Harley-Davidson Dressers vs. Choppers-The 1960s

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Dressers vs. Choppers - The 1960s
from Born To Be Wild
A History of the American Biker and Bikes
1847 - 2002

by Paul Garson and the editors of Easyriders

Chopped Harleys-Psychedelic Cycles-1960-1969

Harley-Davidson Panhead Engine

The Panhead Era

Harley-Davidson Shovelhead Engine

The Shovelhead Era

If you survived the 1960s - like made it through high school or college or Nam - you know it was the greatest, or the most disastrous, decade ever. Of course people that survived the 1930s, 1940s, 1950s, and so on thought the same thing. But the baby boomer Bros navigated through the radical '60s had more than LSD, the Beatles, and the Vietcong to deal with - although those three would be enough for any mortal man. We also felt the impact of assassin's bullets, the first football on the Moon, and a movie called Easy Rider. We'll never be the same again. Along the way we'll spotlight some choppers and dressers that may not be exactly "typical."

1960

We got the first artificial kidney, which was good news for those of us majoring in Smirnoff 101 at school. Alan "Rock 'n' Roll" Freed went to court on charges of "payola." The U-2 spy plane was shot down ever the USSR, with Francis Gary Powers surviving. He didn't take his cyanide pill, and Ike was really embarrassed, since it was the start of the Big Four summit.

We had a good reason now now to take a shower, thanks to Anthony Perkins and Psycho. Those of us who were teenagers when JFK came on the scene need no history lessons. Some called it Camelot; some called it a dynasty. Any way you looked at it, it was a very bright light that penetrated deep into the American psyche and heart. JFK was voted into the presidency at the end of the year, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Are You Dressed or Are You Chopped?

Some divide the 1960s Bro's world into two halves: the dressers and the choppers, maybe envisioning one side wearing polyester and bow ties and the other decked out in tattoos and steel-toed shoes boots. But in a 1960s world, where black and white were going down the tube in more ways than one, the split in the Bro's world was not so much a breakup as a diversification. One thing held them together stronger even than DNA or Super Glue, and that was the Milwaukee motorcycle.

In the simplest terms a dresser is a motorcycle all gussied up with saddlebags to carry road gear, a windshield to keep the bugs out of your teeth, a radio/CD/CB/DVD/MP3/BVD (you name it) to bring your tunes along, and untold other doodads and creature comforts to make the long haul seem shorter. Also called baggers because of their assortment of homemade and manufactured luggage, dressers were there from before the proliferation of cars and trucks, and were used to carry whole families about, to go shopping, to tote things. That includes sidecars to transport additional passengers or goods. It was later that they got "dressed up," and sometimes not exactly by Christian Dior.

During the '50s and '60s, it was not uncommon to spot a dresser festooned with more lights than the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center. Not to mention enough chrome ornamentation to cover the Moon, which during the '60s Americans would fix as a target. These brightly lit dressers, somewhere between living room furniture and, as rolling billboards for the sport, helped spread the charisma of motorcycling. As they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder and taste is in the mouth, but in America, along with freedom of speech, there was freedom of motorcycle.

And so it was with those that walked the chopper path. As their name implies, and first seen in the hands of so-called outlaws, these variations on the motorcycling theme had, in sharp contrast to the dressers, all the extraneous factory doodads trash-canned and stripped away. In the '60s the chopper was rapidly morphing into the custom bike as social trends and economics had their effects on both language and concepts. A custom bike or chopper was a personal statement made by its owner, in effect an extension of his character if not another part of his body, but definitely a thing of heart and mind, all wrenched together by passion, often of a unique and extreme kind.

While a Bro could have and enjoy both a dresser and a chopper/custom bike, often the two split off into some kind of symbolic dichotomy during the wild and crazy '60s. But when you attend a major event like Sturgis or Daytona or even a Motor Co. anniversary, you'll see a vast number of dressers. Among them you'll find your custom bikes, machines usually built for short runs to fun, although some Bros take their choppers on the long haul as well.

In a way you could paint custom bikes into the vibrant palette of the 1960s counterculture phenomena, with its paramount theme of individualism. They were part and parcel of the custom trend in bikes as Bros "painted" up their own individualistic masterpieces. It would all lead to the creation of a new American art form which, like jazz and rock 'n' roll, would take over the world's imagination.

A leader motorcycle historian, restorer, and collector (and friend of Von Dutch), the Southern Californian M.F. Egan sums up neatly the beginnings of the custom bike movement from the pages of

Easyriders:

Beatniks joined the bikers in exhibiting their anti-establishment dress and behavior in the late '50s. The choppers of this period were stripped-down stock Harleys and Indians with chopped fenders and wide tires. No custom after-market parts had surfaced, so the riders individualized their bikes with simple changes that included using XA forks, shortening fenders, or removing excess dresser parts.

