Dial back the clock a cool 46 years (which would put us in 1972), and Smith and Wesson had only recently introduced its Model 59 9mm, double-stack, semi-auto handgun. The 59 was the latest and the greatest in ‘72…a high capacity 9mm with a double stack magazine (like the Browning Hi-Power, the only other gun of its day with this feature) and a double-action first shot (pulling the trigger both cocked and fired the weapon). It was cool. Nah, scratch that. It was super cool.
I first became acquainted with S&W semi-autos with their Model 39, the predecessor to the Model 59. Dick Larsen, a family friend, had a Model 39. Sergeant Larsen was on our local PD and to me he defined cool. I really looked up to Larsen and I loved talking guns with him. In one such discussion the conversation turned to the topic of the day: 9mm handguns versus the venerable .357 magnum revolver. I thought Larsen was a dyed-in-the-wool revolver man, until he showed me his off-duty Model 39. He had it on his belt under a Hawaiian print shirt. It was a cool thing…small and light. I wanted one. “The one to get today is the Model 59,” the good Sergeant said, “if you can find one.”
The Model 59 was a new limited-production item from Smith and Wesson in 1972, and they were tough to get. Rumor has it that S&W developed the 59 for the Navy SEALS (nobody outside S&W and the Navy knew this back then). That’s probably why they were so hard to get initially; nearly all the production was headed to Coronado Island. I was going in the Army and after that conversation with Sergeant Larsen, I wanted a Model 59. In those days, if you wanted to find a hard-to-get gun you either made a lot of phone calls or you visited a lot of gun shops (the Internet and Gunbroker.com did not yet exist). My Dad did both (plus, as a world-class trapshooter, he knew people). I got lucky. Dad found a distributer who could get a Model 59, and I had one before I shipped out for Korea.
I’ve had my Model 59 since 1973, and I’m guessing I’ve probably put something north of 30,000 rounds downrange with it. In my early days, I replaced the black plastic grips with cool tiger-striped exotic wood grips I bought at a Fort Worth gun show (who would want a gun with black plastic parts?), and I had to replace the safety once back in the ‘80s. Other than that, all I’ve done with my Model 59 is shoot the hell out of it and occasionally clean it. It’s surprisingly accurate, it feeds anything, and it’s just plain fun to shoot. It’s a gun I’ll never sell.
The good news is the Model 59 ultimately went into high rate production. More than a few police departments chose the 59 when the migration from revolvers to autos occurred in the 1980s. All of those PDs moved on to newer guns, and today you can still find used Model 59s for cheap.
Most folks today have either never heard of the Model 59, or they would smile quaintly at its mention and then tell you how great their plastic Glocks are. But don’t dismiss the Model 59. The 59 is a grand old handgun and I’ll bet you a dollar to a donut you’d love it. Mine just gets better with age (like a fine wine, I guess), and I love shooting it.
I didn’t start out wanting a Kawasaki Z1. I’m more of a H2 750 triple guy. We were renting a house 10 miles south of Alamogordo, New Mexico and my job was to find a place to buy. Land is cheap in New Mexico and I wanted lots of it. 150 acres was the low-end of what I considered a decent spread.
Tinfiny Ranch’s 5 measly acres with a tiny shack was overpriced by about 50% and after checking the place out I told the real estate agent no dice. I did tell him I was interested in the old Kawasaki leaning against the side of the shack. A call was made to the daughter who inherited Tinfiny and a deal was made. Zed was mine.
Zed came with no title, two Emgo café farings (one color-matched!), three seats, a box full of parts, a repair manual and any other bits I could find digging through the little junk-filled storage area next to the bike. Zed’s chain was rusted and the bike was difficult to push. I used a come-a-long to winch the thing up into the truck and hauled the mess back to our rental place.
Then they sold the place we were renting. CT (my wife) found another rental in Tularosa, 10 miles north of Alamogordo and we hauled all the junk we had accumulated, including Zed, to the new joint.
A year had passed since I bought the Kawasaki and the bike was sitting in a storage trailer waiting for motivation on my part. The bike had no title so I wasn’t gung ho about the whole magilla. I mean, it wasn’t an H2, you know?
We were still looking for a place to call our own when the agent who had shown us Tinfiny Ranch called and said the seller was really lowering the price. CT and I went back out and looked the place over again. Tinfiny had electric service (not activated) a water well (broken), a septic system and a horrific wreck of a shack. It was only 15 miles from CT’s work. We figured what it would cost to make Tinfiny into what we wanted and worked our way back to a price. The agent said no way would the daughter take our offer and of course she did. I hauled the Kawasaki right back to where I had originally gotten the bike. Zed was back home.
Buying Tinfiny Ranch turned out to be a good thing because the rental we were living in also sold and we only had a few months to get the shack into a less distressed condition. There was no time to mess with Zed. I had the shack functioning at a first grade level in time to run off to China with Berk. CT moved all our junk and herself into the shack while I was gone. A more resilient wife you will never find.
