The fun started on Friday at the Tropicana, where the
Mid-America Antique Motorcycle Auction was taking place. Though not a Chapter event,
many of our members attended and a few were even in on some of the selling, or
bidding. There were many fine machines to look at and make a bid on, if you had
a mind to. After checking out the machines and saying hello to friends, it was
time to head for the Railroad Pass Hotel and Casino in Henderson.
Once there, our thoughts turned to prepping for the next
mornings ride. We were pleased to see we already had quite a showing of our own
antiques in the parking lot. As this was our first, try at a Las Vegas run, both Kevin Spear and
myself, the run planners. Were a little apprehensive as far as what the turn
out might be. We were both very pleased to see all the machines lined up, just
waiting for tomorrows fun. There were many Indians, chiefs, scouts, bobbers, a
good showing of Harleys, J’s, JD’s, a two cammer, a tricked out 45, VL’s one of
which had a wild paint job, a couple of Knuckleheads and at least three
Sporster’s, including a neat trike, several sharp Triumphs and two BMW’s, one a
side car rig and a Ural with side car. We had people from the LA chapter, the Fort Sutter chapter and two hardy souls
ventured out form one of the Oregon chapters, and I am not sure
which – either the Evergreen or the Oregon Trail chapter. We also had a very
good showing of wife’s and other family members.
Saturday
morning was clear and cold as we gathered in the parking lot. We headed out at
pretty close to 9 AM for downtown Las Vegas, the Venetian and the Art
of the Motorcycle Exhibit at the Guggenheim. At the most, we had 30 machines in
column going down the road, an impressive sight. We all enjoyed the exhibit and
all the wonderful motorcycles in it; everyone I talked to was very impressed
with it. The only complaint that I heard and I was in agreement with it was the
fact that there were no photos allowed at all, no cameras even allowed out!
That was a big disappointment for us all. However they had available excellent
examples of all in photos, I believe – only you could not take any photos
yourself.
After noon we headed out for Lake Mead and lunch, I was told to
pick up the pace at this point, as we were a little behind schedule. So, the
old machines spread out and we let em breath abit. We hit some very nice roads
around Lake
Mead;
just wish there were more of them. The old machines were now in merry flight
and feeling the need, the need for speed. We got to the Las Vegas marina all to soon, but
what a great ride getting there. Flying down the road at speed, with beautiful
vistas of the desert and lake, we were all cruising well above the posted speed
limit and all the machines and riders truly enjoyed it, or at least I know I
did, and from all the grins I saw at the marina, I am confident the rest of you
did too.
Lunch went very well and we started saddling up, as the
sun got low on the horizon. Here we had the only misshape of the day that I am
aware of. As we were about to head out, our own Kevin Spear was on his Harley J
model. About to lead out with a portion of the riders, Kevin’s J model was
running good and as you might know. Those early Harley’s have an excellent
power to weight ratio. Kevin took off with a hand full of throttle, going to
let the dirt fly. Just one problem, he had not taken off his lock! A big
heavy-duty cable and lock, which went through his back wheel around his frame.
That Harley some how made it almost 20 feet, throwing dirt as it went.
Unfortunately, that was followed immediately by a violent and very sudden STOP!
Luckily, Kevin was not thrown from the machine and Un- injured. However, the J
needs some serious work, but even with that. Kevin and some others did some
heavy heaving and bent everything true enough for Kevin and the J model to
finish the ride in fine shape, those old Harleys are tuff!
As the sun went down, so did the temperatures and it was
cold enough already. If you were not bundled up good, it was COLD. I on the
other hand, being quite bundled up, was feeling fine. As we rode through Henderson, passing the hotel and
casino. We lost most of our group, as most headed into the warmth of the hotel
and the good times to be had in the hospitality room. A hand full of us made it
out to the Hover Dam though and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves doing it. We
headed for the hotel as the sunset and the ride back was brisk indeed, again
though – enjoyed by all. Back in the hospitality room, lots of fun was going on
visiting and talking about the day’s events and I found out, making fun of my
outfit. Which, I had picked up at the army surplus, just for the run. It might
have looked funny, but it kept me warm.
