If you’ve read my bio on this site then you may already be aware I once worked for the Rat’s Hole in Daytona Beach. Back in the day the Rat’s Hole wasn’t just a chopper show, it was a t-shirt and souvenir shop. The original shop was on 5 South Ocean Ave., but later moved to 801 Main Street as the business grew. After that Big Daddy Rat expanded into a few more stores—one on the Boardwalk right at the ramp, called Big Daddy Rat’s Beach Shack, and then another on the corner of Main and A1A.

In 1979 I painted some shirts in the Beach Shack store while on a short visit and did so well I was asked to come back the following year for Bike Week and beyond. During Bike Week of 1980 I made more money than I could count painting shirts in the 801 store. Back then the Chopper Show was still held on the Boardwalk and it was free to the public. The local constabulary was still rather hostile to bikers in those days, so we kept a petition in the Rat’s Hole for bikers to sign. It was a touch more “wild west” back then than it is now, and I became friends with a number of Outlaws MC members, primarily from the Chicago chapter. Although they’re still there every year, the Outlaws were much more prevalent in those days and ran a number a temporary businesses during the event. A number of the regional MCs like the Pagans were always there as well.

After Bike Week I worked for the rest of the summer and eventually left Daytona on Labor Day weekend. I always thought I would go back sooner or later, but as the years passed it just fell off my radar. It was in 2010 when I began thinking about returning since that would have been the 30th anniversary of my first and only time there, but for the last decade my job tended to always have me out of town on some production every year when Bike Week came. Sure enough this year, was looking pretty much the same, so I was ready to just give up on going once again. My friend Chuck, better known on this blog as “Chaos,” has a condo on Ormond Beach and has never missed a Bike Week since the mid 1970s and for the last couple of years he’s invited me to come down, but work just kept getting in the way.

Just as I was ready to give up once again another friend, Joey (also known by his radio personality name, Keith Edwards on KISS 102.7 FM) called me up out of the blue and said he was going to ride down with with another friend for the last weekend, and asked if I was interested in riding down with them. As it happened my schedule was clear for those days and I said, “Hell yeah!”

So early Friday morning before daybreak I met up with Joey and Rolly at the Waffle House near Harley-Davidson of Atlanta. Something about Waffle Houses just seems right for starting off on a two wheeled journey to me for some reason. After a great breakfast the three of us hit the road. Oh, and it was cold as hell.

I’m pretty old school, so I shirk heated gear, but time will tell if old age eventually makes me cave in. By the time we made it to Macon, Georgia my finger tips were rather numb, but other than that I was okay. The forecast kept calling for it to clear up and get warmer, but it sure was taking its damn time. However once we got south of Macon things started turning real nice, and before long you found yourself in that great groove of just riding and being in the wind—that awesome drug every rider is addicted to.

Before long we were in Florida and headed to Jacksonville where we were to pay a short visit to Rolly’s dad and then grab some lunch. Rolly owns two bikes, a Harley Ultra Classic and a Gold Wing. On this trip he decided to take the Gold Wing, so I was quite entertained when his dad, an elderly Filipino man, came out of the house and gave him all sorts of shit for not being on a Harley. On a side note I have to admit Rolly’s Gold Wing is pretty dang nice though.

After lunch it was time to go find the hotel where Joey and Rolly were going to stay that night in Jacksonville. I was going to be staying at Chaos’s condo that night, but planned on coming back to stay with them the night before we headed back. Once that was done we were off to Destination Daytona as our first official Bike Week stop.

Destination Daytona is a world unto itself during Bike Week and there was far more to do there than we had time for that day since I planned on meeting up with Chaos for dinner. I’ll have to go back next year and spend more time there. After that we made our way to Ormond Beach where Chaos waited in the parking lot of Julian’s Restaurant. There was going to be a HOG dinner social there, but since not a whole lot of people showed we decided to head on down to Main Street.

This is where I began to enter into my time machine mode. Things have really changed from 31 years ago. Most of the mom and pop motels on the inland side of A1A where I once delivered issues of the Ratty Rag and FTW Biker News Magazine were all but gone. That didn’t make it any less exhilarating as I got closer to Main Street and the two wheeled traffic began to back up. We cruised along Main all the way from A1A to the Boot Hill Saloon where we began to spread out and find places to park our bikes. I lucked out and found a slot right in front of the cemetery entrance across from the saloon.

The Boot Hill Saloon is one of the few places that has changed very little since the old days—not counting the expanded lot to the side and the back which was just an empty grass lot last time I had laid eyes on it. I used to live right down the street from the saloon on North Peninsula Dr. and my roommates and I were once chased home by a pack of dobermans that came running out of the cemetery at about 3 in the morning. Needless to say the Boot Hill was a much rougher place back in the 70s, and although it’s still technically authentic as biker bars go, its fame has tamed it somewhat these days by comparison.

