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About two months ago, I recieved an invitation to show a bike at the New York Yacht club's annual Concours car and boat show. I threw it out. A few weeks ago one of the members that was organizing it found my shop and approached me again. He saw two bikes that were in the shop, a 1928 OHV Indian Prince bobber that I was just finishing off and an unrestored Prince racer that I had in to help me figure out some final details.
He talked me into bringing both bikes. I figured I might get a few free drinks. As it had been raining, the machines were put in a carriage house before they were put in the huge tent alongside Harbourcourt, the mansion next to the harbor in Newport RI which is the clubhouse for the yachtclub. I dropped off the bobber Saturday morning and left for a couple of hours to do the things us working types must do on Saturdays, such as go to the dump and get supplies.
When I returned, the bobber had been moved. Some people were admiring the bikes and I asked who moved it. They said one of the members that had brought five of his incredibly restored Mercedes Benz cars moved it. As I walked closer, I could see the drag marks from the tires. Then I saw that the seat pan had been bent and the leather was buckled. Then I found the big chunk of paint missing on the handlebars from somebody's ring. That idiot and his friend picked it up and dragged it. My first feeling was total shock and and a feeling of being desecrated. The room got real quiet as I expressed my shock and disbelief that somebody, especially somebody with such finely restored machines would even think of doing such a thing and not even say anything after committing such a foul deed.
I walked out and tried to calm down. A few minutes later I returned and one of the members approached me and told me that everybody felt terrible about it and the perpetrator was a self centered jerk. They asked me not to talk about it and not to talk to guy who did it, as not to create a scene. He said to fix it and give him the bill and he would take care of it. Meanwhile, thoughts of carving my initials on the fender of one of his cars was going through my mind.
I honored his request and pretended it never happened. Later in the day the rain stopped and they asked if I could ride the bike up and display it in the tent. As I rode up, everybody gave a standing ovation and the Commadore came up and shook my hand and congratulated me on the restoration. Everybody knew what happened.
At the end of the day, they had an awards presentation. Of course the Mercedes owner got many ribbons, and people clapped very quietly. The last award was for the motorcycles and the award giver gave a short speech on how happy everybody was to be able to see the machines I had brought and they gave me a ribbon for the bobber. Everybody cheered and clapped. As I walked away, totally embarassed, they said there was a trophy for the racer, as all loved it and had never seen anything like it. I am certain they went out and bought that trophy that afternoon because they felt so bad.
In the end it worked out that everybody showed they cared and were happy to have me there. I never did get a free drink, though.
He talked me into bringing both bikes. I figured I might get a few free drinks. As it had been raining, the machines were put in a carriage house before they were put in the huge tent alongside Harbourcourt, the mansion next to the harbor in Newport RI which is the clubhouse for the yachtclub. I dropped off the bobber Saturday morning and left for a couple of hours to do the things us working types must do on Saturdays, such as go to the dump and get supplies.
When I returned, the bobber had been moved. Some people were admiring the bikes and I asked who moved it. They said one of the members that had brought five of his incredibly restored Mercedes Benz cars moved it. As I walked closer, I could see the drag marks from the tires. Then I saw that the seat pan had been bent and the leather was buckled. Then I found the big chunk of paint missing on the handlebars from somebody's ring. That idiot and his friend picked it up and dragged it. My first feeling was total shock and and a feeling of being desecrated. The room got real quiet as I expressed my shock and disbelief that somebody, especially somebody with such finely restored machines would even think of doing such a thing and not even say anything after committing such a foul deed.
I walked out and tried to calm down. A few minutes later I returned and one of the members approached me and told me that everybody felt terrible about it and the perpetrator was a self centered jerk. They asked me not to talk about it and not to talk to guy who did it, as not to create a scene. He said to fix it and give him the bill and he would take care of it. Meanwhile, thoughts of carving my initials on the fender of one of his cars was going through my mind.
I honored his request and pretended it never happened. Later in the day the rain stopped and they asked if I could ride the bike up and display it in the tent. As I rode up, everybody gave a standing ovation and the Commadore came up and shook my hand and congratulated me on the restoration. Everybody knew what happened.
At the end of the day, they had an awards presentation. Of course the Mercedes owner got many ribbons, and people clapped very quietly. The last award was for the motorcycles and the award giver gave a short speech on how happy everybody was to be able to see the machines I had brought and they gave me a ribbon for the bobber. Everybody cheered and clapped. As I walked away, totally embarassed, they said there was a trophy for the racer, as all loved it and had never seen anything like it. I am certain they went out and bought that trophy that afternoon because they felt so bad.
In the end it worked out that everybody showed they cared and were happy to have me there. I never did get a free drink, though.
Hrdly
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