Harley & Me

Harley-Davidson Motorcycles and I go back. We go way, way, way back. Take this as your first and final warning that this story will be long.

If you choose to continue, you could be here awhile.

That being said, my acquaintance with the Harley-Davidson Motorcycle Company and the machines, people and lifestyle that are interwoven with the brand, began with both the bike, and the man in the picture you see above.

That man is my Uncle Tony. To the best of my knowledge the bike is a '47 Knucklehead and he had it his entire riding life. Never traded it for something new, never got a different, newer bike.

I probably met Tony when I was two-ish, but I'm not sure when my first conscious memory of him was. What I do know is my memory of Tony was this cool guy, so different from every one else in my life. And this motorcycle.

At whatever young age I was at when I became aware of Tony, I just have this sense that I felt he was a perfect representation of freedom and what life is all about.

Funny. That's what the "Harley-Davidson Lifestyle" has come to represent.

Whenever I'd see Tony, unless it was Christmas, he'd have that bike.

Mostly I'd see him when we'd go to Mauston to Grandma & Grandpa's house. This fact also comes into play: I grew up in Appleton and whatever place in the world the Army had my Dad stationed at. My Dad and his brothers and sisters grew up in Mauston. So we'd go to visit from time to time. I never lived anywhere near Mauston as a child.

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Fast forward to 1973. I'm 7 years old, just joined the Cub Scouts ( a little before the required age of 7 because my Dad was the troop leader and pulled a string or two). By this point I was already motorcycle crazy.

My Dad was stationed at Ft. Hood and we were living in a trailer park in Killeen, Texas.

Back then Dad was a Hardcore Mechanic.

He would work on anything, fix anything, restore anything. He and a friend built a car real close to the Meunsters car and he restored a couple old Ford pick ups.

One was a '56 that we moved back to Wisconsin with. I remember riding with my Dad and having to keep waking him up while he was falling asleep driving. Gotta tell you, don't recommend it as a general rule, but Dad was a great sleeping driver! I have also never forgotten the Dixie Truck Stop in Illinois since then either since we got to eat and rest there.

At some point Dad decided he wanted a motorcycle. So he got a really good deal on a Honda CB305. It just had the minor problem of it didn't run and the tires were flat and basically shot.

So he of course was going to fix it and get it running again.

In the mean time he got another good deal on one that did run.

I of course got the ride on the gas tank around the yard and loved it. I actually remember it.

I was in love and I wanted one.

So my Dad gave me the other one that didn't run. What the heck? It was only like $25 bucks and we had plenty of time to get it going before I'd be able to actually ride it! Cool!

So I got my first bike at about 7 years old.

I didn't know anything about brands and styles of motorcycles, just bikes in general so I was happy as could be!

Of course I was seven and the fun of a motorcycle that didn't run and you couldn't ride wore off relatively quick. For that reason I don't know what became of my first bike. I'm sure my Dad either junked it or sold it, but by the time that happened I must have no longer had any interest in it.

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So I went back to the bike pictured here which was an awesome 5 Speed with a car type gear shifter. That was a gift from my grandfather and led to me learning how to build that type of bike from garbage picking booty.

But I digress.

A few more years roll by and soon it's the 80's. By this time I knew that Tony's bike was a Harley and so I was on a "someday I'll have a Harley kick". I'd check them out all the time.

Downtown Appleton back in the day had a couple great Biker Bars that were serious biker bars. Old Son Saloon and I think the other was River City Pub. They were close to each other. So close they were owned by the same guy. Of course I couldn't go in, nor did I have any desire to. My interest lied outside in the gleaming chrome and raked frame iron horses that were backed along the curb for the entire block.

I'd walk down to the east end of College Avenue and weave through the bikes looking at them. Walking very carefully so as not to touch, or heaven forbid, knock one over! I was particularly fond of the Sportster based choppers.

Most of the time I'd be skipping school of course. The bikers were always friendly, though occasionally you'd get a gruff old guy giving you crap about playing hooky.

This was during the 7th/8th grade era and I skipped a lot of school. 8th grade was the worst. I actually got held back because my time out of school from skipping and being suspended for skipping was more total time than I spent in the classroom that year. Even though I had straight A's for testing, I flunked.

Of course I didn't spend all of that time in front of the Old Son. I'd be there, I'd be at Henri's Music or Heid Music, Tony's Drum Shop, fishing or... Harley-Davidson of Appleton, 2144 W. Wisconsin Avenue.

The HD store was way out of the way of my usual school skipping destinations, but it was worth the trip.

I can still remember that store and how it was laid out. There also weren't a lot of bikes. I believe that was about the time new Harley's were becoming hard to get.

