Astute readers will remember our post on Shinya Kimura, an artist who works with metal and motorcycles to create motorcycle art. I was both pleased and surprised to see one of his creations at the Harley Museum during our recent Milwaukee content safari.
“Spike,” Mr. Kimura’s custom Knucklehead, was in a Harley museum hall that focused on custom motorcycles, and even before I saw his name, I knew whose work it was.
I believe “Spike” is the very same motorcycle featured in this video:
The Shinya Kimura shop, located in Azusa, California (not far from CSC Motorcycles) is one of the more interesting places I’ve ever visited. I think you would enjoy it, too, although it is not open to the public. I was there on business reasons, and I captured some great photos. If you have a chance, check out our earlier blog.
Susie and I were channel surfing on Netflix a few nights ago and a new documentary popped up: Arnold.
Arnold is a three part series (one hour each) documentary on the life and times of our former governor and my all-time favorite actor, Arnold Schwarzenegger. The series was very well done, it is told by Arnold himself (interspersed with comments by folks who figured prominently in his life, including James Cameron, Danny DeVito, and others), and in a word, it was great. The three segments cover the Governator’s early life and body building career, his movie career, and his stint as governor of California. The show doesn’t pull any punches, and the last segment includes the affair with his housekeeper and the son he had with her.
I’d heard of Arnold Schwarzenegger and sort of had a vague idea that he was a movie star/body builder before the movie Terminator was released. When I saw Terminator and Terminator II and I thought he was great in both. Then I saw Predator, and I liked him even more. I watched (or rented the VHS tape back in those days) of just about everything he’s ever done. When Arnold ran for governor of California, he had my vote both times. I’m a fan. I like the guy.
If you are a Netflix subscriber, queue up and watch Arnold. You’ll like it.
In 2010 the company I worked for gave me my pink slip due to budgetary cuts. I was feeling distraught and lost because I had been working there for 8 years. Fortunately, I had a great director who helped by transferring me from a management position into a project manager slot that would be fully remote.
Remote positions at the time were called working from home. It didn’t take long for me to ask myself a question: What if I didn’t have a home? This mostly was bar talk amongst friends and I didn’t expect the crazy scenarios we discussed to ever become a reality. Well…it seems planting those seeds in my mind was all it took for them to nurture, and then to grow into 13 years of almost nonstop travel.
The first two years were mostly spent learning to excel in my new position as a project manager along with clumsily discovering how to adjust my work/life balance in creative ways. This involved motorcycling throughout New England in between work responsibilities.
Something I learned early is that there are McDonald’s with wi-fi everywhere, and at the time it was one of the better places to stop to respond to emails or for a conference call (this was a life prior to riding a BMW, so I didn’t require Starbucks). I timed my rides to reach these locations 10 minutes prior to conference calls. This allowed me time to set up and prepare for them as needed.
The first day as a remote employee I decided to knock out a ride from Boston to Route 17 in northern Vermont. Route 17 is also known as the “Little Tail of the Dragon.” It was May and I was literally working off my Ducati Monster M1100 as I tore up Vermont. Since it took so long to reach Route 17 it made sense to ride it twice to ensure the long ride was worth it and regain the curve back in my tires. It may have been one of the best days I have ever had working and figured this newfound freedom would provide many opportunities to fill in the gaps that I had been missing by going into a regular office day to day.
Riding all the way to Vermont from Boston on your first day in a new position probably was a bit of overkill. I was missing calls and hadn’t noticed my phone was constantly ringing in my pocket (an easy oversight being so heavily focused on riding). I was in flight formation and setting the pace for a flock of mallards that happened to be flying down the White River, which ran parallel to Route 100. Unbeknownst to me the phone continued ringing as the Ducati’s Termignoni exhaust roared through the Green Mountains while I leaned into corners that followed the river.
Shortly after parting ways with the mallards and crossing back into New Hampshire, I saw some lights behind me. It was a New Hampshire State Trooper. Dammit! I am sure I was speeding, but the question always is how fast. It was fast. As I began talking to the State Trooper to try to minimize the damage, I could now hear my cell phone ringing. I picked it up as the Trooper ran my information. It was my new manager based in Virginia calling to introduce herself and ask if I had noticed that I had missed a call I needed to be on. I stated I was just out getting a coffee (which was 100% true; it’s just that the coffee was 200 miles away). This was probably one of my more challenging multitask scenarios (i.e., signing a speeding ticket while on an introductory call with my manager). To this day I feel I would have been able to get out of that ticket had I not been so distracted by work. Lesson 1 as a remote employee learned.
