Memories of Utrecht and Harley

Today, we, motorcyclists, are still seen by some as a torment. And that while we can be somewhat reckless at best. But we learned that it was all different during the visit of a Really Old motorcyclist who had wasted his youth in the swampy lanes of the Utrecht lowlands.

He was a Harley driver at the time you drove Harley because you had no money

In the sixties you bought a good running 750 cc WL side valve in the Netherlands for amounts around one hundred guilders. And how much is that in euros? Never mind. A Harley was the only affordable transport for ambitious apprentices and students. The hard-core Utrecht motor scene then consisted of a collection of pleasantly organized under the name 'Harley Club Utrecht'.

A trusted habit

Those folks had a pub on the Vrouw Juttestraat as a meeting point and one of the nicest things to do was get off your still driving Harley, run inside and empty your first glass before your engine stopped. If the side valve had remained in the middle of the pavers and a worried motorist pointed this out to the resident of the pub, the pub-goers M / V would all go out to give the motorist a beating.

Endearing, that kind of local customs right?

Friend Alfred dreamed away and enjoyed. He is now a former contractor at rest and has become his mild self. But that has also been different. He was once arrested for being suspicious of everything, but above all for driving under the influence. When the officers saw what they had actually been holding, they immediately became a lot less heroic than when addressing an eleven-year-old girl who had forgotten to put her hand out on her bicycle.

In his youth, Alfred had the massive appearance of a more or less successful cross between a massive prize bull and a moderately irritated Pitbull terrier. If he was expanding and / or narcotics under the influence of various minds, then the Pitbull dominated him.

Now he has become milder and his terrier inspection has disappeared

But all these years it became painful when the agents asked Alfred for his papers. Alfred kept staring at the two uniforms without saying a word. He kicked off the side stand of his Lib and thoughtfully took a few steps toward law enforcement officers. In the late sixties, the predominance of Dutch police officials was also quite corroded.

The two agents were concerned about the developments

Bearing in mind the then promo cry 'The police is your best friend', they hoped the best. The still taciturn Alfred apparently had another policy cry in mind. At the time, the Dutch citizen was called to attention and participation with the slogan "That pet fits you too".

Alfred glanced at a cop and said, "He'll suit you, but won't you at all"

Subsequently, the biker, heavily influenced by alcohol and drugs, took the cap from the agent and threw it into the Singel. Then he looked at the policeman exhorted, shouted: "Search!" And threw him his cap at the back, into the water. In practice, that was only the beginning of the story about a situation that then got out of hand and it is certainly not an incentive to take unthinkable actions under the influence of the most inspiring chemicals. But the whole situation at the time had something comedy-like. Alfred recalled the memory with a mild smile.

He had heard everything even afterwards, after he had been allowed to leave the cell where he had been surprised by his bruises and bruises. Alfred is driving a motorcycle again. One has a recent Harley and a very nice 1200 cc Flathead ("That thing actually has no brakes".) Plus a Suzuki T 500 from 1971.

That was the engine he wanted to have in his student days. But then such a machine was too expensive for him. In the past not everything was better. Some things were very confusing at the time.

Funny: Many of the men from those years - time has harvested a few but the survivors are now all 60+ people who have not all handled their bodies equally carefully - still interact with each other. And they all still ride Harleys and enjoy their memories. Nice is not it?