Sunday started out just as chilly and not quite so
smooth, we broke off into two groups for the start. A mistake, as the second
group was quite a bit delayed in heading out. Once we did head out, I felt it
was too late to try to catch the other group. They had headed for Willow Beach fish hatchery earlier. As
we approached the Hoover Dam, I decided to halt there and wait for the early
group to return and meet back up with them at the Dam. So that we could all,
head out for the Gold Mine together, it being much more fun riding as a group.
After waiting quite a spell, we decided not to wait any longer and started for
the mine. As luck would have it though, as we stopped for gas, the early group
pulled up.
Once again united with the whole group, we were off for
the El Dorado Gold mine. We had to keep a good pace on Hwy 95, as the traffic
really moves along this stretch of hwy and it was a concern when we planned the
run. However, all went smooth and as we turned off on Hwy 165, we slowed our
pace accordingly. The road to the mine was quite nice, especially the closer to
the river you got. As we appeared to ride off into nowhere, in the vastness of
the desert, suddenly we crested some hills and rounded a curve and there was
the mine. The ride there had been cold and the wind was blowing good, knocking
the machines side ways, keeping everyone chilly. As we pulled into the El
Dorado Gold mine though, it suddenly seemed to clearer and calm. Several of us
commented on the warmer feel to the day.
The folks at the Gold mine treated us very well and
pretty much gave us the run of the place. Everyone enjoyed the tours and just
exploring around all the great old buildings and all things rusting. Which are
everywhere, all kinds of neat old relics abound, all kinds of old equipment,
old cars, old trucks. We did not see any antique motorcycles though, except in
the parking lot. This made for quite the attraction, as traffic drove by and
yes, there was some traffic. As we were having lunch a bunch of new machines,
mostly Harleys, but a couple of other cruisers as well rolled up and stopped.
Just out for a ride, they took in the tours and seemed to enjoy them as much as
our group did.
Lunch was the second trouble spot of the run, several
people had said Saturday night that they would not be having a sandwich at the
mine. So, in an effort to not have way too many sandwiches left over, we
decided to minus the number of folks that said they would not be eating on
Sunday. Some how along the way, we came up three short. Most people were very
good sports about it, and a few of us split a sandwich. However, one had to do
without, sorry Homer. I apologize to all for the mistake; hopefully we will
never make that mistake again. As we started back for Henderson, the weather appeared to be
threatening. It looked like we would be getting wet for certain; none of us
looked forward to that. However, it never happened and we were all dry until on
the way back home to SoCal.
The ride back to the hotel was not trouble free though,
as I heard reports of a hard ridden chief seizing up on the return ride. The
machine made it in on its own power, but the damage was done. Sure sorry to
hear about it, but hopefully Nick well have his mighty chief back up in fine
form in short order. Sometimes the old machines run so good, it’s easy to
forget how old they are and be mindful of that fact. I am as guilty as any one
else in that area, cause, as we all know. When they are running good, it feels
so good to let them do just that. As far as I know, there were only one or two
uses of any rescue trucks. I think for a portion of the run, a Triumph which
was fouling plugs unless ridden at 80mph or above, by a doctor among us – who
was, I think more than willing. I felt bad for Phil, until he kicked my butt,
arm wrestling in front of the lepordlady at the bar but then that’s another
story.
The only other casualties were Kevin’s model J Harley,
which technically never quit – one tough machine! In addition, good ol’ Dudley
Pollards fine running Triumph. You need to come up with a better method of
checking your oil level Dudley. Dudley dropped his wire dipstick
in his primary on Sunday morning, so that was it for that fine running Triumph.
Oh yes, my Sport Scouts generator decided to call it quits Saturday night, but
thanks to my trickle charger. The Scout made the ride with no problem, both
days. Of special mention, Harry, Marjorie and Vic Sucher all made the run – a
fine family effort. In addition, Dave and Joan Cook were both in attendance and
enjoyed the activities. Grace McKean was once again back amongst us and I know
all were glad to see her once again, welcome back Grace!