It was awesome to look at what was there though. The bright paint, the shiny chrome. Metallic perfection unblemished by miles of road debris and years of weathering. And the whole place smelled like leather.

If you ever watched the show "Roseanne" when Dan had his motorcycle shop, it reminded me a lot of HD of Appleton. Small, homey, obviously a hometown place.

The owner however did seem to take exception to truancy and 14 year old boys climbing around on expensive machinery.

His name was Terry and he ran me out of the store on more than one occasion during school hours. After school and weekends no problem, but during school I'd get the boot.

Right about this time my Dad and a friend named Ron started a little motorcycle shop where they'd get old motorcycles and fix them up and sell them.

At one time our garage was full of old Honda's, Kawasaki's Yamaha's, Suzuki's and whatever else they could get their hands on. Once they made a Yamahonda with left over parts.

As it turned out being a pretty rebellious, thought he was a hot shot 14 year old, I decided it was time to ride. I mean obviously I could probably do it, wear a helmet so no one could tell my age and go. All the keys were right there and during the summer it was all unsupervised time.

The first bike I took out was a little old CB125. Really looked old but was immaculately restored, fresh, bright red paint.

I'd take it out and kind of run up and down the street in first gear because I wasn't confident about clutching and shifting gears since my Dad told me a clutch mis-step could make you do a wheelie.

I loved wheelies on my regular bike but didn't want to try it on a motorcycle, so I stayed in first gear.

Then I decided to go bigger and they had a CB305 just like the one my Dad "gave" me when I was 7. So I took that.

Actually made it to second gear on that one.

Took it out to show off to a friend one day and got stuck at a busy intersection by his house. When I finally got an opening I had a clutch mis-step and went up on one wheel, across the road, up over the front corner of a parked VW Beetle and into a bush.

Wearing shorts I got a nice burn on my leg, but that was about it other than the incredible shock and of course the great fear once I calmed down enough to realize this one probably wasn't slipping past my parents.

A couple guys helped me & the bike up and out of the bush. A quick survey of the damage revealed that only the gear shifter was bent a little. Perhaps Dad wouldn't notice?

I'm freaking out and wanted to get home so I get back on the bike and one of the guys who helped me stopped me and said I had to push it because I was obviously not old enough to ride.

Pushing a CB305 for a couple miles at 14 just wasn't going to happen. After a block I decided I was out of view, jumped on and took off for home.

As luck would have it, one of our neighbors had already called the cops about me being out riding and we got a visit from the police which ended my riding fun.

For the moment.

It was 1984 before I rode again and now I was 18. But when I did I had the shifting thing down pat.

I still had been nowhere near riding a Harley, I couldn't afford any type of bike at the time, but I'd go around to people who had bikes for sale in the yard and I'd take them out for "test rides". Got the cops called on me again because I really liked this 750 Kawasaki and apparently my "test ride" lasted a little too long.

I still loved looking at the Harley's though and Appleton had a fair amount of Motorcycle Club activity at the time so the bikes and the bikers were all over. I remember one Sportster Chopper I used to see all the time in the Maritime Bar parking lot. It was light blue and slick as could be. It looked mean in a pretty way.

Actually getting a bike at his time, much less a Harley was out of the question, but there was no harm in looking.

Till I lost all respect for Harley's and the bikers who rode them.

I was 18 when my friend Todd and I got an apartment together.

To be specific, he got an apartment and then he wanted a roommate, so I moved in a couple weeks later.

We pretty much had a non-stop party for a while.

Right up until these two patch holding bikers from a club which will remain undisclosed put a damper on the fun.

And my "friend Todd" screwed me big time.

Apparently these two dudes lived in the apartment before he got it. They apparently had left a bunch of Harley parts behind for one of the guys bikes. Todd apparently had thought it was his lucky day when he moved in and found the parts and sold them. Todd apparently was approached by these two guys and further apparently explained to them that it was I who had ripped them off and sold their parts. They apparently decided an ass whoopin' was the only way to rectify the situation.

Normally unless I really dislike someone, I won't use their full name when I write my little stories, but in this case I only know one of their real names and I don't think they'd ever read this, and if they did, hell, I wouldn't mind a meeting to discuss the old days.

One was a guy named Dave Johnson and the other one was only known as "Poodle". He was called "Poodle" because he had long, blondish, super curly hair. Curly like a poodle. And a pretty weird curly beard and mustache too.

Dave Johnson and Poodle were up on the food chain in their club. Poodle was a silent, scary Enforcer. Dave Johnson was just an arrogant egotistical ass.

They had some younger whack-job with them who's name I didn't know but that dude was nuts, just shaking and jumping up and down and could lay out about 30 threats per second.

When initially confronted, I had no idea what they were talking about. It didn't take long to figure out they didn't believe me. Right about the time Whack Job punched me the first time, I knew this wasn't going to go nice.

