My Dinner With Super Hunky

"Holly and the Harley" (excerpted from Monkey Butt)

Every April we sat around and racked our skulls to do a different April Fools' story. One year, I came up with the idea of getting a huge Harley full-dresser and testing it like it was an enduro bike.

We called Jim for some feedback: "Hey, Hollywood, do you think you can jump a big full-dresser Harley?"

"Sure. As long as you don't care what happens to it when it lands."

So I called up my connections at Harley, guys I knew from when H-D had real dirt bikes, and ran the idea by them. Fortunately, they had a sense of humor and went for the joke. We thought it was high humor and made all kinds of elaborate plans.

The Hog hit the ground and a horrible clanking sound penetrated the air, as the frame rails hit the ground and forks and shocks bottomed metal-to-metal!

When Paul and I went to pick up the Hog, we were more than a little intimidated by the sheer immensity of the bike. The damned thing was huge and weighed something like 800 pounds, dry. When we rolled it out to the van, we knew this was going to be a handfull.

We lined up the loading ramp and tried to push the Harley up the ramp. It got about two feet up and the aluminum ramp simply buckled in the middle like a safe was dropped on it.

Clearly, this approach was not going to work. One of the Harley guys came out with a steel beam loading ramp and tried to help us. It was too heavy to get up, so two more people were pressed into service to help.

We got it up the ramp, but all the low-hanging parts and the frame hung up on the edge of the van bed. Eventually, after trying a few different approaches, we moved the van back around to a loading dock area and got the bed of the van even with the loading dock platform. Then it was a simple matter to push the beast in and lash it down.

We used a half-dozen tie-downs to play it safe, but as we were driving back to the offices, the bike kept shifting around and threatening to buckle the walls of the van where the tie-downs were hooked.

The next day, we headed for the hills, cameras in hand, and met up with Jim. To get the Harley out of the van, we had to hunt around and find a big hump in the ground and back up to it. It still took four people to get the bike out.

Jim fired up the bike and rode it around, getting the feel of it, and looking for logical spots to jump the bike. Paul and I loaded up a battery of Nikons and nearly dropped them in amazement as we watched Jim pop the huge Harley up into a wheelie on the flat ground.

I was stunned. "How inna hell did you do that, Jim?"

"It's just a bike. You push down on the forks, and when they rebound, you hit the throttle. Then it's just a matter of finding the balance point. Every bike has a balance point. Actually, once you get it up, it stays there real good. Nothing happens real quick. And it's got a good strong motor."

Paul and I exchanged glances. Without saying a word, we shook our heads at the level of skill that Jim had, and that we knew we would never have.

Jim found a nice hump in the ground that would serve as a jump. "Let me take a few easy passes first! Just to get the feel of it."

He hit the hump at about 20 miles per hour and the huge Harley got two feet in the air and sailed about 15 feet long. The landing was surprisingly easy and Jim never even flinched when the metallic brown beast touched the ground.

"No sweat. I can jump this thing a whole lot more. But maybe you guys ought to get your cameras ready, 'cause I can feel things flexing around a lot."

Paul and I got into position and prefocused on where we assumed Jim would get airborne. The Hog rumbled up to the hump and we heard the throttle blip. A micro-second later, the monster launched a good four feet into the air, with Jim standing on the floorboards (no pegs!) like a jockey.The Nikons clicked and whirred, motor drives ripping off six shots a second.

The Hog hit the ground and a horrible clanking sound penetrated the air, as the frame rails hit the ground and forks and shocks bottomed metal-to-metal!

Jim let out a loud "hoo-haw!" yell and circled around for another pass. Paul and I just looked at each other, at a loss for words.

On the next pass, Jim hit the jump much faster and the Hog sailed up into the air. Click, click, whir, whir, went the Nikons. Clang, bang, slam, crunch went the Harley when it blasted into the ground!

One of the saddlebag covers flew off and a few small pieces of chrome fell on the ground.

"Hey, you guys want me to go higher?"

We nodded "yes," and Jim circled around for another pass.

After we had shot two rolls each of film, with breaks in between to duct tape various bits and pieces back on the Harley, we motioned for Jim to park the bike. We knew we had our shots!

Jim flipped the side stand down on the bike, then walked around to gather up the saddle bag tops, a mirror, several chromed goodies, a battery cover and the air filter lid. Amazingly, the wheels were still round and the frame appeared unbent.

When we got the slides back from the lab, Paul and I howled with glee! They were great! We wanted to run one of the shots on the cover, but Roland Hinz refused to even consider that. That was regrettable, in that I feel it would have gone down in history as one of the greatest motorcycle action cover shots of all time.

This was a period of time in Dirt Bike's history where the owner simply did not want to take any chances editorially. Paul and I had to work harder and harder to get around the stifling lack of imagination, and that started to take its toll on us.