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Thread: Vintage Pics of the Day

  1. #8461
    Join Date
    Sep 2009
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    Missouri City, Texas
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    10,679

  2. #8462
    Join Date
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  3. Re: Vintage Pics of the Day

    Wish I had been on Gilligans Isle for a bit...........

  4. #8464
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    PA NORTH OF PHILLY
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    Re: Vintage Pics of the Day











  5. #8465

    Re: Vintage Pics of the Day

    57-58 servi-car I got that out of a barn in Wis. Along with three other ones.

    "Never wake up a Dummy, let him sleep. He might wake up and hurt himself." my good friend, John Fitzgerald (Southside Chicago)

  6. #8466
    Join Date
    Jan 2014
    Location
    Bethesda, Ohio
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    349

    Re: Vintage Pics of the Day

    Quote Originally Posted by BNSONS View Post
    57-58 servi-car I got that out of a barn in Wis. Along with three other ones.

    I Really Wish That We Had A "LIKE" Button, Cause I Really Dig That Ol' Servi-Car Box. I Have A Chicago PD Servi-Car Rear Axle That I Bought From Throttle Masters In Chicago Back In 1994 If Anybody Wants To Buy One. It's A Hydraulic Brake Job...
    98 FLSTC TRIKE
    60 VW TRIKE-HOMEMADE
    68 TRIUMPH 650 TIGER CHOPPER

    You Ain't A Man Till You've Rode A Pan, I'm A Man...

  7. Re: Vintage Pics of the Day

    Wow That hair.


    Quote Originally Posted by Mr. Big View Post

  8. #8468

    Re: Vintage Pics of the Day

    Hers ain't bad either!

  9. #8469
    Join Date
    Jul 2014
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    Western Australia (The Wild West)
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    557

    Re: Vintage Pics of the Day

    Quote Originally Posted by Jerry Wieland View Post
    Wow That hair.
    What about those Mutton Chops!

  10. #8470
    Join Date
    Sep 2009
    Location
    Missouri City, Texas
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    10,679

    Re: Vintage Pics of the Day




    MY FIRST, SECOND AND THIRD MOTORCYCLES
    From the Autobiography of Armando Magri

    After learning how to ride Jeanne’s motorcycle, I wanted to own one of my own. At the age of 14 I purchased a 1921 Harley-Davidson 61 cubic inch JD for six dollars. It was in running condition, with a battery-operated electrical system. The battery, however, was dead, wouldn’t hold a charge.

    A new battery cost $16. So that was out of the question, considering how hard it was to raise the original six dollars. Instead, I removed the battery from by 1922 Chevy, strapped it onto the luggage carrier of my Harley, and hit the road.
    One gorgeous summer day I rode over to visit my friend Carl Howerton. Carl’s sister, Babe, who was my age, started pestering me for a ride.

    We went up to Bidwell Park, over to the five-mile dam, then headed back home. All was going well until we heard a sudden bang, and the rear tire had blown.

    I had no tools, nor mechanic’s knowledge, but just about everyone who had a vehicle in those days also owned tire-patching equipment. It was essential. So, we pushed my bike to a nearby country house and asked for help. With the help of two gentlemen who lived there, Babe and I were on the road again.

    While cruising past Babe’s house and waving to her mother on the front porch, all hell broke loose and the engine came to a sudden stop. The timing gear screws weren’t tight enough, and the vibration caused the whole gear assembly to go flying into the weeds. Babe walked back into her house, and I spent the rest of the afternoon searching n the weeds for my timing gears. I got the bike towed home, and stayed away from motorcycles for a few years.

    In 1931, I bought my second Harley, a 1925 JD for $30. Before long I raised another $30 and had the opportunity to get a third bike, upgrading to a 1927 model. I wanted to make five dollars profit on selling the old JD, but the best deal was from a fellow who offered $30 and five gallons of homemade wine. At a pre-selected time, he would hide a single gallon at a time in the tall weeds that surrounded a row of mailboxes.

    Our friend Leon Ball, who we called “eight-ball,” had a paper route in this neighborhood, so we made him the pick-up man. Most of the rest of us were unemployed, and bored, so we would ride along with Eight-ball on his route. We would pick up the wine, and finish it by the end of his deliveries. It was a bit sad, that day when we picked up the last gallon of wine. It turned out that the guy had been stealing gallons from his own family wine cellar. Still, I considered the whole transaction to have been a profitable one.

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