In the middle of this activity was a little-known pin-striper in Southern California painting cars, trucks, and motorcycles in an all but forgotten art form. He was a pin-striper, painter, cartoonist, machinist, and customizer. His medium was guns, knives, hot rods, and motorcycles. His striping became so popular that it was referred to as Dutched. Formally untrained, Von Dutch's father, an Old World craftsman, taught him to letter and paint from the time he could walk. He did not socialize as a child. He buried himself in reading about, and manufacturing, explosives. Self-taught as a gunsmith, he was in great demand by gun shops while still attending high school. He was entrusted with a brand-new black Gullwing Mercedes when he saw the Mercedes covered in a vertical red and yellow flames from front to back. The flame job was an immediate success with hot rodders and motorcyclists. This leap from the conventional started a whole new direction for the anti-establishment-minded.

At what point in time did custom choppers explode on the scene and eclipse stock machines in popularity? When motorcycling as a sport was trying so hard to mainstream, the 1960s radical custom chopper came along to serve as the icon vehicle for the rowdy youth of the day to alienate straight society. Maybe defining choppers will help.

What most non-motorcycle people envision a chopper to be is an unsafe, stripped-down Harley-Davidson that strikes fear in the hearts of cage drivers and purple-haired old ladies wearing Coke bottle glasses. In reality, a chopper is a long, wide-forked, low-profile, ape-hanger-ed, dual-piped, noisy Bit Twin Harley. Take the front fender off a springer fork or Wide Glide, and you've got a wider looking front end. Replace the saddle tanks with a peanut tank, bolt up two extra-long straight pipes, and top the forks with sky-high handlebars, and you have a nonconforming, confrontational, stripped-down, noisy chopper. Add to the recipe a wild-eyed, tattooed Tasmanian devil, weaving down peaceful city streets at high speeds, and you have a chain-spinning custom chopper ridden by an outlaw biker.

Names like Ed Roth, Von Dutch, Gary Littlejohn, C.B. Clauson, Ron Paugh, Gary Bang, and Bill Carter were synonymous with the movers and shakers of the custom chopper era. The aforementioned contributed to innovating the flame-painted, extended fork, chrome-plated terror on two wheels. When did the novelty start? Choppers evolved for twenty years following The Wild One. Lots of talented artists, new after-market dealers, foreign manufacturers, film and TV producers, Vietnam vets, and outlaw bikers contributed to solidifying the resulting crazy and barbaric image and new reality. An entire new motorcycle fashion industry was born with the advent of the custom chopper, and over thirty-five years later it is a multi-billion dollar industry that is still growing. The chopper's popularity grew with the youth of the day, who identified with all that was wrong with American postwar culture. The baby boomers, born after World War II, were making their rite of passage into adulthood and wanted to be heard.

When did the extended fork craze come into fashion, turning the bobber from its racing origins into the flamboyant, uncivilized, flamed-out chopper of Easy Rider fame- complete with ape-hangers, narrow front wheels, non-brake hubs, straight pipes, and the reemergence of the rigid frame.

The start of the new craze of long front forks was related to this writer by Von Dutch in the 1060s. The story goes like this: Custom auto and motorcycle shows were started informally by loosely knit clubs in the early 1950x. Custom car magazines, like Car Craft and Hot Rod, were just coming into their own. Custom style magazines had not started yet. Ed Roth started the first chopper magazine in 1965. Bobbed Harleys with 2-inch longer military XA springer forks would be photographed at the car shows and printed later in custom car magazines. Photographers found that a low shot of a bike always appears more dynamic than a straight-on or downward-looking shot. When a photographer positioned himself real low for a two-thirds front-angle shot, the 2-inch longer front forks invariably looked longer in the distorted photo.

According to Von Hutch, this photo optical illusion gave birth to the extended fork craze. It wasn't long before builders picked up on the fictional style and began to adapt the extended fork look to their next creations by making the forks longer.

The extended-fork chopper in profile looked cool, thus fanning the flames of popularity, and encouraged builders to keep making the forks longer and longer until handling was hampered. They discovered early on that the longer they created the fork, the higher the bike grew at its midsection. There as a point where the front end became so long that the frame neck needed to be kicked out to rake and allow the motorcycle to bet back down for a rider's feet to be able to touch the ground. Handling suffered horribly on the radically extended forks. The front wheel no longer turned as on a conventional length fork but flopped from side to side, causing a braking action as opposed to turning smoothly through an arc. Of course, some bikes had not internals in the engine because they were just outrageous show machines. But once the magazine featured one and hit the newsstand, readers had to have on for the street. The stylish craze developed with little concern for road-ability.