After that day I knew I should take my work a bit more seriously and slow my pace. I continued to ride, but always ensured I attended every call (which I did over the next 13 years). My work ethic has always been strong, and I didn’t want to compromise this position and what I could possibly do with it by losing my focus. Continuing to merge my work responsibilities with riding was something that I honed to an art form.
Once I was comfortable performing my work one or two days a week off the motorcycle, I thought I would step the adventure up a notch: California. I had relatives in Oakland and there was a Harley rental in San Francisco, a short transit ride away. It made sense to fly there for two weeks and work remotely in a new environment and time zone to see how I would perform.
The test run couldn’t have gone smoother. I was on Pacific Time when my team was on Eastern Time. This ensured that by 1:00 p.m. all my tasks and calls were completed. Having earlier workdays provided much more time to explore San Francisco and the Bay Area. A couple of vacation days in the mix allowed time to rent a Harley in San Francisco and take a 3-day trip to Tahoe and Yosemite. Even though I was on vacation those days I felt obliged to join work calls whenever possible just to stay on top of my projects, while obtaining bonus points from management for doing so on my time off. I felt this made up for my missed meeting when I had first started this position in New Hampshire.
The California trip had solidified my abilities to work from anywhere. On the return flight to Boston my thoughts focused on a farfetched mindset: What if I don’t have a home? It would take a few months of planning and a solid leap of faith. As with all leaps of faith you never know where or how it will end, but I felt sure I could make this dream a reality. What I didn’t realize is how far I would take this and the new experiences my decision would deliver. I turned my life into Ferris Bueller’s Day Off on steroids over the next 13 years.
You might wonder: Where did I get that fantastic cover photo? The photo shows Trooper Ralph Dowgin, a New Jersey State Trooper who went on to command Troop D (the Troop that patrols the New Jersey Turnpike, the most heavily-traveled road in the country). I actually met Trooper Dowgin when I was a boy (my Dad knew him). The photo came to me from my good buddy Mike B, who retired as the New Brunswick, New Jersey, Chief of Police. Like they say, it’s a small world.
The story of police and military motorcycles is an intriguing one, espeically as it applies to the US War Department, Indian, and Harley-Davidson. During World War II, the US government bought motorcycles from both Harley and Indian, but the positions taken by Harley and Indian were worlds apart. The Feds told both manufacturers they had to stop producing for the civilian market and focus exclusively on military motorcycles. Indian did what they were told. Harley told the government that they, not some government bureaucrat, would decide who to sell motorcycles to. Harley called the government’s bluff, and they got it right. The War Department continued to buy Harleys as Harley continued selling to the civilian market, and the results were predictable: When the war ended Harley still had a civilian customer base and Indian did not. Indian struggled for a few years trying to regain market share, but the damage was done and the handwriting was on the wall. Indian went under in the early 1950s.
If you buy a copy of The Complete Book of Police and Military Motorcycles, understand that it describes the market as it existed when the book was published in 2001. Things are a little bit different now. Future plans call for an update to include today’s military and police motorcycles, but that’s far in the future and the book will sell for a bunch more than $9.95. I’ll have a Kindle ebook version at some point in the future, too, but it’s not going to be immediate. For now, it’s print only, and it’s only $9.95. Spend the bucks, make a friend for life, and don’t forget: Click on those popup ads!
People collect for different reasons. Some are completists…they collect to own every variation of an item ever made. Others have a theme…something guides their collecting and they can’t rest until they have acquired items that show all aspects of that theme. Still others are brand loyalists…they want everything associated with a particular marque. Others collect to rekindle memories…items in their collections bring back better times. And people collect different things. All kinds of things.
As I surveyed the expansive and overwhelming contents of Bill’s Old Bike Barn, I wondered: What made Bill tick? What fueled his desire to collect? I asked the question and Bill answered it, but I’ll wait until the end of this blog to share the answer. Hold that thought and we’ll return to it.
When I knew we were going to Pennsylvania and my wife Susie Googled motorcycle museums…well, silly me. I thought we would find a motorcycle museum if I was lucky and it might make a worthy topic for a blog or two. Maybe an article in a motorcycle magazine. Susie gets the credit for finding Bill’s Old Bike Barn. I didn’t realize we had hit the Mother Lode. We had stumbled into a more advanced collection than we had ever seen.
No, wait: I need to restate that. It would be unfair to call what I found in Bill’s Old Bike Barn a collection. I realized when assembling this story that what Bill created is not a mere collection. It is, instead, a collection of collections. Bill’s Old Bike Barn might have started as a motorcycle collection, but it goes beyond that.
Way beyond.
