One birthday I received a fancy gift-boxed, Harley – Davidson set, consisting of a black nylon parka and a bottle of French aftershave – a strange combination.

         “I didn’t know you knew I owned a Harley-Davidson motorbike”, I said to my son-in-law, Charles Lambert.

         He was impressed. But if he had seen my bike he might not have been so impressed – it was at least as old as I was. Not too many people have ever bought a Harley for 28 pounds.

         In my second year at Massey College, I had run out of money and decided to carry on my degree part-time. I had managed to get a job at the Seed Testing Station in Palmerston North and I was permitted time off to attend lectures if I made up the time doing weekend duties. I readily agreed – it was a generous offer. I needed rapid transport to get to lectures. That’s why I needed a motorbike and Bruce McSweeney, an old Navy mate, had a bike for sale in Wellington.

         The deal was finalised and I went down from Palmerston North to Wellington to collect this two-cylinder monster. I had never ridden a motorbike before, only a push bike. Bruce said, “By the time you get to Palmerston North you will know how to ride one  – there’s nothing to it.”

         I started with some apprehension. I climbed the steep Ngauranga gorge road in top gear because I didn’t know how to change down to the lower gear. It showed just how powerful the machine was – amazing!

         It was very comfortable to ride. It was well sprung with a bucket seat and long handlebars.

         By the time I made Levin I decided I need to stop for a cup of tea – my usual recipe to reduce stress.

         When it was time to resume my journey I couldn’t get my heavy bike out of the deep gutter.

I tried to get it to start but I was having problems. Ultimately it backfired and a crowd began to gather. Someone pointed out the petrol tank was leaking. I patched it up with chewing gum and drove it out of the gutter to a cheering crowd.

         When I arrived at Massey I was exhausted but I was starting to enjoy the bike. The Harley was much admired by the Pink Hostel fraternity.

         The following weekend David Joblin, a classmate, persuaded me to take him out on the bike wild pig hunting.

         We drove into the back of beyond until the road ended in a dirt track. We set up a camp and went exploring. There were no signs of pigs but we saw signs of rooting – a good sign.

         That night we had heavy rain and our tent leaked. I had made the mistake of putting my ripped sleeping bag covered with tears underneath. Water that entered the tent collected on my ground sheet and was absorbed into my sleeping bag. I had a cold wet night. You remember these mistakes.

         Early next morning we went off hunting. As it was my turn to carry Dave’s .303 rifle I was excited to see a large black pig rooting near the edge of the bush. To my amazement, I dropped her with my first shot. I think Dave was impressed – if he wasn’t,  I certainly was, as it was a long shot.

         Can you imagine us arriving back at the hostel in all our glory on the Harley with Dave on the back with a big pack and a rifle with a large black sow on the handlebars? We received an enthusiastic reception. The cook was delighted and the hostel enjoyed roast pork the next day.

         What did I get out of it? The honour and the glory, and a dose of pig lice!

         Ultimately I sold my Harley to a fellow classmate, Brian Calder. As a replacement, I purchased a new English BSA Bantam. A lightweight noisy two-stroke.

         I missed the Harley on the open roads as it was so comfortable and it had the power when it was needed. The classic British bikes are not made anymore, not in Britain anyway. But the Harley -Davidson has survived as a very expensive cult bike,

         When I see devotees in their black leather jackets go screaming past me I sometimes have a surge of nostalgia. But when it rains and the sleet and snow come I am grateful to be driving my car – and it probably cost less than a new Harley!

Geoffrey Moss(mossassociates.co.nz)

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