I Came By It Honestly

In my an earlier post, I detailed my (powered) two-wheeled history.  As it was getting late, I neglected to mention that Dad had ridden motorcycles as well.  So in this short space, I shall attempt to rectify that.

Somewhere in the boxes of pictures spread out between Mom's house and Judy's house and maybe even some of my siblings, there exist some photos of Dad and his motorcycle.  My knowledge of his exploits is somewhat limited, and I can only relate what I remember being told many years ago.
Dad bought a military surplus motorcycle, I presume from an auction, that was still in a crate.  He had to assemble the machine, an olive drab 1949 Harley Davidson motorcycle.  He had to clean all the parts, which were packed/coated with "cosmoline".  There was even a machine gun mount for it among the parts.  I don't think he used it, though.  I don't know whether he painted it a different color, or left it "o.d." like it came.  But he rode it all over the country.  I remember  when I got my first bike, he talked about the noisy motorcycles (dirt bikes) that were popular at the time.  He said that he used to park his Harley between two buildings, and when he would get up early and go to work, he would start it and idle out to the road.  No one ever complained about the noise.  If he had been riding one of the two-stroke dirt bikes like I later had, he would have awakened everyone.  

I haven't seen any of the pictures for a long time, so I can't say whether he did any customization to the bike.  But my mother, after reading my previous post, related how much she enjoyed riding behind Dad on the motorcycle.  I don't know if they both "shoe-horned" onto the single seat, or if there was an additional seat behind the driver's saddle.  Either way, they did go for rides together.  This picture is of a 1949 Harley Hydraglide (named for the hydraulic front forks, a "new" innovation at the time for Harley Davidson motorcycles). 

During the 60's, when we were stationed at Davis-Monthan AFB in Tucson, I remember that Dad "bike-sat" a scooter for someone in the squadron while he was away.  Dad rode it to work sometimes, and I remember him taking me somewhere on it once.  I climbed on the back of it, wrapped my arms tightly around Dad's waist, and we ran some sort of errand.  I had never been on "powered two wheels" before, and though a little nervous about the leaning in turns, had nothing but confidence in Dad's abilities.  After all, he flew airplanes, and they "leaned" in turns, too.  It was a short adventure, lasting less than an hour, with only a total of maybe twenty minutes on the scooter.  But it was thrilling.  Not only for the two-wheeling, but it was just Dad and me.  I have always treasured the time we spent together, just him and me.  They were far too few, and far too short, and sometimes a little unpleasant (like being called into the den and discussing grades or a minor family "misdemeanor"), but I would not trade a second of any of them.

After Mom and Dad divorced, he was stationed at the Pentagon.  He and Judy lived in Virginia on the outskirts of D.C.  I moved up there, after a fruitless summer of job-searching (I had been laid off from the defense contractor), and stayed with them.  At some point, he purchased another motorcycle, to save on gas.  I think he said it was roughly a 45-minute commute to D.C.  So when I got up there, I found a beautiful Honda 500 four cylinder sitting in the garage.  It had a fairing and windshield, and hard saddle bags (something I would have NEVER put on it).  This motorcycle, or actually the use of it, was allowed to me for access to the job I had secured at the toy store in Fairfax.  It was a heavy motorcycle, a little top-heavy, but very reliable and plenty fast.  I rode it until I could get back down to Florida and drive my car back up there.

 

 

  When Dad retired, he had a job set up and waiting for him in Phoenix.  As I was going to be unemployed (I had to quit at the toy store, I couldn't afford to live on my own at the time) I moved there with them.  Dad bought a motorcycle trailer, we installed a hitch on my car, and I pulled the bike down to Florida for the Christmas Holidays.  Dad and Judy towed one car behind the other a few days later.  As soon as I got to Mom's house, I promptly unloaded the bike and enjoyed the mild Florida winter weather.  After the holidays, I reloaded the bike on the trailer, met up with Dad and Judy, and we formed a small convoy to Phoenix.  I was out there about a month, and my former employer called. They were gearing up again, and they had tracked me down in Arizona.  I packed my car, and headed back to Florida.  But I did miss that Honda.