Better Beaters - Building Cars and Daily Drivers

Harley Wings Over America. Part One. Four weeks across the country.

This just kind of says it all.

The Summer of 1979. A 28 day trip around the USA, over 9,500 miles long, visiting the states of, Nevada,Utah, Colorado,New Mexico,Oklahoma,Texas, Arkansas, Tennessee, Georgia, North Carolina,Virginia,Maryland, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and New York, Then into Canada. Through the province of Ontario. Crossed back into the USA at Sault Ste Marie. I continued through Michigan,Wisconsin, Minnesota, South Dakota,Wyoming, Idaho, Oregon and finally back home to California.

Coast to Coast, North and South, breakdowns and bad weather. Washington DC, York. road rash in Pennsylvania. Good folks in Arkansas. This trip was the dream of a lifetime. Just me and my Sportster.

My Sportster was equipped a Harley Davidson compact windshield and saddlebags. I had installed one of those new "King Sporster" gas tanks that held three and a half gallons of gas. Not a lot compared to an Electra Glide, but quite an improvement over the "Frisco" set up that I had taken to British Columbia. A sissybar and a tank bag gave me a way to tie down my gear and hold my camera and maps.

A set of staggered dual pipes were just available for the '79 model which fit on my CR. I had purchased a self supporting two person tent at a back packing store, I wasn't going to try and hammer down tent stakes in the dark anymore! My riding attire consisted of a set of Buckskin Buckaroo leathers and a Harley hat. For some reason I din't think that I would need to take a helmet. I was wrong.

At this time the US was suffering through another energy crisis. Gas stations were closing early, there was odd and even gas rationing, and there was even chatter about denying gas to non essential hobby vehicles. Off road vehicles, boats, and motorcycles. I was very concerned as I had wanted to take a big motorcycle  trip around the US for a long time. I was beginning to wonder If I would even get the chance. I figured that the best time for the trip was now, and it was, for various other reasons. Little did I know that life would get more complicated in the years to come.  It was a good thing that I went when I did.

My plan was for myself and my good buddy Rick to take the trip together. We had just taken a trip through the Southwest last Summer. However his life had gotten complicated by having just gotten a new job. Even he would admit that it wasn't a great job, and not likely to lead anywhere, but he was the responsible type. He didn't think that it would be right to just quit.

I was going one way or the other. My plans continued.

My goal was to circumnavigate the country. I would start out heading across Nevada to Colorado, then down into Arizona, and through the Southwest, across Texas, then into the South and up the Atlantic Coast.  I would make stops  at Graceland, in Washington DC, then onto NYC up into Canada around the Great Lakes, down into into Wisconsin to visit the HD factory and museum. From there I would head west across the Great Plains states into Montana, Idaho, Oregon and back down into California.

I had originally projected for the trip to take around six weeks. This time I made provisions for funds. This was before the proliferation of easy credit cards. People still used traveler's checks. I decided that I could have my Mom wire me money through Western Union. I originally thought that I would be able to access my account at Bank of America, as I went through different states. I figured it was called Bank OF America. I learned that at that time branches ended at the California state line. BOA was actually Bank of California. Still, Western Union was a satisfactory arrangement.

Hitting the road, solo and fancy free. It's not a feeling I'm likely to experience again.

I left Fremont Ca. at 8:00 am on June 25th. I decided to retrace last years route to Wells Nevada. Six hundred miles in the first day. Daily mileage was to vary from four to five hundred miles. I didn't bother to take one picture in Nevada

The Bonneville Salt Flats. I had only read about this place in Hot Rod magazine.
I got a little salt on the tires!

Passing through the Bonneville Salt Flats. I was on my way to Salt Lake. City. I wanted to see the Great Salt Lake and Promitary point where the cross continental railroads connected.

There were fruit filled cherry trees growing throughout the park.
Campers were allowed to enjoy the fruit.

The lake is a very pretty blue, but nobody mentions that it's smells a mite ripe.
Promontory Point is not too far from here.

Area around Moab Utah.
People thought it might become oceanside property.

I guess that unsettled times can generate a certain social malaise. There was a mania going on at the time that a large earthquake  was going to cause California to fall into the sea. Actually all points east of Moab. Lot's of people were gathering there in preparation. It was so hot that I couldn't sleep. The air in air mattress got so hot. I just slept on the foam mat. I discarded the air mattress for the duration of the trip. In the morning I stopped at a cafe and drank three large glasses of liquid. A large glass of orange juice, an equally large glass of milk, and a finally a large cup of coffee.

Deadhorse Point and Canyonlands National Park.

From Utah I was on my way to Colorado over the Continental Divide. Through Colorado into New Mexico.

Lots of interesting topography.

Colorado doesn't seem too far away.