Tinfiny has required massive amounts of sweat equity in the two years since we moved into the shack. In that time I walked Zed through New Mexico’s lost title maze and managed to get a shiny new title for a little over 150 dollars. Now the bike was mine: body and soul.
Having a title changed my relationship to Zed for the better. What was once a parts bike to be broken down and sold on the internet became a real motorcycle. I looked at the bike with a new appreciation for the classic lines and meaty, overhanging engine. The bike has stance. It is easy on the eyes with no hard edges or inorganic folds. It is a beautiful industrial product that has transcended the commercial realm and now resides in the empire of art.
Yeah, I’m gonna fix it, but not a restoration, that’s for people who can’t accept a missing eye on an old teddy bear. Life leaves scars. This will be a repair, a salvage operation to get Zed back on the road. I don’t know how long it will take but I know now is the time to start. At this point in my life I’m in no rush and it looks like Zed isn’t going anywhere either.
We were visiting the Planes of Fame last month when I spotted the US Army World War II motorcycle you see below…
At first, I thought it was a Harley WLA 45, but nope, a nice young fellow named Paul was working on the motorcycle and he told me it was an Indian. Wow, you don’t see too many WWII US Army Indians. I was a bit embarrassed (after all, I wrote a book about police and military motorcycles), but the beauty of this motorcycle soon made me forget that. Check out these photos, folks…
During the war, Indian produced about 40,000 motorcycles and essentially devoted its entire operation to military production. It produced few civilian motorcycles (the company did not even bother to print a catalog in 1942), although it maintained a small amount of its production capacity for police motorcycles. It sold its military motorcycles to the U.S. Army and to several other Allied nations, most notably England. Indian offered several models during World War II. These included the Model 741, the Chief, the Model 640B, the M1, and the Model 841.
The Model 741
The Model 741 was Indian’s main military motorcycle. It was the machine Indian had developed in response to the U.S. Army’s ill-advised initial requirement for a 500-cc military motorcycle. The Model 741’s engine actually displaced 30.5 cubic inches (or 500 cc), and for this reason it became known as the “30-50.”
The Model 741 was based on Indian’s Junior Scout. Its 500-cc, V-twin engine was the Junior Scout engine detuned for increased durability. It only produced about 15 horsepower. The Model 741 had a hand shift and a foot clutch like the Harley-Davidson WLA, but the Indian motorcycle put the shifter on the right side of the gas tank instead of on the left side as Harley-Davidson had done. The motorcycle’s throttle was in the left handgrip, in accordance with the army’s initial specification. As Harley-Davidson had done, Indian extended the front forks to give greater ground clearance. Indian also extended the rear frame for the same purpose. The Model 741 also used the much larger Indian Chief’s transmission for increased reliability. The Model 741 had a rifle scabbard on the right front fender and an ammunition container on the left front fender.
The Indian Model 741, like the Harley- Davidson WLA, was not a high-performance motorcycle. Both machines weighed over 500 pounds. Both machines had top speeds of approximately 65 mph. The army was more interested in durability than in top speed.
The U.S. Army used the Indian Model 741 during World War II, as did the armies of Great Britain, Canada, Poland, Australia, and Russia. Indian also sold Model 741s to the British Royal Air Force.
Last year, Sue and I were in the Columbia River Gorge gathering info for a Motorcycle Classics story (you can read it here). We flew up because I had a tight schedule and we rented a car from one of those places where you walk into the parking lot and pick whatever car you want. I saw this cool little yellow Hyundai Veloster and it got the nod….
I’ve always liked the looks of that car…sporty, low, and kind of in your face. And, it had a small engine, which I find more appealing these days. I wasn’t disappointed…I loved that car.
I see another Veloster near my dentist’s office every time I have to make that trek…a custom blue number that is a visually arresting automobile. Yesterday I walked into the vape shop next door and asked who owned it. The guys inside looked alarmed…I guess because I’m a mature dude with short hair and they’re all young, they assumed something bad was brewing. But that wasn’t the case at all. I explained that I really liked the Veloster and I wanted to get some photos of it. And I did.
Folks, meet my new good buddy Jon…
Jon’s car is a 2012 Veloster and I like what he’s done to it. Lots of trim pieces, flared wheel wells, a carbon fiber hood, custom wheels, and more. Check this out…
Jon’s custom Veloster sounds great, too. I guess you could say it sort of defines our website with, well, you know…an awesome ExhaustNote. Take a listen…
So we’re back on the story about our trek to Cabo San Lucas on reborn Mustangs, the little CG clone 150cc hardtails. We’re doing this story in installments. This is the third, and if you are new the ExNotes blog, you might not have seen Part I and Part II. My advice? Take a few minutes and read them before continuing with Part III (this part of our ongoing 150cc adventure ride)…
And with that, I’ll pick up where I left off at the end of our Part II Colonet coffee stop. After our coffee stop, we rolled on for another hour and stopped for breakfast. Here we were, in this little Baja restaurant, and they had wireless Internet access. That’s where I posted the first CSC blog entry on our Baja trip (and we wanted to keep moving, so it was short).
