Sixty Years of Motorcycling
Sixty Years Of Motorcycling
HOWARD W. CARLSON
JULIUS KEGEL of Freeport, Ill., thought about giving up motorcycling because he was getting too old-that was in 1939. He turned 81 on September 16th, 1972, but he never did get around to giving up bikes. Instead, life just seemed to get more interesting. For openers, his 1971 motorcycling included: An European tour of 10 countries, the Black Hills Gypsy Tour, and a round trip from Freeport to Orlando, Fla. During a recent 3-month period he put in over 9000 miles, not counting local daily jaunts.
Julius Kegel might just be the oldest serious motorcyclist in the world. BMW thinks so, and in May 1970 gave him an award in Germany for being the oldest active rider of its machines. From time to time Julius has heard of possibly older people who occasionally ride a motorcycle. He knows of none, however, putting on his kind of regular mileage or thriving on the long-distance diet. The only close competitor is Julius’s young friend, 75-year-old Court Field of Houston, Texas. If there is someone older than Julius who is still doing a lot of riding, Julius would like to hear from him, because he is always looking for new riding partners.
For Julius, it all started back in 1910 when he took a ride on a friend’s Indian. The motorcycling bug bit hard and he became a throttle-twister for life. At that time Julius and his two brothers were operating a bicycle shop in Freeport, a small community in northwestern Illinois where rolling hills challenge the motorcyclist’s soul. He convinced his brothers that motorcycles might just fit into the business. In 1911 they became dealers for Pope Motorcycles. Julius bought the first unit for his personal machine. It was serial number 21, and if the machine were still around, there would be more than one collector ready to grab it.
In the early years, the Kegel Shop carried Harley-Davidson, Excelsior, Pierce Arrow and Racecycle machines. I asked Julius what the typical motorcycle buyer was like in those early days. As he put it, “This was before the Honda generation and money was hard to come by, so consequently the average buyer was somewhat older.” Usually the buyer was out of school and working, but, Julius adds, they bought bikes for the same reason that we do todayenjoyment.
Once exposed to motorcycles, it wasn’t long before Julius and his brother, Joe, took up flat track racing. They competed around the Midwest for about a dozen years, with time out for World War I. Joe campaigned a HarleyDavidson, while Julius ran an Excelsior. In addition to the county fair circuit, they ran in the Milwaukee 100 and the Springfield (I11.) 100. These events attracted top riders and factory sponsored machines, which put the Kegel brothers in about the same position that independents endure today. But the Kegels enjoyed the challenge of budget racing.
Some of the big names that Julius can remember riding against were Ralph Hepburn, Jim Davis, the Gaudy brothers, and a speedster remembered only as Crutherston. One of the big disappointments for Julius occurred during an early running of the Milwaukee 100. Through a process of attrition, many of the top riders had been wiped out. Joe Kegel was in 3rd and Julius was running a strong 5th. After completing 89 miles of the 100-mile event, Julius got a “Did Not Finish” when an engine sprocket key sheared, while Joe went on to finish 3rd. It must have taken some canny mechanics to get those early machines ready for a 100-mile dirt track event when one considers the high number of DNFs today in even shorter races with much more sophisticated equipment.
When America entered World War I in 1917, Julius felt it his duty to enlist in the Army. He was first assigned to a supply company as a muleskinner, but was soon transferred to brigade headquarters as a motorcycle rider when his past skills became known. He eventually wound up in England riding a British Rover with a sidecar attached to the left side rather than the right. This took a bit of getting used to, especially on a narrow road with another American driver coming the other way! For a man with a love of motorcycles, what better way to serve a hitch in the Army?
When the war was over, Julius returned to Freeport and the cycle business. He soon ventured into a new business opportunity, in addition to keeping up his partnership in the shop. He bought eight new Harley-Davidsons, equipped with sidecars, and contracted to haul mail and newspapers to the outlying communities. Julius rounded up some hardy riders and went into business. There were no hostile Indians, but some of the exploits of these men rivaled the heroics of the pony express rider in their dedication to get the mail through. A leather suit so frozen that a man could crawl out of it and leave it sitting statue-like in the saddle was fairly common. This operation continued until 1935 when Julius finally sold the machines to the individual riders so that he could concentrate full time on the cycle shop.
Julius continued in the motorcycle business until 1961. He was then 70 years old and ready to retire. He had lost his wife three years before and both of his brothers had been killed in accidents. A less hardy individual might have given up interest in life and settled for a fireplace and a rocking chair. But not Julius. He found that retirement offered him the opportunity to pursue his favorite hobby full-time, motorcycle touring. In 1961 he made his first tour of Europe, and has returned to tour every year since. Another annual event has become Speed Week at Daytona, not to mention his yearly participation in the Black Hills Gypsy Tour since its inception 26 years ago.
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Over the years Julius has met a lot of people through his motorcycle activities. His mail box is always full of letters from friends around the world. There are constant invitations to come touring from all over the country. In fact, he would probably like nothing better than to spend a year doing just that.
Not too many years ago Julius noted an ad in a motorcycle magazine from a man in Mansfield, Ohio, who was looking for partners to ride to Central America. Julius signed up and plans were laid to meet in Houston. However, on the way down from Freeport, he suffered one of his few road accidents and spent the next several months in a hospital. Reluctantly, the rest of the party went on without him. The riders abandoned the effort midway through Mexico. In a later conversation with the group, Julius told them that if he had been along he never would have let them turn back. “I know what punishment good bikes can take,” he said. “And riders,” he added.
One of Julius’ contemporaries and good friend was Floyd Clymer, who died not too many years ago. Clymer was probably the publisher of more manuals, articles, and books about motorcycling than anyone in America. He was also known for his attempt to keep the Indian name alive with Enfield and Velocette-powered Indians. About the only thing that they may have disagreed on was their loyalty to brand names. Clymer was, of course, an Indian fan while Julius considered himself a herald for Harley-Davidson. During Julius’s long stay in the hospital, Clymer kept him well supplied with reading material. Floyd’s only request was that Julius pass the motorcycling material around the hospital so that more people could be introduced to the sport.
If you ask Julius what the secret is to his vigor and youthful appearance, he admits that motorcycles must have something to do with it. “It has given me something to look forward to every day,” he says. There has always been another road that he wanted to explore or a new place to savor, an old friend to revisit. Some people are 81 years old. Julius is 81 years young in the truest sense.