Anybody can collect and display motorcycles. Well, not anybody, but you get the point. In the course of curating a collection, advanced collectors, the guys who go exponential and become collectors of collections, amass collections of all kinds of things. Then the question becomes: How do you display your collections? What’s the right format?
Bill had the answer to that, too.
Billville.
Hey, if your name is Bill, and you have a collection of collections, why not start your own town, and display each collection in different stores and businesses and government offices, all in a magical place called Billville. You see, if you have your own town, you will also have streets on which these shops are located. And you can park different cool motorcycles on the streets in front of the shops. The Billville concept solves several challenges simultaneously. The streets let you display the motorcycles and the shops. People see the shops and what’s in them and they want to add to the collection, so they bring in and contribute more things you can exhibit. The shops grow and the town of Billville thrives. Sense a pattern here?
Bill, at home on the streets of Billville.One of many streets in Billville. The streets in Billville are lined with something even better than gold: Vintage motorcycles and Bill’s collection of collections. Bill’s collections are hypnotic in their appeal.
Being a world-renown blogger and motojournalist, I had the grand tour of Billville, led by Bill himself. Bill led, I followed, and my jaw dropped with each turn and every stop in Billville. Billville. I get it. It’s brilliant.
The Billville camera shop. Nothing is for sale, much is on display, and the inventory exceeds 6,000 pieces.
We started in front of the Billville camera shop. I had my Nikon D810 along for the shots you see here. I’ve been a photography enthusiast all my life. I asked Bill if he was into photography, too, when he mentioned the camera shop. “Nah, I just had a few cameras on display. Folks see that and they come back a week later with a bag of old cameras. There’s more than 6,000 cameras in the collection now.”
There’s a very cool Norton parked in front of the Billville Camera Shop. The bike behind it is a Velocette. Per capita motorcycle ownership in Billville is off the charts. Billville is huge, the streets are long, the shops are amazing, and the collections are dreamlike. Pick a collectible item, and there’s a Billville shop housing a collection for it. Into Coca-Cola memorabilia?
An Aermacchi Harley and Harley’s attempt to penetrate the scooter market, the Topper, parked in front of the Billville Coca-Cola shop.
You can’t have a town without a police department, and police paraphernalia are collectible. Billville has its own PD, with a police stuff collection.
The Billville PD and its neighbor…a shop with walls constructed entirely of collectible beer cans.Every police officer who wanders through the Billville PD probably leaves a department patch.The Billville PD has, as you might imagine, its own contingent of motor officers.
Bill told a funny story about visiting firemen. After seeing the collections, they asked Bill if Billville had a fire department. When they asked the question, Billville did not. So the visiting fireman offered to donate their vintage fire engine if Bill would build the Billville Fire Department around it.
A vintage Mack fire engine. A local fire department donated it.
“Then I had to make a fire bike,” Bill said. After all, this is a motorcycle museum.
Bill and his personally-crafted fire bike. This is cool stuff.
Bicycles? You bet. Billville has an interesting collection. Check out the badging on the one shown in these photos.
Want to guess who made this bicycle?Check out the chainring. HD. Cool.Harley-Davidson. I had never seen one of these before visiting Bill’s Old Bike Barn.My Nikon was earning its keep during my visit to Bill’s Old Bike Barn. If you make the trip, don’t forget your camera.
Some people collect toys. Bill is one of them. What would a town be without a toy store?
Another place to display one of Bill’s collections. That’s a cool two-stroke Harley parked on the street in front of it.
Billville has a post office and a restaurant. Take a look at the ornamental wrought iron surrounding the restaurant. Bill told me he purchased huge quantities of wrought iron when he was buying up motorcycle dealer inventories in Europe.
The Billville post office is on the left; the restaurant is on the right.A vintage bike in front of the finest dining in Billville.
Are you into Avon collectables? Billville has you covered there, too.
A 1970s Harley two-stroke and a vintage CL Honda Scrambler. Bill’s collections are extensive and varied.
There are several spiral cases throughout Billville. I thought they were purely decorative. But there seemed to be more to see upstairs, so I climbed one. My reward was more collections. How about phones? Yep, those, too.
Some of the phones in the Bill’s Old Bike Barn phone collection……and more phones.
Bill told me again about people bringing things to him. Matchbox cars? Why not?
Matchbox cars line a wall. There’s something for everyone here. Dads, moms, and kids.
Into horse collectibles? You bet.
Horsepower. Lots of it.
As you might guess, there was an area for Elvisabilia (or should that be Presleyana?).
The King.
If you were wondering, Billville has a dentist’s office, too, complete with vintage dentistry equipment.