The four of us moved on down to the Full Moon and chilled for a bit before we split up for the night. At one of the bars, I can’t remember which one, there was an Ozzy impersonator who was incredible. Having just seen the real Ozzy at Sturgis seven month earlier I have to say, this guy might make a better Ozzy than the real one does! Chaos and I wandered up and down Main Street just a little more before deciding to head out to the Iron Horse which was a little closer to his condo. After grabbing some more food we decided to check out the Wall of Death. This is truly one of the last great original, and genuinely deadly, carney attractions left on earth. It’s easy to understand why Indian Larry was so enthralled with it. When we came out David Allen Coe was getting ready to perform, so we stuck around to watch for a good while until it started getting too damn cold again. Then we headed home for the night.

The next morning Chaos headed back to Atlanta, so it was time for me to meet back up with the other guys. I had a few hours to kill so I took my bike out on the beach for the obligatory photo op and then headed to Denny’s for some breakfast. After that I went over to Daytona Lagoon to check out the Rat’s Hole Custom Bike Show. Ted Smith has done a bang up job continuing the legacy of his dad. He and I had a chance to chat last year at the Buffalo Chip in Sturgis. He’s a good guy and has built out cooler bikes beyond the original series of “Cheese Haulers” than I think BDR himself would have ever dreamed of.

I finally made it over to the raceway where I was to hook back up with Joey and company. We hit the HOG pin stop, bought a bunch of t-shirts and then headed back over to the Iron Horse to check out Jasime Cain. I have to say, I haven’t seen a chick rock that hard since the early days of Joan Jett. If you see her playing at a venue near you check her out—unless you hate serious heavy metal—then might want to run for your life. The chick ends her show by doing a stage dive into the crowd from a speaker platform a good nine feet off the ground! After the show I bought a couple of cigars and we headed back to Main Street.

We got ourselves all parked again and after dinner decided to just take in the crazy sights of it all. Eventually we worked our way back down to where the old Rat’s Hole store was on 801 Main Street which is now a Hot Leathers store. While Joey was looking for some official shirts I decided to explore the area where I used to stand while painting shirts. I went and stood in the corner of the store against the front window. It was a bizarre sensation as I stood there in the exact spot looking out the window where I had stood exactly 31 years ago to the very day. So much of the ambience was the same. The sounds of motorcycles making their constant rumble with hordes of people moving past the window on the sidewalk. It was uncanny. I had come full circle at that moment and contemplated all that had happened in my life from the last time I stood in that space—so much had changed, and yet in some ways certain things remained. It was a good feeling.

Once we had enough it was time to head back to the hotel in Jacksonville. By now we had added a few more to our posse, so there were about six of us depending on who wandered off or not. After collecting up Rolly we hit the road to Jax. I was in the middle of the pack and the lead guys decided to waste no time getting back. Let’s just say 95 miles and hour at night on I-95. I stayed with the lead group and white knuckled it all the way back while Rolly and Grasshopper held back at a more chilled pace.

Once we hit the hot tub at the hotel I decided I was going to take it easy on the ride back the next day no matter what the other guys did. Fortunately, everybody else must have felt the same way, because we kept a nice pace all the way back to Atlanta. It was a blitz of a trip, but a fantastic time. Now that my work situation has changed perhaps next year I can spend the whole week there. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.

Well, the world has pretty much turned upside down since right after I got back from Daytona. I haven’t been able to write any new articles due to a major shift in my job status along with too many other interruptive events to count.

Anyway, I hope to get back on here soon. Even though it’s a bit past due, I’ll try to have a recap of the 70th Daytona Bike Week as well.

Today is Ash Wednesday, so the time feels right to contemplate what has been a very dark year up to now. Between the months of December 2009 and December 2010 I experienced the loss of eleven friends and family. I was able to attend seven of the eleven funerals, and one visitation. Compounded with a few other issues and the rotten economy it has been a rather dark fifteen months since December of 2009.

Before I go into my reflection I would like to list the names of each person and how I knew them:

John “Captain” Morgan: I had only known John for a little over a year, but got to know him well during that short time. We rode together in the Atlanta Chapter of the Harley Owners Group.

Pearlene Pounders: Pearlene was Pam’s aunt. Pam loved her very, very much, and it was quite hard for her to lose Pearlene. She was a beautiful person.

