I saw a beautiful exhibit of vintage Motorcycles at the state capitol complex today.
I had only read about these machines before today and never expected to see any of them. Some of the were made in the beginning 1900’s. The early motorcycles used a leather belt to supply power to the real wheel and had a “pressurized fuel tank” (to help with the flow of gasoline) to the engine. As the bikes progressed towards the era of the second world war, they became as much of a work of art, as a form of cheap transportation. Thousands of them were used by the military in both the United States and England.
Looking at some of them today reminds me of my grandfather in the town of Rocky Mount North Carolina. My grandfather and grandmother were poor farmers. They lived in a little town called Battleboro on a farm on the outskirts of town.
I can still remember him vividly as he pushed his “whiz” motorbike down a dirt path, “popping” the clutch, and zooming off in a cloud of dust toward the little town to purchase a few groceries at the local store. He was strong as a mule, and at 78, could still get around very well. You need to be in “good shape” to run fast enough to start an engine this way.
To this day, I still buy cars with a standard transmission because its possible to start them with a short push if you have a manual clutch.
The exhibit will only be here for a few weeks. I heard someone mention that one of the bikes here is VERY rare. Doing a quick “google” search, I saw a similar bike, at auction, for around $40,000 but the price could still go much higher.
Of course, it’s impractical to spend any time “on the road” with most of these machines, but as a work of art, and a piece of history, they’re priceless.
I spent about an hour just viewing some of them from a mechanical standpoint.
I think often of riding a motorcycle down the “Blue Ridge Parkway” in the early autumn months. I recently read a book called “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance”. It was a fascinating book and the authors description of riding in the open air was very stimulating.
I couldn’t help but notice the “suicide” shifters on many of these early bikes. It would indeed be a challenge to master one of these.
Who knows…maybe someday (in my mid 70’s) I will still be able run along side a motorbike, “pop” the clutch, and zoom off in a cloud of dust as my grandfather used to do at the farm in North Carolina.
But then again, it was finally his demise when a driver ran a stop sign and knocked him to the ground at a busy intersection. It wasn’t the VERY end, but several days later, a blood clot ended his life when he fell out of bed at the hospital.
He was tough old bird and I imagine he lived life to the fullest as he felt the wind blow around him and heard all the country sounds he moved simply down the highway.
I can’t help but to admire him.
