a little excited at the opportunity to get to Hammond.

            I took off from Metal of Honor and took Hwy 11 up to the interstate to fill up on gas before getting on it. As I was pulling up to the exit for I-12 I saw a guy on a Sportster taking the same exit and he was about 6 cars in front of me when I finally started into the curve. I was in no hurry so about 65 – 70 mph is an ok highway speed for me so if I caught him I caught him, no big deal. For the locals reading this you know the west bound on-ramp has a few nice turns and if here are no slow pokes in front of you it can be fun. I love pulling out of the curve on an exit ramp and getting up to highway speeds, it’s a reason to accelerate quickly and lay the bike over a little. As I did the cars started pealing away pretty quick and revealed the rider in front of me who was going about 60 to 65 so I caught up pretty quick. I figured what the hell, strength in numbers right, so I eased up into a staggered formation taking the position to his back left. I rode back for awhile and when he noticed me we pulled next to each other briefly and traded a few hand signals. I ended up taking the lead position and we settled in at a smooth 65mph. Traffic wasn’t bad and it was a crazy beautiful day to be riding. We rode past the different exits and I really kept expecting him to pull off but he just stayed right there. Finally the Hammond exit came up and I signaled I was getting off and he followed me. Upon realizing I took the wrong exit I stopped at the end and we exchanged a few brief pleasantries and I said I took the wrong exit and I meant to go one more up. He asked if I was going to the Harley shop and I said yes. "So am I" he said and so we took off to hit the interstate for one more exit.

            This is where my day starts to go not quite as planned. I hesitate to say bad because I like a little uncertainty in my adventures, and on this day my home built chop didn’t let me down, uncertainty is what it gave me. We took off up the on ramp with me in the lead and then all of the sudden my throttle went limp (yeah, yeah let the jokes fly). After a quick mental rundown I pulled over and killed the engine. My new riding buddy pulled over and killed his Sportster just behind me and I told him what was up. He introduced himself as Bob, and we immediately hit it off. Maybe misery loves company and I was glad I wasn’t alone. I immediately knew my throttle cable had broken and I was just hoping it had broken at the end. I had a fix for that. As someone who rides a homebuilt bare bones chop I am presented with a few facts. One is that I always carry a lot of tools, two is that I know every nut, bolt, and weld on the damn thing, and three is I can almost fix anything anywhere. And sure enough I had in my little tool bag of tricks a type of throttle barrel that I picked up from a bicycle shop. It’s got an allen head set screw you tighten down after you slide it over the end of the cable. This is very very handy to have and I was damn glad I had a spare with me. Well this is the spot where my “life in the raw” philosophy didn’t let me down. I had failed to prep the barrel like I knew I should have and it was too wide to fit inside the throttle housing where the cable broke, ugh. This is going to be instance number one where I needed a file I didn’t have. I looked up at Bob and said “Hey man, you don’t have to stay, it’s gonna be awhile till I get this fixed.” We both knew the Harley shops event was only lasting so long but Bob wasn’t about to leave a man behind and he didn’t hesitate to let me know that either. I knew he was older than me but he surprised me when he mentioned he was a Vietnam vet, he looks great for his age and I never would have guessed. He must be living right.

            Bob filled me in as to what he was about as I worked through the puzzle that was my cable repair. It was really nice having the company I knew wasn’t going to bail on me. We even had a guy pull up off the interstate to see if we needed help. He said he was a rider too and he wanted to make sure we were cool. He had a truck and was willing to help out and only left when he felt assured he had it under control. Thank bro, whoever you were. As I finally got everything squared away, which ended up being much more than anticipated, I started to put the throttle housing back together only to encounter instance number two I needed a file and didn’t have it. Now the barrel was too long for the top of the housing. AAARRRRRRGGGGGG. Well I did what any respectable rat chop, MacGyver watching kid from the 80’s would do, I grabbed my zip ties and electrical tape and made it stay. Throttle housing, we don’t need no stinkin’ throttle housing. I kicked it over and gave it a few quick wicks of the wrist. I was back in business. “Regulators, mount up”, and off we went one more exit to our destination.

              As we rolled into the shops parking lot it was obvious we had missed the festivities. Buddy was gone, the dunk tank was put away and the band was but a ringing in the ears of those still there. About a dozen or so bikes remained as I turned into my spot and Bob turned off his bike met me by my mine. He invited me inside to see what was going on and to get a drink and as it turns out Bob is a regular, his name might as well have been Norm. He ponied up some change and treated me to a crisp cold Dr. Pepper which went down in a way that only an ice cold carbonated beverage can when you are thirsty. I’m not a big drinker so that suited me just fine. There seemed to be a lot of people hanging around and the staff knew a lot of the customer’s names. This impressed me for a couple of reasons, the first is most businesses treat the people who shop there like customers and not people, buy your stuff and leave so the next person can get in. The second is that I have seen a lot of Harley Davidson dealerships be very cold and sometimes downright snooty. This is the farthest thing from the truth with the folks at Hammond Harley Davidson. These people rock and they make everyone feel at home regardless of what you ride. They know customer service is what breeds customer loyalty but it seemed deeper than that. I really feel like they get what it means to be on two wheels regardless of what powers them; they get the brotherhood of the wheel.

            Bob got a hold of the service manager and introduced us and told her about my predicament. She said she could get me a file so I could fix my roadside repair the right way. When she stepped out to take a look at my bike she told me to push it up under the shade out of the sun. I was happy to oblige her and when she returned with the file she also had some epoxy that I could use to fix a pinhole leak in my oil tank that was getting worse and worse. Once again solitude was not my friend today, and I was thankful. As I made my repairs lots of people came up to talk to me and everybody loved my rat chop. It usually garners me a lot of attention everywhere I go and this was no exception. Lots of old school guys remember the CB750 and chopped it back in the 70’s so when they see mine it brings back lots of memories. After my repairs I walked around the shop with Bob for awhile looking at bikes and all of the merchandise. The Hammond store is really nice and is geared towards creating an environment where you feel welcome.

            Eventually with all of my repairs done and a few more adjustments to my throttle cable I was ready to go. Bob had been a great companion and everyone from the guy who pulled off the highway to all the great employees at Hammond Harley Davidson made this trip one to remember. Bob and I said our goodbyes in Hammond because it’s just to hard to shake a man's hand going 65 down the interstate on a motorcycle. I thanked him for his company and kindness and we agreed to get together to ride again. We kicked the tires, lit the fires and away we went. The late day sun was to our backs and it was a perfect ride home. I took my exit and waived bye as Bob rode off to finish his trip. I do like to ride alone, but after this day I met some great new friends. The brotherhood of the wheel had shone brightly on me and I was thankful solitude was not my only companion.