Early custom builders had to fabricate the longer forks themselves. There were no after-market custom suppliers in the early stages. The Harley springer-fork rear leg had a special welded taper and about the same shape and taper as a Model A Ford suspension wishbone, which was twice as long and perfect for extending the rear springer legs. Builders combed the junkyards and found relatively inexpensive Model A wishbone replacements for lengthening the originals. Buchanan's in Monterrey Park, California, performed this work, using the Model A wishbones for years, until suppliers began to make the complete extended springer forks available. The front legs were round tubing that was readily available.

Extending the glide fork tubes took a different turn. In the beginning a simple device known as a slug was used. It was threaded into the upper end of the stock-length fork tube, extending its length by however long the slug was. The learning curve was violent; when the fork bounced and bottomed in the first pothole, it stuck.. The builder realized he had to lengthen the fork coil spring as well or put a spacer inside the tube to take up the extended length to tension or railroad tracks and would bend or break off, leaving the pilot in a lurch or tossed unceremoniously to the ground. Longer fork tubes and coil springs were the answers that eventually superseded the slugs.

Early custom builders had to fabricate the longer forks themselves. There were no aftermarket custom suppliers in the early stages. The Harley springer fork rear leg had a special wide taper and about the same shape and taper as a Model A Ford suspension wishbone, which was twice as long and perfect for extending the rear springer legs. Builders combed the junkyards and found relatively inexpensive Model A wishbone replacements for lengthening the originals. Buchanan's in Morterey Park, California performed this work, using the Model A wishbones for years, until suppliers began to make the complete extended springer forks available. The front legs were round tubing that was readily available.

Extending the glide fork tubes took a different turn. In the beginning a simple device known as a slug was used. It was threaded into the upper end of the stock length fork tube, extending its length by however long the slug was. The learning curve was violent; when the fork bounced and bottomed in the first pothole, it stuck. The builder realized he had to lengthen the fork coil spring as well or put a spacer inside the tube to take up the extended length to tension the internal coil spring. The slugs proved dangerous when hitting obstacles or railroad tracks and would bend or break off, leaving the pilot in a lurch or tossed unceremoniously to the ground. Longer fork tubes and coil springs were the answers that eventually superseded the slugs.

Dick Allen was one of the first in L.A. area to manufacture and market a successful, high-quality, custom-extended chrome springer fork that bolted right on the Harley of your choice. Earl Durfee in Stanton, California, was the first to make an extended Indian girder fork for Harleys. There were lots of knockoff builders making extended forks that posed perils to the rider. The low-buck custom springers were made out of cheap thin-wall tubing with little concern for the load that it would be bearing. Many of the gypo brand springer forks collapsed at the first RR crossing, wrecking the chopper and seriously injuring the rider. Like as not, the rider's next ride was to the cemetery, where he never got a chance to complain about the inferior quality of the product. Some of the early chopper after-market distributor and dealer sales and marketing ethics were as wild and unregulated as the Old West. If legal problems arose from inferior products, the manufacturer folded up his tent, changed his name, and moved on.

Through the evolving history of the cut-down bobber to custom chopper, the theme remained the same to the threshold of a new millennium in 1999. Stock engines were replaced by high-performance, blueprinted engines putting out tire-smoking ponies to the back wheel. The application of custom metal and paintwork was to enrich and individualized the styling, chassis upgrades were to improve control and handling, and all of these factors have remained consistent goals. The idea of personalizing and individualizing the motorcycle to reflect a rider's tastes goes back to the teens.

Let's not overlook the constant rider compulsion to upgrade and improve motorcycle superiority, whether it's in the acceleration or the braking department. The joke about braking on early motorcycles was that the rider had better plan his stops well in advance of execution because there was no such thing as an emergency stop. The rider may have ended up hitting whatever he was trying to avoid, whether it be a fence, ditch, or some other immovable object. When the outrageous extended-fork choppers came along in the early '60s, the front brake was quickly abandoned for style's sake, only to discover the 600 pound bike wouldn't stop well without one. Small, stylish custom front brakes were installed, didn't do the job, and were called, appropriately enough, hill holders. Sixty years after the pioneers resolved braking problems by installing a front brake for fashion's sake, the rider was confronted with the same dangerous uncertain ability to stop. The need for a front brake was even more critical for the big modern Harley-Davidsons, which now outweighed their early-model counterparts by several hundred pounds.