What is the world coming to, though? Wireless Internet access in Baja. I was surprised. That trip was the first time I had Internet access in Baja. I knew the peninsula was changing.
Breakfast was good, and after that, it was a short hop down to El Rosario to top off the tanks before climbing into the Valle de los Cirios. Our bikes climbed, and so did the temperature. I’ll bet we had a 60-degree temperature swing that day. It was right at about 100 degrees in the desert. September is the hottest month of the year in Baja. Why make it easy? We stopped several times to peel off our layered riding gear as the temperatures continued to climb.
When Catavina came into view, we decided to call it a day. We might have pushed on to Guerrero Negro, but there is literally nothing between Catavina and Guerrero Negro, and it’s another 140 miles or so down the road. Too hot, too far, and we didn’t want to ride after dark.
We had a lot of fun with Simon, and we quickly dubbed him “the world’s most interesting man.” Do you remember those Dos Equis commercials? You know…the ones where a guy holding a Dos Equis beer is proclaimed the world’s most interesting man…with descriptors like “he never uses lip balm” and “his mother has a tattoo that says ‘Son.’” We really enjoyed getting to know Simon, and he most definitely is the world’s most interesting man. Before I left, someone gave me a list of “world’s most interesting man” descriptions he grabbed off the Internet, and I dribbled them out to our group as we journeyed through Baja. The one that got the best laugh was “Simon Gandolfi is the world’s most interesting man…he once called a psychic…to warn her.”
Simon was also keeping a blog for his readers. Here’s an entry from Simon’s blog…
The bikes are small and pretty, surely an unusual description of a bike. Best of all they make people smile, not with scorn but with pleasure – as does watching your children play out in the yard.
The bikes were performing well. We had two current production bikes (mine and Arlene’s), and two preproduction bikes (Simon’s and John’s). During development Steve and the boys found a few improvement opportunities on the preproduction bikes, and these resulted in upgrades on the production bikes. Simon’s and John’s preproduction bikes have had some of the problems we found earlier, but the production bikes performed flawlessly.
We didn’t coddle the little Mustangs. We ran on some pretty rough roads, and the speed bumps (topes) in every little town we pass through were brutal. The Mexicans don’t just use one speed bump. They use about 20 of the things in a row, maybe 30 feet apart, one after the other. When they tell you to slow down, they mean it. We’d slow down for the speed bumps when we saw them in time (which didn’t always happen), and then we’d speed up after the topes. As I said earlier, the bikes liked running around 45 mph. We occasionally cranked them up to over 60 mph, but then we’d settle into a relaxed putt to enjoy the scenery and the ride. It’s a sweet way to see Baja.
Here’s another cool entry from Simon’s blog…
The desert here is a vast up-and-down jumble of immense gray boulders, candelabra cactus, Judas trees and skinny scrub. To the south and west lie mountains scrubbed to their stone core by a few million years of wind and occasional rain. To the east a long roll of cloud or fog lies low over the ocean. The dawn light washes the mountains a pale chalky blue. The cloud bank is touched with pink.
I have ridden on ahead. I haven’t met another car or truck in twenty minutes. Cut the engine and the silence is total. Two buzzard glide overhead. Nothing else moves. I am absorbed into the stillness and the quiet and the beauty and find myself shivering, not with cold, but with that exultation that comes sometimes when, tired yet wonderfully content, you get into a bed spread with Egyptian cotton sheets stiff from the laundry and wriggle in minor ecstasy as you clutch yourself in your own arms. Never done that? Never slept between Egyptian cotton sheets? How sad…
And if you have never visited Baja California, start planning. Right now this is about as close as you can get to heaven without a one-way ticket.
We rode into the Catavina boulder fields, one of the prettiest parts of Baja. It’s a surreal region with huge white boulder and enormous Cardon cactus.
Our destination that night was Catavina, where we would spend the night in the Desert Inn. It was a grand day and a great place to call it a night. I’d stayed there many times before on prior Baja adventures, and I knew it was good. The Desert Inn is nice. It’s 100 miles from anywhere.
They turn the generators off from 12:00 to 4:00 at the Desert Inn, so there’s no electricity in the afternoon. The desolation and the surrounding landscape just make it a cool place to be, even if was 100 degrees (as it was when we stopped that day). We ate in the Desert Inn’s restaurant, we sampled their Tequilas (hey, our riding was over that day), and then we hung out in the pool. Wow, that sure felt good.