I can't speak for everyone who lives life in the fast lane, but when some guys get dressed for a long day in the saddle, they look more like the buffo basso biker in The Village People than Lee Marvin in The Wild One. Are these guys motorcycle riders or bathroom attendants at a gay pride hayride? I'd love to say how much I enjoy feeling the breeze in my knees, but I'm a pussy. Getting decked out to go on a long ride is low on my list of favorite pastimes. Truth be told, I'd rather drive the chase truck. Doing so lets me slip into some basketball shorts, find NPR on the radio, and shift into overdrive as the miles melt effortlessly behind me. I love the open highway as much as the next guy, but I hate the painstaking preparation and frustration that usually come along for the ride. So when my friends Chris Collins and Bill Bryant asked if I'd drive chase while they dodged mechanical heartache on last summer's Gypsy Run, all I could say was, "Hand me the keys."
I Heart NY
Arriving in Brooklyn as they did four full days before the start of their official ride, Chris and Bill satisfied their jones for pothole diving before I flew into JFK. On one of their metropolitan joyrides, my friends rumbled up to a block party at the Matchless Bar in Queens. On that cloudy Sunday, the Matchless Bar and Works Performance Motorcycle Shop were hosting a motorcycle show with cheap drinks and live music for anyone stupid enough to ride through New York City with rain on the horizon. Of course the place was packed.
Greaser Mike, a Triumph aficionado on a lightning-fast 750, is a regular at the Matchless Bar, and being a Trumpet player himself, Billdozer and Mike made friends fast. While these two did the British bro-down over black and tans, the bar's super-friendly owner convinced Chris to enter his '61 Panhead in the show's American class. There were only two H-Ds on display, but Chris's bike was good enough to take top honors. The prize: a 50-dollar bar tab. Anyone who thinks New Yorkers are rude, greedy, or cheap hasn't tossed one back at the Matchless Bar. Everyone there was pure class.
After exchanging contact info and getting directions to the Indian Larry Legacy Shop from Greaser Mike, Billdozer and Chris headed for the Brooklyn landmark to weld up a broken bracket on Chris's dilapidated crowd pleaser. Greaser Mike is a friend of Paul Cox and Keino, and he assured Chris they'd be happy to help him repair that which Gotham City's shitty roads had broken. Of course, Paul and Keino were as helpful and accommodating as ever. Bill and Chris hadn't been in the Big Apple 24 hours and already they had fallen in love with the place.
Love To Hate Gypsies
Since its inception last spring, the Gypsy Run-known during its formative stages as the Love to Hate Run-was billed as an informal four-day ride from NYC to the Catskill Mountains. If you hadn't been lurking in chopper chat rooms since May, no one could blame you for missing it. Gypsy Run founders wanted it that way, and the event's casual manner ensured its underground appeal. If you like accurate maps and shiny gold pins, the Gypsy Run wasn't your kind of ride.