That's basically how bikes evolved from bobber to chopper. They were developed by backyard performance enthusiasts looming into nationally known street rod custom shops. The learning curve was shared from coast to coast. It was spread by the chopper magazine media, spawned by the blossoming custom motorcycle industry. Easyriders has evolved along with the rest of the custom industry and remains a major player in the custom motorcycle world.

"The Decade of Disaster and Triumph" Rolls On

1961: Ham and Nam - Ham, the chimp astronaut, gets paid an apple for an eighteen-minute ride in space. The Berlin Wall goes up: a new folk singer, Bob Dylan, attracts attention; we're dancing the twist. The first Yank is KIA in Nam. His name is James Davis.

Milwaukee: The Duo Glide was now called the Aristocrat of Motorcycles, and the Motor Co. described it as "making a clean break with the past." There was even new Harley-speak for its styling: Astro-flite.

1961: We Go Cuckoo - The Academy Award winner Lawrence of Arabia tells the life of T.E. Lawrence, who besides winning World War I in Arabia rode Brough-Superior motorcycles. Ken Kesey's One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest says it all.

Milwaukee: Not much new except a new paint choice, but Duo Glide still rode the cruiser crest as King of the Highway. Price tag for a '62 FLH was $1,400.

1963: Death doesn't take a holiday: A Buddhist monk torches himself in Saigon. November 22, 1963, happens in Dallas.

Milwaukee: This year's model, among other improvements/changes, saw the appearance of what Bros called the fudge-cycle pedal, a one piece rubber kikker, which replaced the bicycle style pedal that had been a Harley fixture since the teens.

1964: At the Bonneville Salt Flats, Craig Breedlove becomes the firs man to pass 500 mph on land. In Milwaukee, the Factory decided not to mess with a good thing, so Harley-Davidson just added an improved front chain oil system, new ignition key, and new tow-tone paint panel.

1965: Two-wheeling takes on a new meaning with the introduction of the skateboard. In Milwaukee, it was a landmark year for Harley and its Electra Glide Panhead model. The 6-volt system jumped to 12 to spin the new Delco electric starter motor, from which the Electra name was derived. But this was also the last year for the Panhead as Harley was shoveling in a whole new engine.

1966: Over 10,000 U.S. troops are in Nam. In Milwaukee, another milestone in the evolution of the Milwaukee Marvel .... the new Shovelhead engine took its place in the Harley lineage. New cylinders, new aluminum cylinder heads, Sportster-style rocker boxes. New, New. A top-of-the-line FLH now hits $1,610.

1967: Elvis marries Priscilla in Vegas while the Beatles debut Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. In Milwaukee, the Sportster got its own electric start, and America's leg muscles started to shrink.

1968: Flower power is growing, lots of it planted in San Francisco's Haight-Ashbury, while we learn a new war term: Tet Offensive. In Milwaukee, the FL Electra Glide benefited from a redesigned wet clutch, and the XL rode better thanks to longer travel front forks.

1969: Apollo Soars, Easy Rider Cruises - Apollo 11 astronauts set foot on the Moon. In Milwaukee there were no major changes except for stacked mufflers on the Sporster.

The Movie: Easy Rider Becomes the Ultimate Bro's Film

What were you driving or riding on or in when in 1969 Easy Rider blasted across movie screens from coast to coast, spanning states and states of mind like the odyssey captured by the film? Peter Fonda, Dennis Hopper, Jack Nicholson. Icons, legends, heroes, outlaws, pilgrims, black sheep, outcasts, sacrificial lambs ... there are as many interpretations as there were spokes on Captain America and Billy's bike.

How many times have you seen it? Do you have it on video? Do you have the DVD? Are you watching it on high-definition cable? A timeless classic, Easy Rider set the stage for both an inner and an outer revolution that spun the rpms of the custom bike movement past red-line, maybe even kick-started a whole new age of motorcycling (certainly the name for the most famous biker magazine of all, Easyriders, born two years later, in 1971). The film put the life in lifestyle. More than that, it cut to the bone and cleaved the heart, evoking many of the emotions felt, endured, by Americans, no matter if they rode or not, in a decade that shattered values, morals, innocence, and bodies like no other.

Biker Pilgrimages: Sturgis et al.

Bikers have been gathering in twos and threes around a campfire or a bottle of Jack Daniel's for decades. Eventually these gatherings became "organized," drawing hundreds, then thousands or riders. Some of these annual events have become sacred goals of pilgrimage over the years and in more ways than one the rallying points for the Biker Generation.

