chal•lenge

(chal’enj) n. anything that calls for special effort

Copyright © 2023 by Bill James at The Shovel Shop, Austin, Texas. Photograph of Jane Strand (above) © 1988, 2023 by Bill James at The Shovel Shop, Austin, Texas.

What would you do if life – an accident or illness or hereditary condition – stopped you from doing the thing you most enjoy?

Paul aboard his custom shovelhead trike, as it appeared in Easyriders in January, 1985.

I initially got interested in adapting motorcycles for use by riders with physical disabilities in the early ’80s, when I helped design and construct a shovelhead-powered trike for a military veteran who’d been paralyzed in a motorcycle wreck.  Paul (seen in photo above) was classified as quadriplegic, which, FYI, does not necessarily mean a person is paralyzed from the neck down, as I’d always assumed.  Rather, it simply means the normal functions of all four limbs are affected by the injury or condition.  In Paul’s case, that meant he had no use of his legs, and while his right arm was almost fully functional, his left had only limited strength and range of motion.  He could make a partial fist – enough to operate a hand clutch and help steer a motorcycle – but couldn’t operate a jockey shift or brake lever.

Now, bear in mind that in the 1980s none of the well-known motorcycle manufacturers were producing three-wheeled motorcycles.  Harley-Davidson still offered sidecars, but the Motor Company’s venerable Servi-Car (popular with police and fire departments, delivery services and automotive repair shops) ended its forty-one-year run in 1973, and no one was rushing to fill that slot.

As an aside: circa 1982, Honda reportedly produced a prototype three-wheeler based on their CX500 – an estimated 250 units overall – for U.S. Police Departments.  I have a distinct (and very pleasant memory) of seeing a female Austin Police Department officer in full moto-cop regalia, including knee boots and leather jacket, blasting through downtown traffic on one such prototype with her long blonde hair streaming behind her.  😍  Unfortunately, the bikes didn’t make the cut and never went into full production, and I never saw my jackbooted goddess again. 🥺😢😭

Anyhoo, as I was saying….

No one was cranking out three-wheeled motorcycles back then, and aside from some knucklehead-powered prototypes constructed at the onset of World War II, the Motor Company had never produced a Big Twin trike.  That meant virtually everything we needed to make Paul’s bike function as required had to be designed and created in-house.

The chassis consisted of an OEM early shovelhead swingarm frame grafted to a rigid Servi-Car rear section.  It had originally been built for a local biker who was shot in the leg by an off-duty APD officer during a traffic confrontation on Guadalupe Street, near the entrance to the Austin State Hospital.  The cop claimed he was in fear for his life, naturally, and walked away without consequence.  Meanwhile, the unarmed and now disabled biker was left to fend for himself, and put together the three-wheeler. 

After a while, Rod assumed he was healed up enough to get back on two wheels, so my boss at the motorcycle shop got the trike frame.  Unfortunately, Rod wasn’t as healed as he thought he was, because shortly after getting back on his panhead he tipped his bike over while trying to park it in a grassy area pocked with hillocks and treacherous low spots.  When he tried to catch himself his right (injured) leg gave way, putting him right back on the disabled list.  

However, by then we were already well into the construction of Paul’s trike.

The Easyriders spread from January, 1985, seen below, shows the details of Paul’s unique trike:  crossover shifter mechanism, linked front and rear brakes, custom floorboards, et cetera.  What the magazine doesn’t show is that, while we got the trike running and dialed in, and fine-tuned the hand-controls and other adaptations, Paul was bartering with the shop’s owner, trading custom paint and bodywork to cover the costs of the build.  Paul was a gifted body man, and I was very proud to run the tins he’d shaped and painted for me during that time.

1980: My 1974 shovelhead, recently transplanted into this OEM 1954 wishbone frame, sports tanks and fenders shaped (where needed) and painted by Paul.  This was the first frame-off rebuild I’d ever done, and I remain very proud of the finished project!  A lot of people who looked askance at my choice of colors when the painted tins were hanging on the wall in my shop area admitted I’d chosen well, and created a striking custom build.

