My story is fairly common for guys my age. I played around with motorcycles when I was a teenager, but after I got married motorcycles were way down on my priority list.
I was too busy earning a living and raising kids to even think about the risky business of riding a bike.
But once my daughters were older and we could afford more life insurance my interest in motorcycling returned. In 1997 I was given a free 1972 Honda CL350 basket case. I rebuilt the bike, took the motorcycle safety course and I was back on the open road... at 38 years old...
In 1999 I started the Alliance Riding Club for folks I worked with and anybody in the Alliance Airport area who wanted to join us. I chose the nearby Up-N-Smoke BBQ House as our monthly meeting place. I gave Phil, the owner, some of our club patches and told him to recruit anyone he thought would like to join our group. And that's where I met Dave Howe... and the Peckerheads.
Dave joined the Alliance Riders Club and at the same time invited me to hang out with the "Peckerheads" some Friday evening at Up-N-Smoke. By this time I had my 1978 Honda CB750 (known as the Whore at that time) and when I first arrived to visit the Peckerheads I parked it among several vintage British bikes, some BMWs and Ducatis. I felt a little out of place.
Inside Dave introduced me to the Peckerheads in attendance and they sat me at the official Peckerhead table. Frankly, I was intimidated. I had only been back into riding for a couple of years and many of these guys had been riding and racing all of their lives. They were talking about Amal carbs, torque numbers and bikes I had never heard of. I was just a guy with an old Honda trying to catch up on the motorcycle lifestyle.
The Peckerheads were a diverse group made up of everything from airline pilots to construction workers. Some had a lot of money, and some were like me. I found out that the only real rule for being a Peckerhead was to show up on Fridays. No dues, no bylaws, no officers, just beer drinking, cigar smoking and telling lies about motorcycles. Officially the group is known as Peckerhead Motorcycle Racing, but I've never seen them race anything.
About 6:30 everyone settled their tabs, mounted their bikes and roared off to Dave's house and the official Peckerhead club house. Dave had a good sized hobby shop next to his house that over the years had been adapted to host the weekly gatherings. With a picnic table in front, a beer fridge inside and a urinal out back it was the perfect place to suck suds, slap a few backs and get your wife mad at you for staying out too late. Which I did from time to time. Come to think of it, I did it last Friday.
For the next eight years I had a place to go to every Friday evening. I suddenly had a bunch of friends and a bunch of good times. But things change. Although the Peckerheads still gather every Friday, a couple of years ago Dave sold his house and retired to Amarillo. Dave has been busy there corrupting the locals and building another chapter of Peckerhead Motorcycle Racing.
Before Dave left he gave me the official Peckerhead beer fridge. Wow! An honor I never expected. I would be the keeper of THE Peckerhead beer fridge. If only that thing could talk. Humbling. I already had a beer fridge in my garage, but it was on its last legs so it went out to the curb. Every time I grab a beer out of that historic Peckerhead fridge it comes with a memory or two.
Alas, nothing lasts forever. Last week the fridge started to make squealing sounds that signaled that it may not have much longer to live. Somewhat distressing, but all good things come to an end. My wife and I won't repair it. We'll get a new fridge and set the Peckerhead fridge out by the curb when its time comes.
So here's a beer to the Peckerhead fridge and to beer fridges everywhere. God bless 'em every one.
By the way, the Alliance Riders Club didn't last nearly as long as this refrigerator did. Do you have a special fridge just for beer in your garage? I hope it's decorated. Send me a picture of yours.
Oh yah, the reason the '78 Landshark was called the "Whore" was because when I first got it I would work on it so much that when my wife came out to the garage she would say, "I knew you'd be out here with your whore." Seemed like a good name.
Daniel Peirce [trickphotog],
Lord of Light, Master of the Pixel
Grapevine, Texas, USA
