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by Robert “Puppy” DeGroat

I think in one of my earlier missives, I might have mentioned that I like adventures, and as such, my wanderings on motorcycles became just that, a ride to another adventure, or even the bridge from adventure to adventure. One of my many faults is that I became a creature of habit and as such, do certain things not out of any sense of need, but rather because that’s what I’ve always done.

One of the three things I was gifted, mechanical aptitude, for lack of a better way to say it, always kept me in work when I wanted it. And so when I needed to gather a mound of traveling cash, with my rep as a Harley mechanic, I could just about guarantee myself a job. Well, with my references and abilities, the problem wasn’t procuring the job, it was convincing the proprietor of the Harley Shop that I would be there long enough to make it worth his while, or at least long enough to clean up his backlog of motorcycles to be repaired. After the references and whatever discussion my qualifications required, the conversation usually went something like this:

“So Mr….Puppy??? When can you start?”

“Oh…tomorrow morning early enough?”

“Good! Good. So then I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Well, Sir, there’s only one thing I’d like to kind of discuss, say, before I commit.”

“Oh? And…?”

“Well, you going to let me off for Sturgis next year, or do I have to…you know… quit?”

“Isn’t that…where you just came from?”

“Well, sure. Haha.”

“That’s a whole year away. Why don’t we come back to this later on in the year?”

“Nah. I’d rather get it out of the way now. That way I can concentrate on my work and not worry about it, ’cause I’m going. I’ve been going for blank amount of years.”

“Well, ok. Um…how long would you be gone for?”

“Let me see…about a week to get there, a week there and say…about four weeks, and maybe I could you know, trim it to three if I absolutely had to, but I’d say four.”

“Damn.” I can see exasperation setting in. From there on it became either an argument or resignation, but I usually got the job. Nobody wanted me working for their competition, and for your info, I only work on HD oriented motorcycles or Indian, old or new.

One of the best letters of recommendation I ever got, I carried around on the road with me till it nearly turned to dust. It said; “Robert ‘Puppy’ DeGroat is well versed in all aspects of Harley Davidson sales and service, works well with customers and while he was under our employ, he developed quite a following.”. Couldn’t lose with that one.

I worked there for a couple of Sturgis’s, I mean years. Every year, the pressure built till I was throwing things and yelling at the top of my lungs; “DAMN! AIN’T IT STURGIS YET!?” The problem with that was, sometimes that was about two weeks after I started work and that was usually within a month of just beginning to wind down from Sturgis, or simply put, not even the new year yet. Everybody got used to it and by the time June of the next year arrived I had a whole group of people wanting to go to Sturgis with me.

Anyway, back to the adventures. As some of you out there are aware, out of a group of twenty people, only some will follow through, and about one out of every four or five would show up, and some of those even wimped out when the road took over. The road has a whole new set of requirements and they aren’t particularly the same as around town riding. When you bring a bike up to cruising speed, the vibration isn’t the same as when it is up and down, through the gears, hit the brakes, turn, up and down, through the gears, hit the brakes, stop and park. The bikes of most round-towners, hardly ever get properly warmed up, and believe you me, bikes on the road do. I’m not saying that these fellows who build their bikes and ride them around town don’t build some fine machines. They do! They are basically the backbone of the custom bike shows, and their wild radical bikes are usually the top winners, but those bikes are not built for the road and here’s a simple example.

My favorite style of motorcycle is the modified chopper/bobber with fat bob gas tanks, Ape-hangers, springer, up-sweep pipes with fish-tails or reverse cone megaphones, both sound bad to the bone, or six foot stacks, and a tall sissy-bar with a taillight at the top. It’s important to be as close to the ground as possible. I like the bobbed back fender with a little flip up in the back, and HD copied that from us, not the other way around, as they did every other good thing you see out there, including the eternal race for more power and inches. Whatever, I like the front wheel to be a 19, so that I got some meat on the ground, but there is a trend now to bigger tires for twenty-one inch wheels and that is acceptable, and of course, to show off the wheel and the springer, no front fender. BUT, that only works for a little while on the road. First thing is, you’re eating everything the road has to offer right off the front tire. In the rain it’s a constant high pressure shower even if you took one already before you hit the road. On the other hand, a little shower every now and then never hurt anybody, but fighting that constant high pressure blast for hours or days gets old real fast, and you can try all kinds of tricks, but eventually you’ll usually get a front fender of some type.

Next thing is the pipes. Now what do they have to do with anything? Well, let me tell you. I have to admit I’ve seen people, even knew a few that tied, bungied, or even duct taped crap all over their motorcycles just to get it home. One of the plagues of road riding is carrying crap. If you’re going to spend any time out there, you need certain things. Those things take up space. Space, on a chopper is at a minimum. You, and maybe the girl on the p-pad on the back fender take up the space on a chopper. Can you imagine building a one-off custom bike with lots of nice goodies and chrome and a nice paint job…with road grime all over it, or heaven forbid, with crap taped all over it? I can’t, but I’ve seen it done a few times. But the fact is, those awesome sounding pipes are in the way of a set of saddlebags. Oh yeah, you could run one on the other side. Right. Okey-dokey. Whatever blows your skirt up. Ultimately, what is a bike with a front fender and saddlebags, but a dresser.

Oh no! My bike is not a chopper/bobber any more! It’s a dresser, but at least I’m not eating road crap and I have someplace to put my stuff. And when I’m at Sturgis, or Daytona, or Laconia, and I’m envious of all those choppers and my bike’s a dresser, or as close as you can get.

So now, with the first requirements out of the way, the shape, generally of the bike, the next phase is the condition of the bike. And as tragic and gut-wrenching as that is sometimes, it takes a leap into the unknown to find out what is required, and that is the adventure. The only other option is to load it into a trailer and race from home to out there, wherever there is, in the comfort and security of your four or six wheeled vehicle, unload and ride into the rally as if you just arrived from a long trip, sans adventures. Some of the finest friends I have in my life were made at road stops where my bike was not cooperating with me or the road, and sometimes, that’s how I got a job, because my bike needed work. Now that’s an adventure. I remember putting over the hills of western New York one year…Oh well, that’s another story, for another time.

John “Puppy” DeGroat

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