Restored motorcycle a family treasure
Cherished military Harley still lives to ride four decades later
Murray Pearen, Wheels reader Occupation: Retired electronics technician The Vehicle: 1943 Harley Davidson motorcycle
In 1966, a relative from my hometown of Deloraine, Man., asked if I wanted to buy an old motorcycle he found in a garage. I was 19, bought it for $375 and still have it today.
On a nice March day, I warmed the cold engine in our barn with a space heater, turned the choke on, gave the start arm a few kicks, then turned the ignition on, starting it on the next kick. I shut it off and pushed it out of the barn, as dad cautioned me not to run it inside and scare the cattle and horses. Restarting it outside, I pushed it through the snow to the house yard, climbed on and rode about 1/8th of a mile down the highway and back.
Other than my bicycle, powered by a Briggs & Stratton washing machine engine cousin Graig hooked up four years earlier, it was the first time I ever drove a motorcycle.
That June, I rode the Harley to Bassano, Alta., about 650 miles west, where I worked at the time. It was big and heavy, so I went quite a few miles before finding the courage to lean into the highway’s corners and curves. When a spark plug began fouling up, I stopped at different garages through Saskatchewan to sandblast the plug. In Alberta, I pulled over at intervals and ran back and forth to warm up, as it had become quite chilly before arriving at Bassano around midnight.
My first run-in with the law was the July day the helmet law came into effect. With no place to buy one in Bassano, I thought even if I got caught, I’d be let off. Wrong! I was charged with riding without a helmet and had to pay a fine.
A week later, I moved to Calgary and when my headlight went out one evening, I rode past police officers who had someone stopped, but luckily, they waved me through.
With no driveway at the house where I lived, I’d turn into the drive next door and ride a few feet on the sidewalk to my place. One night, the police spotted me and I was ticketed for driving a motor vehicle on the sidewalk.
Heading to Deloraine for my grandfather’s funeral in 1967, moisture from a Saskatchewan snowstorm caused a spark plug to cease firing, and going slow on one cylinder, I ran out of gas near Swift Current. I flagged down a truck but couldn’t get the bike onto the flat bed, so I left it in the ditch.
In Calgary, someone I worked with called a service station to pick it up with a tow truck. By June, I could afford a U-Haul, and when I got there, the owner was about to sell it as no one had come to claim it.
At Banff National Park’s gates on a 1969 trip with my first wife, I couldn’t shift to first gear when stopped. With the engine running throttled down, my wife riding, I pushed as fast as I could to get it to a first-gear speed. Jumping on and shifting-on-the-go, I got it into second and third by revving to where I would normally shift, quickly back off the throttle shifting at the same time. Not pretty, but it works when a clutch rod’s broken.
In 1972, I disassembled the bike. The engine was overhauled and the paint stripped. Black and silver covered orange that had been put over the original army green. I gave it a custom paint job and chrome and reassembled it in the living room of the basement suite where I lived.
I replaced the single muffler with two separate pipes and mufflers. The original tail lights were small and hard to see military “blackouts,” so I mounted an extra brake/tail light on the rear fender.
On a 1998 Manitoba trip, I visited the relative who sold me the Harley hoping to get some history on the bike, but he couldn’t recall anything about it, even when I showed him pictures. My mother thought it may have belonged to his brother who was in the army, but now we’ll never know.
These days, I’m working on the Harley, replacing oil seals and gaskets, getting it ready for the next riding season. My youngest brother Phil, from Kelowna, B.C., and my oldest son Al, from High River, Alta., and I were thinking of doing a ride next summer — Al on his 2014 Honda Fury, Phil on his 2018 Harley soft tail and me on my antique. I hope we can make it happen. Show us your candy: Got a cool custom or vintage car? Send us your story and high-res pictures (at least 1 MB) of you and your family or friends with your beauty. We like photos — the more the better — of the interior, trim, wheels, emblems. Email wheels@thestar.ca and type “Eye Candy” in the subject line. Google “Toronto Star Eye Candy” to see classic cars featured in the past.