Last Summer Rick and I had visited Taos New Mexico. This trip I made the time to visit a few spots that I hadn't had time to see.

Small town life.

Just like an old barn, I guess that it's easier to just let this building fall down on it's own.

Things have been back to normal at the courthouse for the last decade.

I went to New Mexico because I wanted to visit the courthouse at Tierra Amarilla.  A Chicano activist named Reies Tijerina (09/21/1923- 01/19/2015) had taken over the courthouse in a protest to highlight the need to ensure rights for Mexican American citizens. He and a group of Alianza members were armed and occupied the courthouse for several days until they surrendered. This was all over the media in California and even almost ten years later, I wanted to visit the site. The town was becoming something of a ghost town. I ate breakfast at a very homey little diner. There was a tapestry on the wall of the Kennedy's and Dr. Martin Luther King and an episode of I love Lucy playing on the television. Later I passed through the nuclear testing area, in Alamogordo (on the highway) just stopping to read a sign relating the events.

Old adobe buildings are quite common. Many are still regular use.

I climbed this ladder to take a look around.

It seems that quite a few people made their home here once.

After Tierra Amarilla I stopped to visit the Santa Clara pueblo at Espanola out side of Sante Fe. This is an ancient, abandoned, pre Columbian population center built into a cliff. There wasn't anyone one else around and I was free to roam around and explore. Hard to believe that I climbed and crawled all over that site without worrying about rattlesnakes!

Most rooms had a view, at least on one side.

This is the opening to a Kiva, a circular ceremonial chamber. Entrance was discouraged but not prohibited. I climbed down the ladder, took a quick look around and cowardly scampered back into the sunlight.

I was headed down into Arizona, I wanted to visit the Carlsbad Caverns. I had read about these caves for years. I had spent the night at a motel in Albuquerque. I would usually camp out for three days then spend a night in a motel where I could relax, take a long shower and enjoy a good night's sleep in a real bed.  About then I would wash my laundry, though there were usually washers available at the KOAs where I stayed.

Albuquerque New Mexico. A pleasant town. I spent a morning in a laundromat,
washing my clothes and playing the jukebox. Also feeling a little bit homesick.

I was on my way, bright and very early, around 75 miles out of town, just as I passed Socorro, when I heard a strange metallic knocking sound before my motor died. It wouldn't restart but the motor would turn over with the starter. I was standing by the side of the road, in the desert sun, wondering what to do. Cell phones hadn't been invented yet, and I probably wouldn't have been able to get service anyway.  I needed a pay phone. I didn't have Triple A either. I wasn't going to abandon my bike at the side of the road, not only did it have all my stuff, I didn't want it to end up stolen. I didn't see much of a choice. I tried pushing it for a bit, and even though the road was flat, I didn't think I could make it to a gas station. Wherever that might be.

Fate intervened and a touring cyclist saw me and stopped. He asked what happened and if I wanted a tow. He was prepared with a long rope, which he secured to the rear frame of his BMW twin and we wrapped it around the fork tubes and triple clamps of my bike. I asked if he could tow me all the way back to Albuquerque and he said no, but he would take me to the nearest gas station.  We proceed back down the highway at 45 mph, yielding to the shoulder when traffic increased.  We reached a gas station in a very small town where he bid me good luck before he continued his trip. I pulled the point cover and discovered that the point advance cam assembly had snapped off.  The advance weights had been hitting the inside of the case as they spun around until the vibration had caused the bolt to break.

I was mulling over my options. The stub of the broken bolt was still in the end of the camshaft. I didn't have the tools to extract that. I needed a drill and an EZ OUT extractor. I would need to pull the timing case cover, which held the four camshafts and idler gears. Then I could take the affected cam to a shop where either they could remove the broken bolt or I could buy a replacement cam and timing assembly. My plan was to push the bike to a local motel, get a room, pull the parts and then take a bus back to Albuquerque. I would then take the bus back to the motel with the new parts and button the bike up again. Another problem was rearing it's head. The Fourth of July weekend was coming up.  I knew that many businesses would be closed that Saturday, and maybe Monday too. The prospect of spending several days in that little town cooling my heels and draining my funds did not seem very appealing. I needed someone with a truck to take my bike back to Albuquerque where I knew that there was a Harley dealer, since I had bought oil there before I left. This was going to be a long trip, almost 150 mile round trip, costing a fair amount of gas and time. I was willing and able to pay some one for their time and trouble. It would be a four hour round trip.



The sight of my bike parked outside the service bay attracted quite a bit of attention. A nicely dressed couple in a new Thunderbird asked about my situation, and said that they could give me a ride back to Albuquerque if I could leave in ten minutes. I told them that I needed to do some work on my bike first. I thanked them and as they drove away I noticed that the Thunderbird had state legislator's plates on it. People were very friendly in New Mexico.