Once we got the trike dialed in, while it was still all bare metal and grey primer, we turned it over to Paul, who soon returned to his home in Massachusetts.  There, he took the bike apart and detailed the thing, putting his expertise and artistry as a body man to work, and doing much of the physical labor himself.  Paul built an extended platform behind the pogo-stick saddle to hold his wheelchair, and the custom-built ultralight wheelchair itself.  He also cleaned up the rough metal we’d used to fashion some of his controls, added a lot of gold and chrome plating, and painted the machine a rich ebony black with striped accents on the frame.  Aside from the unique aspects of its construction, the machine was a beautiful custom motorcycle, deserving of its place in the pages of the world’s most widely-read biker magazine.

By the time we completed Paul’s trike, I had become fascinated with the process of modifying motorcycles for use by handicapped riders, and enamored of the spirit and ingenuity that went into each adaptation.  I began clipping articles from newspapers and magazines – anything referencing handicapped riders or drivers – and adverts and announcements about new parts that looked as if they might prove useful in adaptations.  I photographed adapted bikes wherever I found them, and spoke to the riders if possible.  

Over time, I accumulated a hefty file of information in those pre-internet days, and acted as a clearinghouse for that info.  Primarily through Letters to the Editors columns of motorcycle magazines I made that information available free of charge to any and all takers.

Early 1988: Jane Strand on the shovelhead trike she and her husband, Rick Strand, designed and constructed. Jane was paralyzed when a teenaged red-light-runner struck the couple as they rode Rick’s flathead through downtown Austin. I featured their bike in the article I wrote for Road Rider. Rick and Jane went on to found a custom motorcycle shop in South Dakota, specializing in adaptations for handicapped riders. However, just now, when I went looking for the shop’s contact info, I learned that Rick passed away several years ago. Sorry to say, I don’t know what happened to Jane.

I’d written for newspapers and magazines for several years, so it was a natural progression to take what I’d learned and create a feature-length magazine article.  I shopped the idea around, and Road Rider (later reconfigured as Motorcycle Consumer News) gave me the commission.  I did the research, conducted my interviews, took the photographs, and my piece appeared in Road Rider‘s November 1988 issue.  I didn’t even know it had come out until someone at a motorcycle rights organization meeting asked for my autograph! 🙄

October, 1988:  My friend Tina and I, as I sign my first (and last, so far) autograph on my just-released article about adapting motorcycles for use by handicapped riders.  We were at Frank’s Lakeview Inn on Lake Belton, Texas, to attend a Texas Motorcycle Roadriders Association meeting.

Times have changed drastically since that article appeared.  By the late ‘90s aftermarket manufacturers had begun releasing bolt-on trike kits, and now offer assemblies for almost every motorcycle marque on the road.  In 2009, Harley-Davidson began marketing its own line of Big Twin trikes with a wide range of options.  Aftermarket trike frames are also available, as are helpful add-ons like electronic shifter mechanisms, and reverse drive units for those who can’t back their bikes out of parking spaces.  Meanwhile, the Can-Am Spyder and Polaris Slingshot offer something other than the traditional trike configuration, if you’re into that sort of thing.

Just in time, too, as the perennially playful Baby Boom ages into the need for three-wheelers!  😆

Okay, so, on to the article:

Here is the Easyriders article about Paul and his trike:

And another piece, from Easyriders’ March 1979 issue:

So, what’s this got to do with me? More at the link below. ‘Til then, sláinte! 😎

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, SWEETHEART!

When I was maybe seven or eight the boy next door came home from college on a toaster-tank BMW, and was giving the neighbor kids rides around the block. I begged and pleaded with my Mom – ‘PleaseI’llbecarefulI’llhangontightPleasecanIgoCanIgoPleaseI’llbecarefulPlease….’ – until she finally gave in. Yay! 😁👍

Gene and I were halfway around the block when I got this thought, like a crystal-clear voice in my head, that said ‘I’m going to HAVE one of these someday!’ The moment was so profound that, forty years later, I was able to take my wife to that exact spot and say ‘There! That’s where it all began!’ 🤷‍♀️

Right about there is where that lightning bolt inspiration struck me!

