In another current thread we were discussing the brotherhood of the 1960s. Most times we glamorize the era. But like any other period in history, real buffs want to know about the day-to-day life of the culture they study. I'd like to do that now. Sort of wipe away the tinsel of that 'long lonesome highway.'

My wife is going to go see her mom, and today is a rest day from the gym (maybe). I have knives to sharpen, and I figured while the house was quite I'd get caught up on chores, one being laundry. I took one whiff of my jeans and realized "it was time." Then I thought about this 'brotherhood' debate.

Whether you like it or not, I'm a real biker from the 1960s. I do as my mentors taught. I was socialized in that period, I have many of the same habits and beliefs. I have most of my "biker crap." And strange as it might sound, my pants are artifacts, you might say the telling fossils of time past.

While we did not us the west coast term "originals" then, this is a good example. Modern Harley jeans are cut more for sitting, and like their jackets appear be cut from better patterns. In the 1960s most jeans came dark blue, and stiff as a board. It took months of washing, rainstorms and outright abuse to make them comfortable. And just about the time they 'felt right,' they ripped. The worst thing about a bar fight was having some drunken townie damage your jeans.

In that manner, check out my current knock around jeans. I know I wore them in 1979, so that makes them date from 1976 or '77. The pockets are ripped and torn, and as you can see, the entire crotch has been replaced.

As I emptied my pockets, I recognized another old mentor admonishment. That is, "If you don't carry it, you won't have it on the road far from home." Look at the arm of the couch.

Now, that's just my "daily winter crap." It's how a era biker gets through the day--when he's not riding. Half of the stuff I use once per month, in fact, I cannot remember the last time I used the SureFire flashlight. Two knives? Well, yeah, a big one and a little one. I just used the little one yesterday to make a toothpick. I carry more stuff just taking the Sportster to the bike shop for coffee.

So here, my friends, is the real aspect of the 1960s. No flashy Peter Fonda bikes. No Bronson beautiful girls at every off-ramp. Just a pair of worn out jeans and pocket full of bric-a-brac. Worn out warnings from voices long since dead and buried. Most of this stuff is the same as I carried in 1969 when I became a "brother."

If you're going to fake the past, do it right.

https://i209.photobucket.com/albums/bb23 ... 01-131.jpg

Guys, I'm not being unsympathetic to folks who really want to get serious about motorcycles. I just think you should live in your own time, in your own era, and quit wearing your grandfather's clothes. Look, I don't wear leather anymore, my ballistic nylon jacket is warmer, lighter, and the 'bar and shield' emblem reflects at night so I can be seen.

Our engines run better, make more BHP, they don't leak, and the mechanics are better trained. Most of us won't get shot at enjoying a Harley. I look at modern times and the bikes with awe.

And yet, I know in my heart that many 'bikers' would sell their own mothers into white slavery to be the boy in this photograph. Careful what you wish for.

https://i209.photobucket.com/albums/bb23 ... 09-1-1.jpg

What year was that taken and how old were you. That is I'm assuming it was you.

Yes, it's me. It was taken about 1970 or 71, because that's the first year the Super Glide came without the big plastic rear seat. The picture was taken outside of the UW Humanities Building when I was a student. It couldn't have been much later than that, because I was still smoking. I can tell by the patches that I was a full member. Just a sec, I'll take a picture of the front of my colors...

There. You can see the patch of Howdy Doody on the left side, and my status of "Pork Patrol" on the right shoulder.

https://i209.photobucket.com/albums/bb23 ... 002-64.jpg

I was just watching a documentary on a club that changed its internal procedures. I was amazed on how it mirrored the structure our founder imposed.

For example, while there was not the rigid definition of "outlaw" at that time, in that era the term meant an organization without an AMA affiliation. You couldn't enter their events, like hill climbs. But the definition was changing.

In the late '60s I think our prez saw the handwriting on the wall. While most clubs all wore the "three patch" design, he wanted us to be a 'good club.' There weren't 'A' states and 'O' states then. The 1% patch was still an informal statement of resistance to authority. And while we had no AMA affiliation, several of our individual members had joined the AMA to compete.

Our founder also had political ambitions. He wanted to take center stage during the helmet repeal movement. That meant a cleaner image. He would not stand for hazing pledges/prospects. We didn't wash our colors, but he wouldn't tolerate urinating on rookie full members, either. He hated thieves and was vehemently opposed to hard drugs, either by sale or use. You didn't dare torch a doobie or carry a firearm in the clubhouse thereby jeopardizing the entire club. And you aren't to hit a fellow member now, I think that's his legacy.

We did charity work. We were good men, just bad little boys. We drank, we drag raced, we chased women, we were routinely over-served. There was a period of truce locally when we rode with The Blue Knights. I was questioned in my own home about two years back on a bogus investigation, so I think the truce is over.

But for five fun filled years I was at Joey's Anchor Inn or later The Wisconsin Inn most every day. I went to college, got good grades, worked on a loading dock every summer, and wore my colors everywhere. In the Humanities Building I was known as "The Rider in Residence." Much like here, I was the clown prince, and a skirt catcher. (Others chased, I caught.)

It was the tail end of 'the golden age,' and I'm glad I got to see it. By 1972 things were recognizably slowing down. In 1979 one of our members was shot and killed by a member of another club, and things never were the same. From the early 1970s on, the mentors slowly left, more and more newbs held office, and the transition to how we live now was in full swing. I went inactive in 1974.

The program I was watching professed that this mentality also involved outlaw clubs. The changes our founder believed in are pretty much the rule now. But I have to tell you, it was one hell of a party.