Vintage dental stuff. The photo ops in Bill’s Old Bike Barn were endless.
And, of course, Billville includes the motorcycles, motorcycle engines, and everything-associated-with-motorcycles collection. Bill’s collection doesn’t stick to only one marque. You’ll see Harley, Indian, Moto Guzzi, Triumph, Norton, Velocette, Honda, Yamaha, Zündapp, Peugeot, and many, many more motorcycles.
An airbrush painting on one of Bill’s trailers. Check out the vintage Harley and sidecar.Now, check out the actual vintage Harley and sidecar.A vintage Knucklehead in the main hall. Note the spiral staircases on the right. There’s more up there, folks. Lots more.Vintage Indians. Some are left unrestored; others are restored to better-than-new condition.
Bill’s collection is eclectic. The collections themselves are eclectic, and within the collection, the pieces Bill has exhibited vary widely. He’s not just a Harley guy or an Indian guy. He likes anything that’s interesting. You saw the prior blog about Bill’s favorite ride, a Zündapp. Other bikes pepper his collection, including one I always wanted…an early SL350 Honda twin. It’s the color I always wanted, too, and it’s in its 100% original, unrestored condition. I stared at the SL so hard I might have worn away some of its paint.
A stunning and unrestored SL350 Honda.Ah, the mileage on the SL350 Honda…the motorcycle is over half a century old, and it has but 4,000 miles on the clock. Wow.
So, back to that question I posed at the top of this blog: What makes a collector collect? Everyone has their reasons, and like I said at the beginning of this blog, I wanted to know Bill’s. I asked the question. Bill smiled, lowered his gaze, and answered softly. “I like to see peoples’ reactions when they see the collections,” he said. That being the case, I think Bill must have really enjoyed our visit. We sure did.
A sparkadillo. There’s a lot of folk art in Bill’s Old Bike Barn.
Our first blog on Bill’s Old Bike Barn? Hey, here it is:
Any story about Bill’s Old Bike Barn has to feature Bill Morris, the man who created it all. The museum and its contents are amazing. The man is even more so.
Bill grew up right where I met him: Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania, the site of Bill’s Old Bike Barn. Bill started working at age 11 on the farm, and he never stopped. Bill is 83 now, something I found hard to believe (he doesn’t look or act like it), and his energy level tops most young folks I know. Let’s start with a Reader’s Digest biosketch. Bill joined the US Army (Corps of Engineers) from 1957 to 1960, and then went to work for Chrysler building Plymouths and Dodges in Newark, Delaware. After two years with Chrysler it was back to Bloomsburg and a job with the local Harley-Davidson dealer.
Parts is parts. Keep what you like, sell the rest. That’s a gold-plated Knucklehead engine on the right. As in real gold. “Never could sell it,” Bill said. There was no regret in that observation.
Harley and Bloomsburg Harley were a good deal; Bill went to Harley-Davidson’s motorcycle technician school in 1966. Yep, he’s a factory-certified motorcycle tech. He worked for Bloomsburg Harley from 1966 to 1969.
Ah, 1969. Let’s see…Hollywood was going ga ga over The Wild Angels, Easy Riders, and other miscellaneous motorcycle movie mayhem. The chopper craze was sweeping through America and the rest of the developed world. Bill wanted a chopper, and a builder in Westminster, California advertised that if you had five old hogs to trade, they would build a California custom for you at no charge. Bill asked if he sent 18 old hogs, would they build him a California chopper and return some cash? The answer, of course, was yes, so Bill shipped 18 old Harleys to California and waited. And waited. And waited. He finally went to California to see what was happening and found a rundown chopper shop big on dreams but short on ability.
Bill hung around California for 60 days, bought a pickup truck, and took a partially crafted California chopper back to Pennsylvania. “I figured if those clowns could make custom motorcycles, I could, too,” Bill explained. And he did. The bike Bill hauled back to Bloomsburg needed wiring, wheels, and more, but that was simple stuff. Bill was, after all, a factory-trained motorcycle tech.
Indeed, a Silent Gray Fellow. It’s one of many Holy Grail bikes in Bill’s Old Bike Barn.
Bill’s Custom Cycles emerged, and Bill’s talent (as a custom motorcycle builder, a collector, and a businessman) took center stage. Bill purchased his first collectible motorcycle for $20, a 1928 single-cylinder Harley-Davidson, but he quickly realized the best way to acquire collectibles and saleable parts was to buy out other motorcycle businesses and that’s what he did. When Harley Davidson entered troubled times in the early 1970s, Bill purchased the assets of 28 Harley dealerships in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Maryland, Delaware, and in an international reach, the Netherlands, Belgium, and South Africa. Bill tells of a recurring theme: A dealer would ask $600,000 for their inventory, Bill would offer a quarter of that amount, the dealer would decline the offer, and then came the call a few months later asking if Bill’s $150,000 offer was still good. It was, of course. Bill knew his business.