Whether you ride a chopper or a dresser, there are some rides you just must take. These include the annual Sturgis Rally, Daytona Beach, Laconia, the Love Ride, Myrtle Beach, Arizona Bike Week, the Ride to the Wall, and a host of others on national, regional, and local levels. Something of the spark that lights all Bro's fires exists in even the smallest gathering, be it the town's Toy Run during the Christmas holidays or a poker run set up by a local dealership. Camaraderie, socializing, bragging rights, mechanical skill, generosity, patriotism - they're part of the picture.

Sturgis: The Black Hills Gleam with Chrome

In August a gleamin chromed city spouts in the Black Hills of South Dakota. It surpasses ever Woodstock, since that was a single event and the Black Hills Motor Classic is an annual thing. Most everybody will agree that Sturgis is the Bro event of the year .... any year.

Ironically, Sturgis started as an Indian motorcycle inspiration created by Clarence J.C. "Pappy" Hoel and his Jack Pine Gypsies buddies in 1938, one year after the first Daytona Beach bike race, which coincidentally was won by an Indian. Back then the scene was pretty clean-cut in AMA Nicest people tradition, with official Harley-Davidson presence located in Rapid City and the One-Percenters contingent setting up in historic Deadwood, about ten miles down the road. The first Sturgis also had racing and stunt riding over a ten-day period. In the last few years, the twenty four hour partying was fed by about 123 planned events and plenty of beer, not to mention literally miles of motorcycles from all over the planet: dressers, choppers, radical customs, drag racers, vintage bikes .... you'll find it all at Sturgis.

In 2003 Sturgis will be part of the one hundreth anniversary of the Motor Company and should set new attendance records, the past figures reached to as many as 600,000 people. Yeah, try renting a motel room if you started in 1990.

If You're Thinking of Going to Sturgis for the Hundreth Anniversary ...

Here are the stats for attendance at Sturgis from 1991 through 2001. Square foot for square foot, more Harleys than anywhere at any time on the planet.

1991 - 100,000

1992 - 120,000

1993 - 150,000

1994 - 200,000

1995 - 215,000

1996 - 175,000

1997 - 220,000

1998 - 225,000

1999 - 250,000

2000 - 600,000 --- whoa!

2001 - 250,000

(Well, since this writing only goes this far; most of you probably know the rest.

Daytona: 2001 Saw the Sixtieth Anniversary

Daytona Beach, Florida, celebrated its sixtieth Bike Week in 2001. Call it Sturgis with sun and surf, call both of them the cathode and anode that continually recharge the Bro's battery. But whatever you call it, you got to do that by experiencing it yourself. You can actually experience Bike Week in two flavors. There's the renowned Bike Week extravaganza in March, but in the last several years there's also been Biketoberfest taking place in October at the same location. Its crowd is a bit smaller than Bike Week's but growing every year. A lot of people like it just because it's not as crowded as Bike Week, when your own belly button is hard-pressed to make it through the door or any of the watering holes and shops lining Main Street.

In a nutshell, Daytona is an event in praise of itself. There's plenty of testosterone, posturing, displays of power, and sex - lots of sexiness everywhere - and the overlying and underlying rumble and thunder of V-Twin engines. It's a tribal, hedonistic, charged with chemistry, a gathering of humans to celebrate not only their machines but the essence of life itself: raw, loud, intense, exciting. In one voice, several hundred thousand people literally shout, "Hear me roar."

Situated on the eastern coastline of the Sunshine State, Daytona Beach was early on a host to car races, thanks to its hard-packed white beaches that stretch twelve miles. It was bike racing from 1937 to 1960 that drew the crowds, but as the Japanese bikes began dominating the inland racetrack, the beach-side turned into a Harley gathering point, a Mecca for Milwaukee enthusiasts from around the world. A benchmark year in the evolution of Daytona was 1973, the advent of the famous Rats Hole motorcycle show, at which builders began showing off their latest custom creations. The cops expected about 5,000 spectators; 15,000 crowded the show. In 1976 the Motor Company, realizing Daytona was the place to be, set up an exhibition in a local hotel with Harley drag racing nearby drawing more crowds. Vendors were flocking to what you might call Milwaukee's Florida home. You could now choose from about 3 million different kinds of T-shirts.

A black shadow eclipsed the scene in the late 1970s as the result of motorcycle club violence coupled with police anti-biker tactics and the feeling that local businesses were overcharging for almost everything. Daytona was about to become history, it seemed. But a new police chief worked things out, and Bike Week was reinstated, although some thought it was now too structured and still way commercialized. Be that as it may, Bike Week took off again as the Party Place to Be, and upwards of 500,000 have been known to make their way to the annual event.

