Over the weekend of the Barber Classic Competition, I had a number of objectives: to indicate off a number of bikes, hold with mates, and race my 1960 Harley-Davidson pan/shovel (or “grime shovel”) within the cross-country race. This race was normally reserved for the likes of Hondas, Yamahas, Husqvarnas, OSSAs, and Pentons. For sure, I used to be the odd man out and loving it.
Most of my fellow riders could be on sub-300-lb bikes. However my dance companion of alternative was a 600-lb, 1200cc Milwaukee gorilla. Oh, and did I point out it was the early inventory inflexible chassis? Even at registration, they requested me repeatedly, “Are you positive you wanna undergo with this?” They clearly didn’t know my status for throwing this factor down hearth roads, energy line trails, ice lakes, and flat tracks each likelihood I get.
Throughout the pre-race assembly, Iron & Air editor Adam Fitzgerald requested me how I used to be feeling. “I’m nervous,” I recall saying, and I by no means get nervous a couple of race. Nevertheless it was time to disregard the butterflies, drop the clutch, seize a handful of throttle, and attempt to present a few of these guys a wheel.
Though I used to be outgunned, I did accomplish what I got here to do: begin, do a number of laps, and preserve a hand in a less complicated time – a time when a stripped-down Harley, Triumph, Norton, Indian, or BSA was roughly your solely possibility for a race bike, whether or not it was cross-country, hair scramble, grime observe, street race, or hill climb.
One of many best issues about occasions like Barber is the camaraderie between all of the riders and mutual respect for anybody prepared to revive and preserve a classic machine, then beat it mercilessly at race tempo. These males had been troopers carrying the flag of their favourite producer. On the finish of the day, not many cared about successful, however simply the enjoyment of driving.
In these few temporary moments, I used to be alive. Now all I can do is wait till subsequent 12 months with a craving to see extra mates, extra classic machines, and naturally, extra racing. If it’s essential to gas the bike hearth that burns inside you, get to the Barber Vintage Festival. It’s going to preserve your fires stoked all 12 months lengthy. This, I promise.
This text first appeared in subject 18 of Iron & Air Journal, and is reproduced right here below license
Phrases by Ben Boyle | Photos by Iron & Air
Trending Merchandise