Bill loves sidecars. At one point, he bought a European dealer’s entire stock of 60 sidecars and brought them back to Pennsylvania. He sold them all quickly.Wow. Just wow. Get used to that word. You’ll use it a lot at Bill’s Old Bike Barn.Would you pay $200 for a used Panhead back in the day? Bill did. I was going to offer him what he paid, but thought better of it.
Bill’s business model was to sell the parts and complete motorcycles from his constantly growing and profitable inventory. He sold via mail order and became one of the largest sources of Harley parts and Harleyana in the world. All the while, he kept the collectible motorcycles and parts that caught his interest, and he built custom bikes.
Bill has a way with the ladies. On this road trip, we hit Gettysburg, Hershey, the Flight 93 National Memorial in Shanksville, the Jersey shore, and more. But all the girls wanted to talk about was Bill.
While acquiring the inventories of motorcycle shops and dealers going under, Bill built a massive collection of Harley signs. That lead to a lawsuit with Harley as the plaintiff and Bill in their crosshairs…Harley didn’t want anyone displaying “authorized Harley-Davidson dealer” signs if they weren’t, you know, an authorized Harley dealer. Bill eventually settled the suit by opening a second building (the origin of Bill’s Old Bike Barn) where he could display the signs but not sell Harley products. “That made the lawyers happy,” Bill explained. It was only a short walk up the hill behind Bill’s Custom Cycles, but it satisfied Harley’s legal beagles.
Bill loves motorcycle signs, so much so that Harley sued him for displaying them a few decades ago. The lawsuit was a good thing: It was the catalyst for Bill’s Old Bike Barn.
Around the same time, Bill became a Moto Guzzi dealer (one of the very first in the United States) and he still has a love for the Italian motorcycles. Moto Guzzi was just entering the United States and they approached Bill. He rented a gas station and just like that, voilà, Bill was a Moto Guzzi dealer (he held the franchise from 1970 to 1975). As Bill explains it, it was a match made in Heaven: He had no money and Moto Guzzi had almost no bikes. The bikes would come in via air one at a time to Teterboro, New Jersey (a two and a half hour road trip from Bloomsburg).
A beautiful Guzzi Ambassador. These things sound more like a Harley than a Harley did. They are beautiful motorcycles. I always wanted one.
Like many people, Bill loved the look and the sound of those early 1970s Guzzis (they sounded a lot like Harley-Davidsons, with a wonderful lopey potato potato exhaust note).
California chopper chic meets Mandello del Laurio.Paint themes that were all the rage back in the day. Think Dennis Hopper Does Italy.
As a custom bike builder Bill knew a blank palette when he saw one, and he rebuilt an early Guzzi police bike as a 1970s chopper. It’s on display in Bill’s Old Bike Barn. In fact, Bill has an entire room he calls Guzziland, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Guzziland will be the focus of a near-term future ExNotes blog.
Stay tuned, my friends. Bill’s Old Bike Barn is a fun story. I’m having a lot of fun writing it.
Miss our first installment on Bill’s Old Bike Barn? Hey, here it is:
The latest news to sweep across the ether is that BSA is being revived in India. Eh, we’ll see.
I’m naturally skeptical about revivals. Lord knows Norton has been through a few, and last I checked, like Julius Caesar they’re still dead. Indian (not bikes from India, but the American Indian brand) should maybe be called the Easter bike based on how many times they’ve been resurrected. And there was Henderson for a while maybe 20 years ago (remember that flash in the pan?). Triumph…well you know that story. They rose again, but it wasn’t really the original Triumph…it was just the name, but then they reintroduced the vertical twin Bonneville, except the displacement increased until the marvelous 650cc we used to know grew to 1200cc and the bike gained a couple of hundred pounds, give or take. I’d like to see Bud Ekins jump one of the new Bonnevilles escaping from a German POW camp. He might have better luck getting airborne with a Panzer.
And then of course there’s Royal Enfield, but they’re technically not a resurrection. They never went out of business. Well, maybe they sort of did, but before the Japanese bikes drove the final nail in the British motorcycle industry coffin (with a lot of help from the British motorcycle industry, who’s official motto seemed to be “too little, too late”), the original Royal Enfield (the folks in England) starting building bikes in India, and when the Brits went belly up, the folks running the Indian plant watched, shrugged, and kept on building. I ride an Indian Royal Enfield, but it’s not an Indian like most folks in the US motorcycling community use the word. Well, okay, it is, but it’s from India. It’s not a Polaris Indian from America.