Beth Barrett: Beth was also a member of the Atlanta HOG chapter. A bright spot in everyone’s life who knew her. I wasn’t able to attend her funeral because I was out of town on business.

Jon Killen: Jon was my brother-in-law and Pam’s brother. An avid biker and photojournalist.

Guy Cater: I knew Guy for 16 years. A WWII veteran who spent over a year in a German Stalag. He was a fascinating and peaceful man. Fortunately I was able to attend and sing at his funeral.

Libby Carter: Libby was Guy’s wife and a good friend. She was already ill when Guy passed and it wasn’t long before she joined him in death.

Faye Morton: Faye was the mother of a good friend of mine, and I have known Faye for the better part of 15 years. I played the bagpipes at her funeral.

Ken Flickinger: Ken was another WWII vet. I spent many Sunday mornings with Ken over the last 10 years talking about everything from his days in the Pacific to current issues in the church. I also sang at his funeral.

Lou Richardson: I’ve been friends with Lou since 1994. We studied in Education for Ministry together. She was a registered nurse and a saint. She was a hard boiled, cantankerous southern woman with lots of opinions and never failed to entertain me. I was glad to be able to sing at her funeral as well.

Sandra Wilson: I’ve known Sandra since we were young teenagers. She spent the last 20 years of her life in a wheelchair and it never broke her amazing spirit.

B. J. Toney: I’ve known B. J. for the better part of 15 years. Her husband Larry and I would occasionally attend retreats at the Monastery of the Holy Spirit in Conyers together. I was unable to play the pipes at her funeral due to technical problems, but found a piper to play in my place.

Death. How do we cope with its reality? We all have different ways of adjusting its inevitability into our lives, but no matter how much we try nothing seems to satisfy. I don’t typically spend a lot of time thinking about the subject, but this past year has forced it into my consciousness. A few months back, while sharing the news of our loss with a mutual friend I was stricken by his words.

He spoke of death with an edge of anger.  He said he hated death and everything about it.  He had just lost his father the year before, so he had already been thinking a good bit on the subject.  He exclaimed how tired he gets of the words people use when they are trying to cope with death.  Statements like, “They’re up there with God now,” or “God has called home another angel.”  He claimed that he hated death and would give it no quarter.  He said he has accepted that death is something we simply will never understand this side of the Resurrection.  As for him, he will remain defiant of death.

Today is perhaps a good time, I think, where we should stop and contemplate death.  We contemplate not just on our own mortality, but what it is to lose someone close to us.  We stop and meditate on that dark void between death and resurrection.  It isn’t wrong to be sad.  In fact, sadness may be all we have to deal with it, because it IS sad.  At least it is for us, here on this side of the cross.  So we morn and we feel loss, and that is because it matters.  

We are lucky that we know Easter is coming, unlike those who presumed all was lost on that terrible Friday long ago.  But there are times in our life when we experience a loss that promises no Easter, and three days later we are still left only with a hole in our heart.  A loss of something that doesn’t come back to meet us on the road to Emmaus.  We approach the tombs of our losses everyday afterward only to find no stone rolled away.  But the difference between us and all who lived prior to the Crucifixion is the message of Easter. Easter tells us God gives death no quarter.  

So where does that leave us on here on Ash Wednesday.  It leaves us with the realization of death and loss, but God doesn’t ask us to be happy with death. So I say be angry at death.  Yield to it no romantic notions. Perhaps what we should consider taking on is an indignant hope.  A hope to one day find some kind of understanding on the other side of the Resurrection. Regardless of what you believe, it all remains a mystery, but as for me I will give death no quarter.

Henry C. Killen, Jr. is my father-in-law. When Pam and I first started dating I learned that he rode motorcycles back in his younger years and he still had a passion for talking about them whenever the subject came up. In fact, back when we first met he still had a mid-1940′s Harley-Davidson 45ci flathead motor, transmission and front forks sitting in his basement, along with an old Honda and a Lambretta scooter. He’s also a major Cushman enthusiast and still subscribes to the club newsletter to this day.

In the mid 1980′s, whenever we would visit Pam’s family, I would go down to the basement and just sit there examining the old 45. I would inspect the forks and imagine all the ways I could find the rest of the parts and make that thing run again. It was a complete bike when he bought it, but over the years he parted it out—as he is wont to do with many of his motorized projects—until there was nothing left but these three sections. I would spend time down there in that basement as if I were before some kind of holy altar and dream. Unfortunately, I guess I never let him know of my lust for that old motor and one day he sold it. Years later he told me he wished he still had it so he could give it to me. Oh well, I guess I should have spoken up.