The Love Ride: Ribs, Rubbies, and Rolling Thunder

What's it like to attend a Love Ride? Here's one eyewitness account.

Well, he survived the seventeenth Love Ride. If you haven't been to this L.A. area biker event, mark it on your must-do calendar. It's a good excuse to visit SoCal, and you won't be scratching your head for things to do - Disneyland, Universal Studios, Venice Beach, the Hollywood Bowl, Bartel's Harley-Davidson dealership, Fatburgers for grub - all the reasons for living, all right in your grasp. According to Guinness, the Love Ride is the largest fund-raising single-day event in the world. It's also got great gobs of sunshine, several square miles of polished billet aluminum, and enough leather to upholster the moons of Jupiter. RUBs (rich urban bikers) rubbed shoulders with patch-wearing club members and family strollers. The Love Ride's a truly universal event that, although predominantly Harley-Davidson, does not exclude other brands.

The Love Ride traces its roots back to 1981 and something called the Biker's Carnival, a fund-raiser put together by Oliver Shokouh, owner of the then new Harley-Davidson of Glendale dealership. Oliver held the first event behind his shop in conjunction with the Harley-Davidson Motor Company, who had become the official corporate sponsor for the Muscular Dystrophy Association. The event raised $1,500 for MDA. Jump to 1984 and the Love Ride was born, with Peter Fonda and Willie G. showing up. Since then the gathering of eagles has raised over $12 million, this year's proceeds going to MDA and the L.A. Times' Reading by 9 literacy initiative.

The Sunday morning kickoff featured Jay Leno as the grand marshal and Peter Fonda as the honorary grand marshal (this town ain't big enough for two marshals), while John Kay and Steppenwolf got up god-awful early Sunday morning to play "Born To Be Wild" at Harley-Davidson of Glendale for the thousands who turned up to take part in the 50-mile "motorcycle caravan" that chugged along the L.A. freeways to Castaic Lake Recreation Center in Santa Clarita.

And yes, there were a lot of "graybeards" in attendance (median age 43.6 years) who could definitely with the classic tunes, like "Who'll Stop The Rain," played on-stage at Castaic by Credence. It must have worked because the day, though starting off coolish, warmed up bright and sunny for stellar weather. Later in the day, Blood, Sweat, & Tears played their golden hits, like "Spinning Wheel" and "God Bless the Child."

You could walk, ride, or even drive away with some big-buck giveaway items. For a two-hundred dollar donation you also got a ticket for a drawing that could land you a new Harley-Davidson Deuce or a 2001 Ford - Harley-Davidson special edition truck, or a Love Ride 17 commemorative guitar by Fender.

Helmets and hats off to Oliver Shokouh for continuing a history-making tradition and to all the thousands of riders who braved cool temperatures and a traffic jam that must have earned a Guinness Book of Records rating.

Loving Laconia: The Other Bike Week

While even people who wouldn't know a Panhead from a pancake know about Sturgis and Daytona Bike Week, fewer can give you a thumbs-up about Laconia. It used to shine up there with the other bike gatherings, and it shares some of the same history. Started in 1923, Laconia Bike week, staged in the city of the same name in New Hampshire, usually takes place in June. AMA-sponsored racing was introduced in the 1930s, and in 1990 the New Hampshire International Speedway Stadium was constructed in nearby Loudon to handle modern racers. Here starts some of the confusion about Laconia, because it's also called Loudon, which tends to dilute things. Then there's the famous hill-climb action at Mount Belknap, which gets lumped under Laconia, too.

But if you're looking at the map, you'll find an area in the small town of Laconia called Weirs Beach. It's like a smaller version of Daytona Beach and attracts the densest concentration of bikers. There were some beaches of decorum, a.k.a. rioting, there back in the 1960s, and the police backlash, particularly in the 1990s, seriously diminished the event. But, once again, cooler heads prevailed, and the event has taken on a new life in the last couple of years, with something like 200,000 attending the summer fest.

Laughlin River Run

For another perspective on bike events, we turn the microphone over to Clean Dean, a.k.a. Dean Shawler, longtime editor of Biker magazine, for his own take on this very popular Nevada event as held in 2001. As they say, it's printed in its entirety and uncensored.