Confused yet?
This BSA thing might be cool, though. I’d like to see it work, and if it works as well as my Royal Enfield (which is as fine as any motorcycle made anywhere), it would be a good thing. I always wanted a Beezer when I was a kid, and I suppose owning one now would make me a geezer with a Beezer (like the kid’s book, Sheep in a Jeep).
In the meantime, here are a few more photos I’ve shot of BSAs at the Hansen Dam Britbike meet in California, in Australia, and elsewhere over the years. We can only hope the resurrected bikes look as good.
You know what I’d like to see? I’d like to see two bikes from the 1960s resurrected…a 1966 Triumph T120R and a 1965 Electra Glide (the last year of the Panhead, and the first year of the electric start). Those are two of the most beautiful motorcycles ever made. The HD photo below is an earlier Duo Glide, but you get the idea. Make them reliable, substitute enough aluminum for steel so that when you add all the smog and other regulatoria the bikes weigh in at their mid-’60s weights, and make them reliable. Zongshen, you guys listening?
If they did either of those two resurrections, I’d be in. In a heartbeat. I’d be Charley on a Harley. Johnnie on a Bonny. Whatever.
Hey, if resurrections are what you want, check this out!
Hear me out. Like you I’ve read all the reviews on Harley’s new Pan America Adventure-Glide and they have been uniformly positive. Surprising is the word most frequently used by the tattered remnants of the moto-press when describing the Pan America. And it is surprising.
I’m not likely to ever test ride a Pan America. I offer Harley-Davidson nothing but suffering and heartache. Why would Harley loan me a bike in a category I pretty much despise? I can’t stand big Adventure bikes. I don’t like them one little bit. I think they are dangerous off road. Anyone who sends me one to test ride is a fool and Harley-Davidson’s marketing department is not populated by fools. Luckily I don’t need to ride one because Kevin Duke, the hardest working man in motorcycle journalism, says the Pan America is a good bike and that’s all you really need to know.
The no compromise hook in this story is the most impressive part of the new Pan America. It’s the first Harley (since the late 1960s) that competes head to head with the best the world has to offer and does it at a competitive price. In all areas the new bike is acceptable, meets expectations and is even, dare I say, good.
Most all the high-end, heavy, dangerously inadequate offroad Adventure bikes clock in at around 20,000 US dollars retail and they all weigh nearly the same ground-crushing 600 pounds. It must be a class requirement. Check out the manufacturer-provided spec sheets on a GS BMW, Ducati Multi Service, and KTM Breakdown. All of the numbers are within spitting distance of each other.
And that’s the amazing part. Harley-frigging-Davidson has made a competent motorcycle for the same price as everyone else. There’s no brand penalty. Harley-Davidson has made a motorcycle that the owner isn’t required to look through leather-fringed, nostalgia-tinted lenses to justify. No more having to tell non-Harley riders that they don’t get it when their questions turn pointed. Like all cults, the Harley cult requires actively looking the other way when hard facts and performance figures per dollar are bandied about.
With the Pan America there’s no need to believe in the Harley mystique. There’s no need to defend anemic performance by waving an American flag. The Pan America stands on its own merits as a motorcycle, nothing more. Is it as good as the other big Adventure bikes? I can’t say but the fact that it’s spoken of in the same breath and held up in comparison to the world’s best Adventure bikes is a stunning turnaround for a company that seemed hopelessly stuck in neutral by its mad marketing genius.
As much as I hate big Adventure bikes, I love the new Harley-Davidson Pan America.
I hope it’s a harbinger of change. I hope it succeeds beyond Harley’s wildest dreams and ushers in a new era of 150-horsepower Sportsters that handle, stop and are as fast as any other guy’s bikes. The late 1960s was the last time Sportsters were hot. That’s a long, long time to rest on your laurels. Let’s hope the Pan American gives stodgy old Harley-Davidson new life and a desire to be measured against the very best. Listen, if there’s any way you can afford to go out and buy one, go out and buy one. Tell Harley I sent you. Maybe they’ll even let me take one for a ride.
Berk, on right, telling Gresh to go back to Starbucks and fetch a Pumpkin Spice Latte for him.