We were not allowed to have motorcycles when we were kids; not even minibikes, which were all the rage at the time. The closest I got to the chopper of my dreams was some plastic modelling kits and a Sting-Ray bicycle.

Not my Sting-Ray – this one is listed on eBay for $1200 😳 – but this is the color and year I had.

Of course, on the sly I rode anything with a motor – minibike, moped, dirtbike, whatever – whenever anyone was dumb enough to let me, but that wasn’t often. We lived in a ‘nice’ suburban town, and actual bikers were hard to find. The boy next door and Steve down the street, who had a BSA, were the only people I knew with real motorcycles, and they were never dumb enough to let me near the controls! 😆

As noted in previous posts, I spent my teen years drinking and drugging – a lot and very badly – and it wasn’t until I put all that aside, at the age of 21, that I could get serious about putting together the money for my first motorcycle. It took a year of sobriety to clean up my rather messy financial history, and working two jobs while going to school full-time on the GI Bill, but I finally got together the down-payment. With that in hand I got the nod from the credit union to begin shopping. Yay again! 😁👍

I toddled off to the Harley-Davidson dealership – I already knew I wanted a Harley – but the guy there was such a jackass that I turned around and walked out. Smart move, because half a block up the street I saw a Harley for sale in a used car lot. It was black, low, lean and mean, one of the prettiest things I’d ever seen, and looked like it might be everything I ever wanted.

I could not have been more right.

I called this biker I’d met in sobriety – a lawyer, of all things, who built choppers! – and asked him to come look at the bike with me. He came down and we went over the bike together. It was a 1974 Harley-Davidson Superglide FX with a 74 cubic inch shovelhead motor, a kickstarter (no electric start then or now) and disc brakes fore and aft. After he took it for a test ride (I did not yet have my motorcycle license) Wayne gave it the thumbs-up, and the deal was done. I completed the paperwork at the credit union, conveniently located just around the corner from the used-car lot, and spent a near-sleepless night as keyed up as a kid at Christmas.

The next day – April 11th, 1979 – I threw my leg over my very first Harley for the very first time. That’s right: Forty-four years ago today I answered the call I heard that long-ago afternoon, on the back of Gene Graf’s BMW. After years of wishing and wanting and dreaming about it, I finally had me one of those things! 😎

April 11, 1979, at Northwest Hills Texaco, where I worked at the time.

And forty-four years later, I still have that same motorcycle. I’ve had a few others along the way, but that one is my ride-or-die keeper. She (for she is a girl, make no mistake) is no longer black, and not as low or quite as lean as she was (neither am I, for that matter 😏 ) but she is still the prettiest thing I have ever seen. She’s still gorgeous, and righteous, and I still love her dearly.

Sad to say, a series of unfortunate events (primarily a disabling on-the-job accident) have kept me off my one true love (machine division) for several years, but I still harbor a hope that we may still find a way to be together again.

However, in the meanwhile, and with the support of my one true love (human division) I have secured a different bike, better suited to my disabilities. She’s big and fat and shiny and loud, and so new-fangled and complicated I dare not touch most of her more intimate components, but I’ve already had my hands on her, a little bit, doing little fix-its and adjustments, and once that happens love is sure to follow. She’ll never displace my shovelhead – seriously, what could? – but I have a good feeling about her. 🥰

My new-to-me 2016 Harley-Davidson Freewheeler. Now all I have to do is unlearn forty-four years of training, practice and instinct I’ve accumulated riding a two-wheeler, and learn the proper handling of a three-wheeler. For those who don’t know: it’s a very different style of riding!

So, Happy Anniversary to my 1974 Harley-Davidson FX – my beloved shovelhead – and thank you, thank you, thank you for all the years of joy and adventure you brought me. Let’s go for forty-four more, eh? 😁

Yes, sir, that’s my baby. No, sir, I don’t mean ‘maybe.’ Yes, sir, that’s my baby now!

And don’t you go getting jealous of the new kid. She’s just here to help. 😏