These articles were written by our current president, Norm Kern, several years ago. They tell of his journey from a young kid in the late 1950’s through his early adult life in the 1960’s and how 2-wheeled transportation has played a part in almost everything in his life. I hope you enjoy them as much as I have…Patrick M.
After learning some hard lessons from owning a Norton, I was ready for something smoother and more reliable. I had been seeing ads in Cycle World and Cycle magazine featuring pictures of Danny Liska traveling on a fully loaded BMW in remote places like Africa. At the time, three fellow members of Dayton Motorcycle club rode BeeEms and they all loved them. The father of one member had a 1962 R69 for sale, so I bought it.
The R69 was completely stock except for a small luggage rack and an ugly handlebar mount windshield with a bottom section that had been painted fluorescent orange. It was the antithesis of the Norton. All parts were well designed and built, using top-grade materials. There were no oil leaks, and the opposed twin motor was quiet and smooth. With shaft drive, the bike was very clean and trouble-free. I finally had a motorcycle with automotive reliability. Being an older bike, it did need a few things. I replaced the shock dampers, upgraded the carb float needle valves to a newer type, and relined the drum brakes. Had I found the perfect bike?
The R69 was far from perfect. The small Bing carburetors kept the top speed to about 75mph, but you could leave the throttle wide open all day. The electrical system was six volts, powered by a small generator and battery. The headlight was no more than 35watts even on high beam. Suspension was soft and well controlled but handling with the Earles type leading-link front fork was uninspired. The worst feature of the R69 was the brakes. Relined or not, the hard shoes were not very effective.
My worst braking experience was on a ride where I came down a long, gentle hill and rounded a blind curve at about 40-MPH to discover a T intersection. I had my fiancée on the back, which added weight and made stopping distances longer. I hit the brakes for all I was worth, but I was still headed for the guardrail. Seeing I wasn’t going to make it, I leaned the bike to try to make a left turn. A patch of gravel in the center of the intersection put me down and we spun around as we slid. The bike came to rest just before hitting the guardrail. Both of us came off the bike once it was down. I came to rest on my back with my head underneath the guardrail. Both of us had full leathers on so we were no worse for wear. The R69 had an engine guard so damage to the bike was minimal as well. We were very lucky.
During this time, I was a college student, so motorcycle trips were limited to weekends. The R69’s smoothness and reliability made me see that many of my motorcycling dreams and goals were possible. What were they? I thought automobiles were big, wasteful, and boring. I wanted to see if a motorcycle could replace a car, so I was using my motorcycle for daily transportation. I knew I could ride in the rain. (I had a hunter’s green rubber rain suit that was hot and sticky and was inflated by the wind like a balloon.) Could I brave the cold, even ice and snow? My ultimate dream was the adventure of riding a motorcycle across our large country on long trips. Could the reality ever live up to the excitement of the idea? Before I could answer these questions, I still needed a lot of practical experience. By this time I also had an old dirt bike and had started riding enduros. I was no stranger to bad weather, dirt roads, and muddy paths. I was also young and in good physical shape. I proceeded to ride the R69 all year round, regardless of the weather. I learned it was possible to ride to school or work, even in the snow. (Not very smart or safe, but I was young.)
In September of 1968, my fiancée Patti and I took a weekend trip to northern Michigan to spectate at the Jack Pine Enduro. We camped with The Aultz, who was there to ride the event. Although The Aultz was the one who got me interested in riding enduros, I never understood why HE rode them. Enduros are an average speed contest where you must be on time to win. The Aultz was always late. He didn’t even make it to the Jack Pine starting line on time. We had ridden up there on the R69 and I had on my black leather outfit, which consisted of a racing jacket and pants, plus engineer boots. My helmet was an early Arai silver open face with a flip up shield. I went into the small town at Houghton Lake to buy some beer. I walked into the bar in my full leather outfit and all the conversation stopped. I stepped up to the bar and waited for the bartender. You could hear a pin drop. I told the bartender I wanted a six-pack of beer. His voice was very tense and cracked as he asked for an ID. I had never been in a situation so uncomfortable. It’s not my style to intimidate people, so I just smiled and said, “Sure, which one would you like to see- drivers license or draft card?” Every person in the place simultaneously breathed a loud sigh of relief. I made sure to smile and be as friendly as possible and everyone started talking again.
Outside, I asked someone what was going on. He said that a bunch of outlaw types had just passed through about ten minutes earlier and that it was ugly. I learned a lot about motorcycling that day. We must be careful not to intimidate strangers, who often react to stereotypes or their own experiences with the bad guys. I don’t wear my hair long. I try to stay clean-shaven and well groomed. I don’t wear black leather anymore, choosing bright colored protective gear. Riding a quiet bike doesn’t hurt either. A smile and openly friendly manner are still the best way to disarm the fear and prejudice of others.