The Laughlin River Run has grown to be the largest motorcycle event on the West Coast as claimed by the promoters, Dal-Con Promotions. I don't know about you, but bein' 350 miles inland from any Pacific beach, and ridin' through 300 miles of desert to get there, just doesn't seem like West Coast to me. 'Course what else couldja call it: the largest Middle of the Fuckin' Desert event? Largest somewhere between the West Coast and the Midwest event? Biggest west side of the Colorado River event?

Nevertheless, the official Laughlin count was around 70,000, with about that many motorcycles. The police department's news release reported that the crowds were extremely well behaved, and any problems in the crowd were dealt with quickly.

It seems there's a new sheriff in town (Lieutenant Tom Smitley, who told his men that he wanted this be a better event, and that the people be treated nice, like customers. And I guess they did just that because there were warning tickets given in place of the moneymakers in many cases, and if riders had their helmets on their bikes and not on their heads, they were politely asked to put them on.

There were three major traffic accidents involving motorcycles this year. A man got killed on Needles Highway northbound near mile-marker six, when he lost control and slid across into the path of a group of bikes heading south. On Highway 95, between Railroad Pass and Searchlights, a couple was immediately snuffed when an SUV with a flat tire took 'em out. Another incident on Casino Drive sent a couple people to the hospital when some dip-shit lost control of his scooter and ended up in the crowd.

Ten motorcyclers were reported stolen from various locations in Laughlin. A task force was on hand to check vehicle identification numbers, and they towed eight bikes that had altered VINs. They claimed some of these bikes had stolen parts, identified throuch NCIC, that'd been stolen in previous years from different locations around the U.S. The bikes confiscated will get further investigation from the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department's Auto Theft Detail.

Here's some more statistics ya might find interesting; felony arrests, 7; accidents, 4; gross misdemeanors, 6; misdemeanors, 35, juvenile curfew cites, 12; misdemeanor cites, 2; juvenile criminal arrests, 7; DUI arrests, 8; controlled substance arrests, 5; traffic citations 297; domestic violence arrests, 4; traffic arrests, 11; lewd conduct arrests, 6; disorderly conduct arrests, 8; weapons violations, 5; and warrant arrests, 12. Not too bad when you consider the thousands and thousands of scooter folk that clogged the event.

There were some new things happenin' this year that there were reportedly very successful. One was the First Annual Ride & Slide at the Needles Aquatic Center. The admission was $5 and girls got in 2-for-1. It was the right weather for it! The Bikers Bench Press Championship at the River Palms went over well. I missed the Hawaiian Tropic Contest at the Colorado Belle, but I did make it to the First Annual Ladies at Laughlin River Run Conference and Luncheon.

The Ladies at Laughlin luncheon at Harrah's was pretty cool, actually. It's interesting hearing women talk about riding with the same passion for it as men, but they have their own set of obstacles to overcome. Christine Ravazzolo, a pretty little lady of barely 5 feet and not much over 100 pounds, explained and demonstrated how to pick up a motorcycle after droppin' it. When she asked the crowd, "What's the first thing you do when you drop your bike?" a meek little voice broke the silence with "Cry?" Randy Twells was the organizer of the luncheon, with prominent ladies in motorcycling celebrates sharing the podium. There was $16,500 raised for the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation. Some of the sponsors present were the Motor Maids, and Worn Wheels, and Friction Zone magazines. A Ride for the Cure was held after the luncheon.

The Styx concert at the Flamingo was great. The Jimmie Van Zant Band opened for Foghat at River Palms. The Riverside Resort had the Marshall Tucker Band bastin' the biker tunes, and comedian Howie Mandel had 'em in stitches at Harrah's. After-market vendors were there in full force. Artist Eric Herrmann was laboring over his new work-in-progress painting called Gettin' Lucky, showin' a fella with the chick and the money hookin' it outa town. At MB & Strings' booth I met Bill Morgan with RideTek; his new product is a black vinyl top that straps to hard saddlebag lids that give ya more room for strappin' on stuff. Joe Teresi's Dyno Drag truck was gettin' a lot of attention in front of the Edgewater as crowds watched wild racing action. Motorcycle demo rides were held all over town, and a bike show was held by Dal Com, across from the Golden Nugget, on Saturday with a good turnout of every style of bike imaginable.

The Avi Casino, between Laughlin and Needles, had the Fryed Brothers performin' there again. If you've never hear them, you should. The Run Whatcha Brung drag races as went well, and $12,500 was collected for children's charities.

In a nutshell, the Laughlin River Run isn't for everyone because it gets costly, it's usually hotter than shit, and there's no tits. Still, the events are happenin', the casinos are full, and it's hard to find any place to park. I guess that makes this run right for the 70,000 people that keep comin' back. You're just gonna hafta witness it yourself.