Over the years we’ve talked a lot about motorcycles and I’ve heard a number of his stories about all kinds of bikes. I’m still not sure how many bikes he’s had over the years, but there have been plenty. But of all the riding stories he’s reflected on there are two bikes that stand out the most, and of those two the one that seems to bring the most pleasure to his eyes while telling the story was a Triumph he rode back in the early 50′s. On my last visit he managed to find a photo of that particular bike. The photo was taken in San Bernardino California in August of 1951 where he was stationed in the Air Force. In the photo he is seated behind his buddy, Ishii Ghiro (I’m not sure I spelled that correctly). He told me he and Ishii rode that bike all the way down to Tijuana once just so they could get a look at what was then the worlds longest bar—The Mexicali Beer Hall.

By the looks of the photo the bike was a 1950 Triumph Thunderbird 6T. It was the same bike Marlon Brando’s character, Johnny Strabler rode in the movie The Wild One. Henry is quite proud to point out his bike also had crash bars and riveted saddle bags. He rode that bike all over the place. Primarily up and down the California coast, and once from his home in Florence, Alabama to Scott Air Force base outside of St. Louis. He wanted to ride the bike out to California from Alabama, but his mom talked him out of it, so he had his father ship it out there for him in a giant wooden crate. Sadly, he ended up selling it to a friend while he was out in California.

His other bike story involved a 1949 Harley-Davidson Hydra Glide. He’s quick to point out that this was the year H-D introduced tubular front fork suspension. He once rode this bike from Florence, Alabama all the way to Key West and back—a total of 2,100 miles. He told me he just woke up one morning and the weather was beautiful, so he decided to just take off for Key West without any real planning. He threw a fews changes of clothes in his saddlebags and just hit the road. He made it all the way to Tallahassee on his first day.

Then a cold front moved in. When he woke up the next morning there was frost all over the ground. Worse than that, all he had packed was a light jacket. He said it was a pretty darn cold ride for the first few miles, but as he progressed further south things improved. After spending a week or so in Key West he headed back home and by the time he got back north of Tallahassee the weather was even colder than it was before. He said with a laugh, “I would ride for awhile and then pull over and run up and down the side of the road to warm myself back up.” Eventually he stopped and found some scrap cardboard, which he stuffed inside of his clothes to block the wind until he finally made it home. I imagine that was a sight to see.

When I listen to Henry’s stories I think of the miles he road on bikes built in the late 40s and early 50s. Then I think of the comments I hear from some riders today regarding what kind of bike they would or wouldn’t ride on a long trip. All I can say is any late model 883 Sportster or Triumph Bonneville would feel like a Cadillac compared to what Henry was riding back then. So next time you plan a long trip be grateful for the bike you have beneath you no matter what model it is, and don’t think you can’t do a long trip just because it’s “smaller” than a touring bike. Just get out and ride, that’s what Henry did.

I went for a short ride today to check out a place recommended by a friend of mine. Jere’s Cyclecraft in Moreland, Georgia is about 45 miles southwest of Atlanta. Jere Hall (pronounced Jerry) has been in business here since 1973 and has a wonderful store and shop. They have been featured in a number of motorcycle publications from Easyriders to The Horse/Back Street Choppers.

Nestled in the trees out in the country, Jere’s is in a great location. They are also the only official distributor of Zipper’s performance products in Georgia—which is good for me because I run a ThunderMax ECM on my Road King. This is why I visited today in fact, because I plan on having Jere do some fine tuning to my EFI. My buddy Jerry Wilson just had a lot of work done to his Road Glide and is very happy with the experience.

They also have a nice store with a good selection of parts and accessories. Jere is a very polite and soft spoken dude and puts you at ease as soon as you meet him. They also provides an area they refer to as “The Motorcycle Stretch Spot” for riders who want to take a break or meet up with friends. It’s an area next to the shop in the trees with picnic tables, a canopy and rest rooms.

Here is an excerpt from their website:

“We deal primarily in parts, accessories, service and repair for American made V-twins. With Jere having been a Triumph Bonneville rider for most of his adult life, however, we also carry a smail inventory of British parts to service and repair the occasional British motorcycle that comes our way. Although our facility and staff have grown over the years, we have adhered to our goal of making Jere’s Cyclecraft a place that our customers will always enjoy visiting. And our long history of providing the highest quality service is important to us, as is the trust we have earned from our customers. We have never forgotten that it is our customers to whom we owe our continued success. The coffee is always hot, and we cordially invite you to stop by for a visit. In addition to the coffee, expect a well-stocked showroom, friendly service, and a cordial but knowledgeable staff.”

Jere’s Cyclecraft
1976 Martin Mill Road
Moreland, Georgia 30259

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