A special thanks also to all the other Chapter members,
who took part and helped to make the run such a success. Also, to Larry Ramos
and Jennifer, Larry still recovering from his work related injuries, drove a
rescue truck and assisted members through out the run. As did Marc Gallin,
despite being quite sick the night before from one bad chili pepper. Above and
beyond mentions, go to Kiwi Mike Tomas, who rode his new engine equipped Chief
out to the run, made the run and rode home on said Chief. Quite a machine,
which passed me on several hills, effortlessly. After several hundred miles, it
sparkled like it had just been taken off a trailer. Vic Sucher also deserves
credit for showing what being a good son is all about, he and Harry made every
mile of that run in their Ural side car out fit, way to go guys and we loved
having you with us once again – has it should be.
Over all it was a grand success and my sincere thanks go
out to all who assisted in making it so. Also, much thanks to our Chapter’s
officers who assisted Kevin and I. Tom Hart, Tim, Marc and Jim Falk all
assisted. Until the next, get together, Tom L.
Viva Las Vegas Part II
By Tom Hart
Kevin
Spear produced his first (Annual?) Las Vegas run on 1/25/02. He is truly a blessed man,
no question, evidenced by the fact that the perfect storms hit before and after
the run, but left us high and dry for a very enjoyable three-day cruise of the
hamlets surrounding Las Vegas.
Members
from other Chapters and local Nevadans joined us, making our group about 44
strong. Those who attended had a great time and expressed a desire for a repeat
of the run. Even my lovely wife, “Little Miss bring that motorcycle any closer
to me and I’ll kill you” Jill Hart had fun. The ladies
shopping/gambling/carousing group headed by Janice Graber included my boss;
“The Jill” as described above, Doc’s wife Marge, Dave Cook’s wife Joan and
Kevin’s wife Kimmy. Our own Grace Mckean, aboard her trusty 12 volt white
stallion Indian Chief, heated gloves and all, made a good showing for the
ladies riders.
Kevin
put out a first class effort, as Tom Lovejoy would say. I will feature Kevin in
this article, not just because he and his wife did a great job at putting the
ride together, but also because Kevin went all out in providing us with some
really fine entertainment.
On Friday, a couple of us took a ride into Vegas and
visited the auction. We then rode back in near freezing temperatures to the
host hotel in Boulder City, where Kevin had set up the
hospitality room for our relaxation, complete with a nice selection of
anti-freeze devices. Tom Lovejoy made a fashion statement at the hospitality
room by wearing a very stylish after hour’s number. It was a one piece, OD
green cold weather flight suit. Tom’s outfit was a bit sung so he removed the
sleeves to accommodate his Popeye arms. The rest of the outfit was equally
small causing Tom to display a good deal of bare ankle due the shortness of the
legs. I must admit that it did have a nice holster concealed on the inside
chest flap. Craig Dillman took one look at Tom’s fashionable attire and asked
if they also made it in a man’s size. Making a wise crack at someone who would
wear an outfit like that in public is a bit risky.
After
taking advantage of Kevin’s hospitality, various groups left the hotel in
search of fine dining. We found our
fine dining experience at “Emerial Lagase’s” located in the MGM Grand, where I
swear to God, Tim Graber ordered one whole page of the menu and this was not a
cheap place either. He then took several hours to consume his meal. The rest of
us drank ourselves silly watching him. I would have joined Tim in the
eat-a-thon, but I had already taken a second out on our house to purchase some
land so I was a little tapped out.