------ Clean Dean Easyriders, August 2001

Red River Run

Yep, another river. In 2002 the run celebrated its own twentieth anniversary. Centering on Red River, New Mexico, over the Memorial Day weekend, the event, besides being a ride through some super-scenic country, is also a matter of respect. Respect for the men and women who made it possible to ride our bikes to Red River, or any other river for that matter. There are also a lot of fun activities at Brandenburg Park, including various cash prize competitions like the Strong Man, Strong Lady, Longest Ponytail, slow ride $100 prize, Fartherst Distance Traveled prize, 50/50 Poker Run, Balloon Toss, and contest for the Most Tattoos.

Let's Get Unorganized: Riding for the Sake of Riding

Today, everything, even rallies and runs, is computerized down to the last Porta Potti. But there are some Bros who still toss a toothbrush into a saddlebag and head out for points unknown. It's something like back in the '60s when Bros were jumping on their choppers and riding a thousand miles because they hankered after a particular bowl of chile or the taste of local beer. Here's a road story written by a rider who spends more or less most of his life on the road ... and what a long, strange road it's been. Some call him a vagabond, some call him a Pilgrim. While his legal name is Scotty Kerekes, he just calls himself Scooter Tramp Scotty. This piece appeared in the August 2001 issue of ER. It sums up what the Bro thing is all about.

Breakdown in Yuma

The late December weather was dry and the air was warm (eat your hearts our you Northern boys) as we blew across the lonely desert highway on my old FLT. I had dragged the beautiful and talented Miss Adrienne from the sanctity of her home in the mountains of Southern California only days earlier.

Palm Springs was behind us now, but the memory of the friends we'd made there was still fresh in my mind. And the romance blooming between Adrienne and I had been amplified to explosive proportions as we lounged in the luxury of the huge, 102-degree, hot-springs-fed hot tubs at the local Indian casino. Our steamy dip had mellowed our minds and melted our bodies together.

Even though the FLT's motor is rubber mounted, I could still feel its power course through my body as we approached the Arizona state line. We wanted to spend another week traveling together before Adrienne had to return to the grind. Where we were headed and our destination was unknown. We were just traveling, one migh say, because life is too short not to. After a day riding in the sun and into the night, it was just after 11:00 P.M. that we found ourselves cruising the small streets of Yuma. A local dude had told us of a bar with a live band that he promised would be our salvation. As midnight approached, with its promise of New Year's cheer, I laid into the throttle. Dropping the heavy motorcycle into gear, I pulled away from a stop light only to have my heart sink as the FLT's motor broke into a deafening racket. Pulling quickly into the curb, I dismounted to stick my ear against the idling engine. Yep, Betsy had a serious motor knock. Shut the bitch off! (Ever notice how a bike's stature quickly deteriorates from sweetie, baby, love of my life, to bitch just as soon as the motor breaks?)

A beautiful display of New Year's fireworks lit the sky as we pushed the "2-ton" beast through dimly lit side streets. A half-mile later, as both of us gasped for air, we arrived in front of a closed coffee shop. After pushing the dead machine behind the building, I laid my foam pad and sleeping bags onto the well-hidden cement walkway.

Friends have asked the question of me a hundred times over the years: Have you ever broken down out there? Do you worry about it? And what do you do when it happens? The answer has always been the same: "Have a little faith, man."

If a man travels alone, often, and on limited funds, time and experience will eventually lead him to live by little else. Breakdowns on the road can many times lead to meeting some of the coolest people and having the most interesting times, if only you let them. Besides, shit always seems to work itself out better if I leave it alone than if I'd planned it. If there is in reality any truth to this philosophy, a man can spend his days almost as free as the birds themselves if he so chooses. With that in mind, I crawled into bed to squeeze on Adrienne for a while before we finally zonked out.

The sun approached the moon hour the following day as, wrench in hand, I sat in the small parking lot and tried to make heads or tails of our dilemma. The java joint's doors were now open, and one of its curiosity seekers, being a biker himself, wandered out to inquire about the broken Harley-Davidson. People got involved and brotherhood and a few bucks turned a nightmare project into successfully causing the bitch to lose the battle and was once again the roadworthy machine I knew and loved.

Now, as we head into the 1970s, it's a time for breaking the mold in more ways than one .... Harley's domination of the U.S. marketplace is seemingly lost to the Japanese. What gives, Bro? But we might learn something from the Beatles. In 1970 they were thinking of splitting up to go their separate ways. All things must change. That goes for Harley-Davidsons, too. And, like they say, that which doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.