I turned and flew down the steps from the apartment and ran down, out and into the alley. They gave chase.

I'm running around and one came out the back door and grabbed me.

They held me down and an ass whuppin' did ensue. I was completely restrained and unable to fight back in any way. Punched and kicked repeatedly with big old biker harness boots.

At some point I managed to get up and Whack Job decided it would be a good idea to take me back up to the apartment and out on to the roof. Basically because he was pretty sure it was going to be awesome to throw me off the roof.

They start dragging me up the stairs and I'm still about unconscious.

Whack Job starts talking in detail about what he thinks I'm going to experience, think and feel as I'm flying off the building.

Somewhere I found a burst, kicked whoever was behind me in the crotch and took off back down the stairs and out again. Again they pursued.

When they caught me this time they dragged me down the alley by my hair to a dark corner by a dumpster and repeated the same earlier ass whuppin'. I became really light headed and had no clue what to do.

So I decided to spaz out, drool, and in the end, play dead.

Laying on a pile of cardboard.

Apparently my performance was good enough for someone to say "Oh sh*t" and it stopped. And they ran.

When I could no longer hear boots clopping on the concrete I got up and ran the other direction. Spun out of the alley as soon as possible and across College Ave to Jeckyl & Hyde's Bar which is still there today.

Upon entering, people start screaming bloody murder.

A guy who was both a friend and a bully in Jr. High, Billy came up to me and was just freaking out.

So I walked into the bathroom and Holy Mother of God was I a mess.

My face was a mess. Both eyes black. Lips swollen, nose swollen, blood everywhere. Huge lump on the side of my head. Did I mention blood? Everywhere? Yeah, from the front I was blood from head to toe.

At that time I was already a pretty violent person myself. I just knew when I was out numbered.

But, seeing what they had done made something boil. I have issues with nose punches and my own blood and I lost it.

I started screaming, punching anything in front of me and moving with determination.

I wasn't looking for Dave & Poodle & Whack Job.

I was looking for Todd.

I went back to the apartment and stormed in, cutting through a crowd of people partying until I found Todd pumping the quarter barrel on ice in the bathtub.

He looked at me and started apologizing and crying and saying he didn't know what to do when they came.

I won't describe the ass whuppin' he received because, well, I'm not exactly proud of the fact that I, at that time was a person capable of what followed.

At that point I hated Harleys and bikers that rode them in general

For the next several years I always still talked about getting a bike but I had no use for Harleys or anyone who would have them, so I bad mouthed them like everybody else who had a reason, real or imagined.

Fast forward again a couple years and I'm being taught to play bass guitar by some Harley biker types. They become friends who save me loads of trouble given the circumstances.

I still bad mouthed when it came up, but the old dream starts to rekindle. Even though it was 100% unattainable at the time.

Fast forward another, oh 14 years.

By the time the Harley-Davidson 95th Anniversary arrived in 1998, I was back out in the real world and working a job in the Dells where a lot of bikes came through on the way to Milwaukee. It drove me nuts.

I loved seeing these bikes, meeting the people. I had no desire to dream of having one because it was still way too far out of reach. I'd still never even been on a Harley.

But, watching all of those bikes and meeting all of those people stirred something.

Later in 1998 I took a trip with my then wife Dana to Minnesota to visit her family. Her brother Jim and his wife Carol both had Harley's. At some point they decide it's a good time to go riding and I got my first ride on a Harley.

I rode b*tch on a pink Softail Chopper behind Carol.

And loved it. Even as a passenger I felt the awesomeness and the power underneath. The wind was where I wanted to be.

Dana's brother Jim directed me to a website (it was HARD to find websites in '98 for me!). www.barnettharley.com/. He said they could get people with no credit (which is exactly what I had then, no credit) on bikes.

I checked it out and found lots of bikes to fall in love with, but none I thought I could afford.

For a while www.barnettharley.com was my favorite website! Man did I look, price & dream! They even has a basket case section of bikes. There was still no way financially. As time went on I went from "no-credit" to "bad credit".

At the time I was playing with Lost Dog (that story can be found here: http://www.scotteb66.com/13/post/1998/04/the-sometimes-johnnylost-dog-experience.html) and we played a lot of bike stuff, so I was around Harleys and the people who ride them even more.

I ended up finding a bike that while not a Harley, was pretty cool and almost affordable at $1000! It was an old blue Norton Chopper and I took it for a test ride and it sucked but I thought I wanted it after a test ride. It reminded me of that old blue Sportster chopper at Maritme. I could fix it up!

I tried to come up with the cash but got beat out by somebody. 

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Very similar to what I was looking at.