Saturday
brought a new day; otherwise it would have still been Friday. Tom Lovejoy
Assisted Kevin in getting the ride off, on time, at 0’cold thirty. Our group
headed for the Guggenheim museum in Vegas. We spent an hour or so at the museum
then headed out to somewhere else. We ended up at the Las Vegas Marina at Lake Mead where a local café arranged
a special menu and service on our behalf. This was also the site Kevin picked
to entertain us. If anyone thinks I’m kidding, just check out the photos on the
Internet. As we were about to depart the marina, Kevin attempted a maneuver
with his bike that I have never seen before. He fired the bike up, shifted it
into first gear and grabbed a hand full of throttle, then popped the clutch and
away he didn’t go. Kevin was stymied, but he would not, could not give up. More
throttle, more clutch action and slowly he moved out. Kevin explained later
that he assumed he was digging into the soft dirt and therefore taxing his
mighty motor. He had boasted to us about his bike’s new racing pistons, cams
and low-end gearing, all of which produced an abundance of power, so stalling
out was not an option. Kevin kept at it for several yards of forward motion,
all the while the rear end of his bike got lower and lower to the ground.
Finally his knees started to drag, which was about the time he realized
something really bad was happening. Kevin had forgotten to remove the cable
lock securing the rear wheel and fender of his bike. His (bike’s) rear end
sucked in on itself as the cable tightened like something you might see in a
Roadrunner cartoon. None of us could figure out how in the heck Kevin made it
so far with the rear wheel locked up and the fender crushed in on itself, but I
know one thing for sure, I’ve got to get me some of those pistons. Some of the
guys used a logging chain attached to the trailer and my trucks tire iron to
bend Kevin’s bike back into a ride-worthy shape, then off we went again, broken
tire iron and all. Kevin’s bike looked more like a rollover victim than the end
result of a boo-boo. All I needed to do was throw some dirt on Kevin and his
bike and scratch up his helmet a bit, then we could have told everyone how
Kevin survived the terrible plunge over the cliff. Our final stop was back at
the host hotel hospitality room where we once again pondered the events of the day
before heading out in search of vittles.
Sunday
was yet another day. The riding conditions continued to be perfect. Lots of
clouds for cover and temperatures in the 50’s. The ride started promptly at
9,10, or 11 o’clock. A couple of us (me, Tim Graber, the evil
Homer, Doc and Vic Sucher) got totally lost in the clouds and rode out in front
of the main group. We visited the fish hatchery on the far side of Hoover Dam
before Jim Falk discovered our position and ordered us back to our unit. We
considered taking Jim out, dumping him and his bike in the river, then
continuing on with our own ride, but there were to many witnesses, so we
followed Jim back to the front line. We reunited in Boulder City before continuing onto a mining
camp somewhere near Lake Mojave. The groups ride through Boulder City and on the highway beyond
was quite an impressive sight to see (hear and smell). I’ve always contended
that there is nothing more exciting to watch than a line of gas guzzling, oil
spewing, smoking old American iron machines roaring down the highway in
semi-unison. On Saturday’s ride, Phil Shore gave the smoking bit a good
try on his Triumph Trident by blowing out a cylinder and sending lots of
annoying smoke and oil my way, but it’s just not the same thing. It doesn’t
taste or smell the same, but it does soil the face-shield. Our bikes (Indians
and Harleys) smoke by design, nay a way of life. British bikes smoke as a way
of asking for help. Dudley Pollard avoided the possibility of riding an
embarrassing smoking British machine by “accidentally” dropping a piece of wire
into his bike’s primary case and locking up the chain drive. Sure, Dudley, and some day I’m going to
take riding lessons, or maybe Tim will review the vehicle code and start giving
proper hand signals.
We
had lunch and took tours at the mining camp before heading back to our host
hotel where many of us loaded up for the trip home. Mike Tomas of Kiwi Indian
rode his new ’48 motor all the way from Riverside and planned to ride it home
on Monday. I heard that it snowed on the Cajon Pass on Monday. Has anyone seen
or heard from Mike lately?
My
thanks to the trouble truckers, Larry Ramos and the lovely Jennifer and the not
so lovely, but ailing Marc Gallin with his deviated septum and all. What
happened Marc? Talking when you should have been listening? Get well soon.
View Photos from the Las Vegas Road Run