The gas station owner was curious about what I was going to do. I told him that I needed someone with a truck to drive me and my bike back to town. He called his brother to ask him if he could do that for me. His brother showed up and told me that he was too busy, but he was willing to take me a around to ask some of his family and friends. We made the rounds but most were busy preparing for the Fourth and they begged off. Finally he told me that he had a nephew who was kind of sketchy but had an old truck that could probably run long enough make the trip. This wasn't too confidence inspiring and when the nephew showed up with his buddy in tow, things looked even bleaker.

No, it wasn't these two but it was close!
photo source: Up in Smoke, the movie

This was n't the same truck, but close enough!
photo source: dreamstome.com

Their truck didn't inspire any confidence either. Their uncle, who had been very gracious to me, assured me that they might look kind of sketchy but they were goods kids and completely harmless. Maybe. I excused myself to go to the bathroom and hid my money in my boot. I put my large pocketknife in my right pocket for easy access. I offered to  pay them fifty bucks over the cost of gas. They agreed saying that that they had some friends that they could "party with" over the weekend. So it made the trip free for them.

The pickup had some pretty big holes in the bed but there was enough solid flooring to hold the motorcycle. We loaded up the bike and headed out. I managed to secure the shotgun position. I could always jump out of the truck if things got out of hand. There wasn't a radio and we made a little small talk. We chugged along at 55 mph. as the sky turned dark and a light rain started.

Things were going well until the duo decided that the party could get started a little earlier than anticipated. One of them produced a doobie, and proceeded to light up! They were polite enough to offer me a hit, which I declined. Luckily the windows were open because the defroster didn't work that well. Now I was super paranoid, I didn't want to end up in a New Mexico jail, that would definitely ruin my vacation plans. Thankfully that joint was the only one they had, and after they burned that one out they could score some more in Albuquerque. These guys located the Harley dealer without any problems. The driver backed right up to the loading dock and we rolled the bike off the truck. I was happy to pay the two guys an extra twenty five bucks for the lift. They happily drove off to seek that other dealer they were familiar with.

Luckily the shop was able to work on my bike immediately. Closing time was approaching but the job was finished in time and we rolled my bike out of the shop right at 5:00 pm. I went right back to the same motel that I had left that morning, and spent another night in Albuquerque. At least it wasn't in the exact same room!

I found my steer horns here. I still have them hanging on my garage wall.

Commonly referred to as Cadillac Ranch, the actual site was known as the Ant Farm.
Unfortunately tourist/vandals have stripped the vandalized the poor old Cadillacs.

Back on the road across Texas where I stopped to buy a pair of steer horns which I carried throughout the remainder of the trip, not without comment. I crossed the narrowest part of Texas, the Panhandle. I heard a lot of bad news about the availability of gasoline, the worst of the trip. I don 't recollect much about crossing through Oklahoma. Except that it was the windiest state that I had ever driven through. My bike continued to run poorly.

In to Fort Smith Arkansas, more motorcycle trouble. The motor was having trouble maintaining highway speeds. I stopped at the local HD dealer and they finally fixed what was wrong. I think that the mechanics in Albuquerque had forgotten to lube the rubbing block of the points and they had worn down . This reduced the point gap opening which reduced dwell. Dwell is the time that the points are closed which allows the coil to become saturated with electricity to make a strong spark. Less dwell equals a less powerful spark which just ruins higher rpm operation. Finally the bike was running right.

Most dealers outside of the big cities didn't have fancy showrooms.
This was a time when Harley Davidson started to make more demands on their dealers.

I wonder if that dealer is still there?

The manager of the shop Gary, was quite friendly and he invited me to go out with him and some of his friends to a couple of the local bars. We first went out to a bar and grill for dinner, then to one his local watering holes. I noticed that I was getting some unwanted attention and looks. I asked Gary if it was okay that I was there. He assured me that it was okay because I was with him, but he wouldn't recommend that I come here on my own! I asked Gary what part of the country this was, Was it part of the Midwest? No, he answered, "this is The South!" I must admit that I felt a little apprehensive after that! I was hoping that Easyrider was just a movie.

It's always been a policy of mine that I stay way from local bars and clubs. It's my opinion that nothing good can come from mixing being a stranger, with a healthy dose of alcohol. I'm sure that this practice has kept me away from a lot of trouble. That night, I remember standing in the parking lot watching a large flock of birds flying in circles around a large tree. I had never noticed birds doing that before, especially at night. I guess that  they must have been some common local bird because no one else thought anything about them. It struck me as a bit eerie. Funny the things that you remember. I decided to buy a helmet before I left town. Helmet law states were coming up.