We took many weekend trips the next spring. We didn’t have quality saddlebags or proper luggage- there wasn’t much on the market and we couldn’t afford it anyway. The standard luggage was a cheap zippered duffel bag with a plastic trash can liner inside to keep things dry. It was tied onto a luggage rack with bungee cords.
One weekend Patti and I were going on a trip with The Aultz and his girlfriend Linda. They were both down on the floor of the living room trying to get the overstuffed duffel bag zipped. Linda was straining to pull the sides together while the Aultz zipped. After struggling for a couple of minutes, the Aultz got up, held the tightly packed duffel, and proudly proclaimed, “A blivet!” For those of you who don’t know, a blivet is defined as three pounds of you-know-what in a two pound bag. The Aultz then went to his room and returned with the duffel under one arm and his tent under the other. He was wearing an old shirt that was about two sizes too small. The buttons on the shirt were straining. Brad, his roommate who was sitting there with us, proclaimed “Look! Two blivets carrying a tent!” Even the Aultz didn’t have a comeback for that one.
The summer of 1969 was the big event. Patti and I were getting married on July 5. The Aultz was my best man. The rehearsal got off to a rocky start because the Aultz was late. When he showed up, he was still dressed in an old T-shirt and his engineer boots. It was the first time my future in-laws had ever seen him. I will never forget the moment when the best man is supposed to produce the ring. The Aultz said, “Oh yeah, this is where I say ‘Hey Norm, guess what I forgot!’” He then rummaged around in his pockets while the minister and everyone else stood there in disbelief. Suddenly, he pulled something out of his pocket and proudly proclaimed, “Here’s a washer off a Honda Super 90 that will probably work!” Several of my other friends in the wedding party burst out laughing, followed shortly by everyone else. That evening, the Aultz continued in rare form and was the hit of the rehearsal dinner. The wedding came off pretty well, my bride tossed her bouquet, and we left the reception on the R69. The wedding was in Cleveland, so the first stop was our apartment in Dayton where we would spend our wedding night. It had been stormy that weekend and a tornado had passed through Cleveland. Near Jamestown, Ohio, on Route 35, we encountered high winds. Spotting a barn with an open door, we headed for cover. The farmer saw us go in and came out to check on us. He invited us to come inside until the storm blew over. We had a nice visit, then finished the ride home to our apartment.
The next day we started our honeymoon- our first real motorcycle trip. We had too much luggage because we were trying to use suitcases we got for a wedding present. They were wrapped in canvas and tied on the sides of the bike with long nylon straps. Our tent and sleeping bags were across the back. All that weight caused the R69 to wobble badly between 35 and 40 miles per hour. We headed for Kentucky and the Smokey Mountains to get to our real destination- the Blue Ridge Parkway. I-75 had numerous unfinished sections at the time, so we were riding US Route 25 in Kentucky. About 10 miles north of Corbin, we hit a rainstorm and got soaked, so we got a motel room and dried out over night.
In the morning, I discovered the rear tire was very low. The nearest motorcycle dealer was in Corbin, so I filled the tire and headed there. There was a big traffic jam, so I rode the shoulder to save time. I found the shop, bought two tubes and started fixing the tire. I had just replaced that tire a few weeks earlier. When I finished, I couldn’t find one of my tire irons. Guess what? The missing tire iron was inside the tire! I put duct tape over the bruise on the inside of the tire, put in the new tube, and I was on my way. We made it to the Blue Ridge Parkway, but in Virginia, the tire went flat again. I didn’t have a pump, so I had to hitch a ride to a gas station. It had also rained every day. At that point, we decided to head for home. We got off the parkway and made our way back to Dayton through eastern Kentucky. After riding all night, we got home early the next morning. This was not the way to enjoy a motorcycle trip, but we’ll get it right.
Find out how next time.
Let’s look at the lessons learned this time:
1. If you put a small enough carburetor on any engine, it will probably be reliable.
(The Norton needed a moped carburetor.)
2. Don’t try to use a tire that’s been compromised in any way.
3. Don’t leave home without a tire pump, tools, and a spare tube or plug kit.
4. Smoothness, reliability, and shaft drive are important to me. BUT
5. I still want a bike that handles.
6. There’s no substitute for good brakes or the skill to use them.
7. The R69 is not big or powerful enough for two-up touring with luggage.
8. The luggage system must attach & detach easily and keep contents dry,
which mine did not.
9. Always make the effort to be friendly and non-threatening to strangers.
10. If you’re thinking about taking your honeymoon on a motorcycle, think carefully.
The honeymoon might be over before you know it.