All Biking Communities

I have been riding motorcycles for about 30 years and can only remember a few times that I've run into what I consider to be a really hardcore biker. I am not referring to what most people think of as a 1%'er. I am talking more about a person that can work miracles with a Swiss army knife and a roll of tape, a true MacGyver, a unique character with the instincts, imagination and survival skills to do battle with and prevail against the gremlins that place most of us at the mercy of roadside assistance and the knowledge and expertise of others. I remember one such character in particular.

About 4 years ago, I rode to Faro Bike Rally with a group of friends and our wives. We had a great ride and shared loads of laughs during our 4 day trip. However, this story is not about our ride.

We stopped roughly at the half way mark at Chucena service station in Spain, approx 200K from our destination to refuel and have lunch. In the parking next to our bikes was an ancient Panhead in pieces spread out all over the place. There was an old, rough looking guy sitting on the ground next to the bike. He and the bike looked like they belonged to each other. He was sifting through parts and appeared to be putting the bike back together.

I spoke to him, and we talked for a little while. He told me he went by the name Swing arm (I didn’t ask) and was from nowhere in particular and that he had been riding his bike for the past 10 years, never stopping anywhere long enough to feel that he belonged and just staying long enough to make some money for food, fuel and the odd repair which the old girl may need.

He was on his way to the rally when his bike broke down 3 days earlier and he had been sleeping rough next to his bike for the past couple of nights, He explained that he had built the bike himself, putting it together from scratch using a variety of parts from scrap yards.

The frame was mostly an old Triumph, and everything else was either homemade or Heinz 57 with the exception of the Panhead engine. After breaking down 3 days earlier, he had been going to local shops, digging through their dumpsters and trash piles looking for parts and pieces that he thought would work. He had just made it back to Chucena earlier that afternoon and was now in the process of sorting through the various parts, trying to figure out how to put this stuff together and make it work.
I would have bet a month salary that he would never see Faro on that thing.

Well, we had lunch, gave him a few Euros to help him along the way after a quick whip-round and wished him all the best. Johnny gave him a HDC Gibraltar sticker which Swing arm proudly stuck on the fuel tank next to the barely visible word ‘Harley’. We then left towards our hotel. That night over a few drinks we wondered about Swing arm and how he would be. We knew he had enough money for a couple of meals or a night in a modest hotel but somehow we were sure that he would be sleeping next to his bike with next to nothing to eat,

We never saw Swing arm again but were more than bemused when we saw his bike at the Faro Rally the next morning. I can only assume that he got her put together sometime during the night and rode down.

Now to me, that is a really hardcore biker.