Listicles, Gresh calls them…articles based around the (fill in the number) best things to do, worst things to do, motorcycles, movies, and more. One of Gresh’s friends told him that lists get more hits than any other kind of Internet article. I was a bit skeptical when I first heard that, but Google Analytics doesn’t lie: When we do a listicle, our hits go up big time. And comments, too. We like comments. And a lot of this blogging game is about the hits and comments. Gresh’s The 5 Stupidest Ideas in Motorcycling, my recent The Big Ride: 5 Factors Affecting Daily Mileage, and other ExNote listicles…they’ve all done extremely well.
This listicle thing has me thinking in terms of the five best whatever when I’m spitballing new blog ideas, and the list du jour is on motorcycle books. It’s a topic near and dear to my heart and one we’ve touched on lightly before, although the emphasis in the past has usually been on a single book. I think I’ve read just about every motorcycle book ever published, and I particularly like the travel stories. That said, I think this introduction is long enough. Let’s get to it.
Riding the Edge
Riding the Edge, in my opinion, is the greatest motorcycle adventure story ever told, made all the more significant by two facts. The first is that Dave Barr, the author, did the ride after losing both legs to a land mine in Africa; the second is that Dave did the ride on a beat up old ’72 Harley Super Glide that had 100,000 miles on the odometer before he started.
I know Dave Barr and I’ve ridden with him. I can tell you that he is one hell of a man, and Riding the Edge is one hell of a story. The ride took four years, mostly because Dave pretty much financed the trip himself. He’d ride a country or two, run out of money, get a job and save for a bit, and then continue. I read Riding the Edge nearly two decades ago, and it’s the book that lit my fire for international motorcycle riding. None of the rides I’ve done (even though I’ve ridden through a few of the countries Barr did) begins to approach Dave Barr’s accomplishments. The guy is my hero.
Riding the Edge is written in an easy, conversational style. I’ve probably read my copy a half-dozen times. In fact, as I type this, I’m thinking I need to put it on my nightstand and read some of my favorite parts again. If you go for any of the books on this list, Riding the Edge is the one you have to read.
The Longest Ride
Emilio Scotto. Remember that name, and remember The Longest Ride. This is a guy who had never left his native Argentina, thought it might be cool to see the world on a motorcycle, bought a Gold Wing (which he named the Black Princess), and then…well, you can guess the rest. He rode around the world on a motorcycle.
Emilio took 10 years for his trip around the world, and he covered 500,000 miles in the process. He’s another guy who is good with a camera. I thoroughly enjoyed The Longest Ride. I think you will, too.
Two Wheels Through Terror
Glen Heggstad…that’s another name you want to remember. Mix one martial arts expert, a Kawasaki KLR 650, a kidnaping (his own), a trip through South America, and a natural propensity for writing well and you’ll have Two Wheels Through Terror. I love the book for several reasons, including the fact that Mr. Heggstad used a KLR 650 (one of the world’s great adventure touring motorcycles), the way he tells the story of his kidnaping in Colombia (a country I rode in), and his wonderful writing.
I’ve met Glen a couple of times. The first time was at a local BMW dealership when he spoke of his travels; the second time was at his booth at the Long Beach International Motorcycle Show. Glen is a hell of a man, a hell of a writer, and a hell of a fighter (all of which emerge in Two Wheels Through Terror). He is a guy who just won’t quit when the going gets tough. I admire the man greatly.
Jupiter’s Travels
Ah, Ted Simon, one of the granddaddies of adventure motorcycle riding. I’d heard about his book, Jupiter’s Travels, for years before I finally bought a copy and read it, and then I felt like a fool for not having read it sooner.
Jupiter’s Travels was one of the first books about riding a motorcycle around the world, and what made it all the more interesting for me was that Simon didn’t do it as a publicity stunt. No big sponsors, no support vehicles, no nothing, a lot like the other great journeys on this list. It was what the guy wanted to do, so he quit his job and did it. Simon’s bike was a 500cc air-cooled Triumph, and I liked that, too. I’m a big fan of the old British vertical twins (the Triumph was a state-of-the-motorcycle-art when Ted Simon did his ride). Trust me on this, folks: Jupiter’s Travels is a motoliterature classic, and it’s one you need to read.
10 Years on 2 Wheels
Helge Pedersen is another name you want to know. He is a phenomenal world traveler, writer, and photographer, and 10 Years on 2 Wheels is a phenomenal read.
What sets 10 Years on 2 Wheels apart is the photography, and you get a sense of that just by seeing the cover (this is one of those rare books that you can, indeed, judge by its cover). 10 Years on 2 Wheels is what inspired me to get serious about capturing great photographs during my travels, and Helge’s photos are fabulous (they’re art, actually). This is a physically large book, and that makes the images even more of a treat.