What I thought it would look like when I was done! :)

That dream on the back burner, I pursued another one: Playing with Michael Murphy & The MOB. We played a lot of bike stuff, but one show put me in the riders seat of a Harley-Davidson Softail Custom.

We played an event in Amherst Junction called the "Nude Bikers Of America Pig Roast". Yes, they were nude. I sh*t you not.

The band was not required to play in the buff, although I think the drummer we had that night would've.

I got talking with this Ho-Chunk/Mexican woman named Lupe who had a light metallic blue FXSTC and I told her about my Harley idea's and never having one or riding one. She insisted I ride hers, naked or not.

I refused. She persisted.

Finally I took it for a spin and it blew my mind.

Of all the bikes I had been on previously, this thing was incredible. It felt different, it rode different, everything. I wanted it.

Went back to http://www.barnettharley.com and started dreaming again.

I determined I would have a Harley by the Harley 100th Anniversary. So I set about making that happen. That story can be read here: 100th By The 100th. As of this writing that story is not yet complete, but someday!

Bottom line is, I was given an opportunity to make a lot of money fast and I did it to get a 100th by the 100th. I sold Rainbow Vacuum Cleaners. A lot of them. I even became a distributor, won a trip to San Diego and a big screen TV and got my own Rainbow Store.

The trip to San Diego put me face to face with a ton of Sportster Choppers.

I worked very closely with Barnett and ended up getting approved at 22.99 percent and $2000 over MSRP for an '03 Anniversary XL1200C. This is the catalog picture:

Of course I took the deal!

To be honest it's over 10 years later and with the huge amount of stuff I've added and refinancing loans, I'm still paying for it.

And I don't give a sh*t because I LOVE it!

And I will never part with it.

 I love this bike and I've done thousands of dollars worth of accessories making it my own. This is what I looks like now:

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So I made it to the 100th on my 100th Anniversary Harley.

Fast forward to May 2006 when I got a job at Bala's Harley-Davidson in Mauston, Wisconsin. Did I mention that seeing Uncle Tony while visiting the grandparents in Mauston was going to come back into play?

That story can be read here: Bala's HD

How I ended up working in Mauston is a long story itself, but the short version is that when Rainbow made me a Distributor and gave me a store, Tomah was where they wanted it located.

In Tomah I met Lisa, we moved to Kendall and Mauston is just 30 miles down the road.

So anyways, I just reached my 7 year Anniversary at the store this past Sunday.

In that time I have had so many incredible experiences and met some of the most interesting people. I have experienced so many "Harley Stories" that this site had to have a section just for those stories. And I'll never be able to write all of them.

My two best friends and almost all o my friends actually, I have met through my job.

Besides having randomly ended up in the town my Dad grew up in, another funny thing is that since I was promoted to Sales Manager in February of 2008, I have worked quite a few Dealer Trades with... Terry... from HD of Appleton! I again, sh*t you not.

He's still the owner, but he's got a bigger and nicer store now. He occasionally does the actual bike trades himself and when he comes in he just looks too damn young to have been kicking me out of his store all those years ago. Now his son just bought the dealership in Madison and I've been working with him too.

Many of these stories and the people in them I'll write about when they hit me and you'll find them in this section. One may even be about you!

Since I started in Sales 711 bikes have been sold, 325 of them by me. And a lot of them have interesting stories to go with them.

I've won sales contests, demo ride contests, came within a few points of winning a Street Glide right from the factory. Actually as I'm writing this, I'm wearing the T-Shirt I got for losing that one.

At one time, for a brief moment back in mid-2009 I had sold more bikes to women than any other dealer in the country. The first one I actually sold and did the paper work on was a woman.

My most recent Harley Story of merit involves buying another Harley for my girlfriend and her adventures in learning to ride. That can be read here: Cinco De Biko.

I even got to meet legendary designer and member of the Davidson family side of Harley-Davidson, Willie G. Davidson, who graciously made me the owner of the only bass guitar he's ever signed. Mine.

The funny thing is, a lot of my best Harley Stories have nothing to do with the bikes themselves. Mostly the people who ride them. And the ones who wanted to and thought they couldn't.

I've learned the art of creative financing to help people get bikes. I've laughed & cried with people whose dreams came true in my office. I've counseled people on issues in their lives that had nothing to do with bikes, that just somehow came up. I have attended all types of bike events and met great people and had great experiences.

The rest of this story will be found in the other Harley Stories I decide to write.

Mostly I've learned that Dave Johnson, Poodle & Whack Job in no way are representative of Harley-Davidson Motorcycles and the people who ride them. They weren't even representative of patch holder's.

The most important thing in my relationship with Harley-Davidson is that, between chasing the dream, riding, working at the dealership, all of it, I've learned a lot about me and who I am.

I found the freedom I never knew existed.

Harley & Me.

We go way back.