How Troy B Gets an Invitation
Joe Michaud, a local writer who occasionally
contributes stories for the San Diego Union Tribune, wrote a piece on Mike
Hailwood for the paper's Wheels section. The first part of the story
talked about Hailwood's career and then it segued into the MH900e and on
Bob Welsh's tale of purchasing one only to get it stolen with 44
miles on it...from his own driveway...on Christmas eve. The unfortunate owner reversed his fortune as he acquired
another MH which, to date, remains unstolen.
The newspaper story coincided with "Motorcycles in the Park," a month-long event
where dozens of motorcycles are on display at the Automotive Museum in
Balboa Park. Although the museum does have a few motorcycles permanently
on display, the bulk of the floor is normally devoted to four wheels. For
the time period of January 29th through February 23rd, they made many of
the cars disappear so bikes could be featured. Joe, who also helped
organize the motorcycle show, asked Bob if he'd loan his bike to the museum for
the show, but the answer was "no" since Bob had already painfully parted
with one MH. Joe then asked if I'd be willing to loan my bike for the show
and without hesitation the answer was "yes," as it gave me a great excuse
to rescue TB from his lonely days of sitting at the welder's shop waiting
for a new tank. In all that time TB had not been properly appreciated and now
was his chance to turn some heads again.
Returning to His Glory Days
 Chris brought the bike home and even though TB had sat idle in the
shop under a bedsheet, he was dirty. He was never cleaned after his last
trip out into the world so the road grime and bee carcasses were coated
over by the particles carried in whatever miasma that welders emit.
I was mentally sputtering over
the prospect of trying to get the bike into showroom shape, so I decided
to break down the cleaning into a two-stage, two-day project. On the first
day I went over the entire bike and did the high level cleaning with the
bucket and rags. Then on the second day I used a lanolin-based handcleaner
and a toothbrush to painfully detail it. TB looked incredible after I was
done with him.
The Paperwork, or Mostly Lack of
I emailed the exhibits manager
about what needed to be done and he emailed me a one-page fact sheet to
fill out. I filled it out with a couple of details missing, which I said
I'd get to him when I found out what they were. I'll tell you later on why
you don't fax something with missing information.
The exhibitors were given a "load in" date; any time
during the hours of 8 to 4 on that day we could drop off the bike. I think
we showed up around noon and unloaded TB from the van. A couple of guys
came over to greet us and one turned out to be Joe,
whom I had known online for many years, but had never actually met. We
rolled the bike into an entryway area and TB had a "mugshot" taken before
he was rolled into the showroom.
On our way out I filled out a sheet indicating which bike I had dropped off and
that was it. I was a little surprised by the lack of legal-type paperwork,
like "Zina Kelley (the 'Loaner') does hereby agree to put into temporary
possession XYZ motorcycle to Museum (the 'Loanee') and Loaner will
indemnify Loanee from incidental force majeure herein and wheretofore not
excluding but inclusive of..." I think you know what I mean. Frankly, it
was refreshing. It was a gentleman's agreement that I'll loan them my bike
and they'll take care of it.
Gather Around the Crackers and Cheeseball
 About a week after we
dropped off the bike they had a private reception for the people who
loaned bikes for the show. I guess having bikes that you can loan is not
really a young person's thing, as most of the attendees appeared to be on
the northern end of their fifties and sixties (yup, I sure don't remember
having an extra $15k sitting around to blow on a spare bike when I was
twenty-something). Chris and I were a couple of the babies in the crowd,
and we're not exactly the poster children for the Youth of Today.
TB sits at the end of a row, next to an 84 Hailwood Replica. Now about why
you don't leave anything unanswered on the form they give you: On the
information placard they have next to the bike, they listed the top speed
as 115 mph (!). I think bikes back in the 1930s that had square wheels and
coal-fueled engines went faster than that.
Will I Recognize TB When I Get Him Back?
Will he be stripped of
various bits by thieving hands? Or completely covered with peanut butter
by an unruly child with indifferent parents? I'll find out in a couple of
weeks.
And his fate after that? The garage, basement, and race trailer are
stuffed with inventory, of which several pieces need to be sold off. Until
then, the best place for TB will be in the living room. Allowing a bike to
live in the house is a little dangerous, kind of like taking the first
step towards turning into a Crazy Cat Lady who owns 40 of them
hissing-clawing-pooping machines. When the house is filthy with motor oil
and there are more bikes than spouses in the nuptial chamber, I hope
someone will come and talk to us.
As If My Mom Didn't Think I Was Already Irresponsible
I had forgotten exactly what the load out date was so the
other night I got a call from the exhibits coordinator telling me that the
Porsche car show was loading in the next day and that I should come get my
bike. When we showed up the following morning, a few bikes were still
parked here and there waiting for their parents to come get them. One of
the Porsche owners who had just dropped his car off said that he had
recently sold a Ducati and was looking rather misty-eyed at the MH. Troy B
just has that effect on some people.
 As soon as TB got home, we made a space for him in the
living room and there he now sits. There is something about having a bike
parked in your living room that makes you smile every time you walk by it.
Sure, I think it's a pretty bike, but the emotion comes more from knowing
that 90% of the population would think this was whacked. It's parked where
a couch or stereo system or potted plant should go, not where a method of
transportation should be. I guess my priorities are wrong, but if you're a
motorcyclist with The Fever, I know you'll totally disagree with that... |
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