My First Harley Davidson
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by: Fred Fish
Total views: 102
Word Count: 585
Date: Tue, 1 Jun 2010 Time: 6:03 PM
It caught my eye while driving past the local tattoo parlor one sunny afternoon. It was just sitting there unassumingly with a big for sale sign hanging on the headlight. The forks were extended and the gleaming chrome on the straight pipes instantaneously grabbed my attention. It had the look and that unmistakable stance that just screamed Harley. I did a double take, and without slowing down, I recklessly negotiated a U-turn in the middle of a busy intersection. I pulled into the gravel parking lot of the shop and quickly jumped out of my car to get a closer look at what I was confident was an undiscovered treasure. Within a few seconds, a rough looking dude in a leather motorcycle jacket, covered from head to toe in ink, burst out to greet me. He introduced himself as tattoo George and flashed me a nearly toothless grin. After only a few words, I knew that George was one of those guys who was pretty scary to look at, but not nearly as scary on the inside.
I had been looking for a vintage chopper for a long time, but had yet to find one I could afford. I could tell by the style of the flame job and the sissy bar that this bike had been chopped sometime in the late sixties or early seventies. It was exactly what I had been looking for, a 1964 sporty that had all the right parts, but just needed a little tender loving restoration. I am sure George saw the awestruck glaze in my eyes so he asked me if I wanted to take a spin. He pulled another old bar hopper out from behind the shop and we tore off down the road, tattoo George in his motorcycle leathers, and me in my white bread shorts and flip flops. Leather motorcycle jacket or not, I was in heaven. There is simply no sound that compares to two old Harleys with straight pipes thundering in tandem down a freshly paved road. Needless to say, I bought that ragged old bone shaker on the spot. I knew it was just a few bolts shy of a basket case, but it mattered not, for I was in love.
About a year into the restoration process, I discovered that the cases on a 1964 Sportster did not allow for an electric starter upgrade. This was a sad day for me. That old iron head always ran great, but it was notoriously cold blooded when it came to getting it started. Even when it was dialed in, you had to kick the hell out of it before it would fire up. Time after time, I found myself sweating through my motorcycle leathers before I could get a decent ride in. When it did finally start, my motorcycle jackets usually ended up slung over something in my garage while I took off down the road trying to get my t-shirt to dry out. Not only that, because of all that kicking and thrashing, I ended up having to endure multiple hernia surgeries. Needless to say, I vowed I would never own another bike with only a kick starter. By the way, if you need to find a mens leather motorcycle jacket, check out the link listed below.
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