Next Up: The Five Worst Motorcycle Books
Look for a blog in the near future on the five worst motorcycle books I’ve ever read. That one will be tough, because I pretty much like any book about motorcycles, but I’m guessing it will elicit a lot of comments.
So that’s it: Our list of the five best motorcycle books. What do you think? Leave your comments and suggestions here. We want to hear them!
Zombies. No matter how many times you hit them, they won’t go down…goofy targets, to be sure, but lots of fun.
No motorcycle rides today…just a fun day at the range with some of my motorcycle and shooting buddies, and the milsurp rifles.
We get together every month or so to do this, and sometimes we let a few too many months slide by. That was the case this time; it had probably been 3 or 4 months since we last had one of our informal matches. We ordinarily have around 10 shooters show up. This one was on short notice but we still had 5 of us get together. It’s grand fun and we always have a great Mexican lunch following the match. There’s something about having a rifle match (informal or otherwise) with firearms that are 70 to 110 years old. It’s cool.
About this match business…it’s relaxed as hell, as you can probably tell from the targets, and it really isn’t a competition. It’s just a bunch of guys with a common interest getting together to have fun. Most of the time we don’t even bother to score the targets. The company and the conversation are the best parts; we really don’t care about declaring a winner. We have some interesting firearms, too.
Duane and his German K98 Mauser. Duane rides an RX3 and an Indian. The rifle is a Nazi-proof-marked World War II weapon, which makes it about 70 years old.Willie and his US M1 Carbine. Willie also brought along a German Mauser (it’s to his right). Willie rides an RX3 and a TT250. The M1 is a World War II weapon.My Russian Mosin-Nagant. The Mosin-Nagant was designed in the early 1890s. This particular one was built in 1942, and most likely saw service in World War II. It’s very accurate.
Here’s a short video of Duane firing his World War II K98 Mauser…
You might wonder…why a gun article on a motorcycle blog?
Well, there are a couple of reasons. The first is that I’m always amazed at how many riders are also into shooting. The two interests seem to go hand in hand. And then there’s another aspect: The companies that manufactured both firearms and motorcycles. There are more than a few manufacturers who have done that.
You guys and gals into vintage bikes certainly know of BSA. The BSA initials stand for Birmingham Small Arms, and if you look closely at the emblem on older BSAs, you’ll see it’s a set of three stacked rifles…
A 1939 BSA M20. Note the stacked rifle logo on the engine.
Royal Enfield is another company with a military lineage. Enfield was originally a British company (their motorcycles are manufactured in India today). Take another look at Rick’s Lee Enfield rifle up above. Yep, there’s a connection.
Hey, how about Benelli? That was an Italian motorcycle company (Benelli motorcycles are now made in China), but they also have a line of shotguns. Benelli made pistols for a while, too. I have a Benelli 9mm handgun.
Iver Johnson is yet another company with a dual lineage. They made motorcycles a century ago, and they are still manufacturing firearms.
I don’t know that Harley ever made guns, but they manufactured munitions components until very recently. I know about that because I used to work for a company in that industry.
I’m sure there are more companies than just the few I’ve listed here, and I’m going to research this a bit more. I don’t think it’s just coincidence that more than a few manufacturers decided to make both bikes and guns. Motorcycles and firearms are two products with something in common: They have a special feel to them, an appeal that reaches into our souls. They are more than just mashed-up machined metal mechanisms. There’s a commonality, a similarity, and maybe a sympatico between motorcycles and firearms, one that attracts both manufacturers and riders. We see it right here on the ExhaustNotes blog (every time we post a firearms-related piece, our hits go through the roof). I’ll post a more in-depth blog on this motorcycle/firearm connection down the road. It’s a fascinating topic. Maybe there’s a book in it!
The first two years were mostly spent learning to excel in my new position as a project manager along with clumsily discovering how to adjust my work/life balance in creative ways. This involved motorcycling throughout New England in between work responsibilities.
You know what I’d like to see? I’d like to see two bikes from the 1960s resurrected…a 1966 Triumph T120R and a 1965 Electra Glide (the last year of the Panhead, and the first year of the electric start). Those are two of the most beautiful motorcycles ever made. The HD photo below is an earlier Duo Glide, but you get the idea. Make them reliable, substitute enough aluminum for steel so that when you add all the smog and other regulatoria the bikes weigh in at their mid-’60s weights, and make them reliable. Zongshen, you guys listening?
, in my opinion, is the greatest motorcycle adventure story ever told, made all the more significant by two facts. The first is that Dave Barr, the author, did the ride 
What sets 
