Hoot-N-Holler
Hoot-n-Holler
DAVID EDWARDS
Cycle World's Rolling Concours gains a Southern accent
As STOPLIGHTS GO, THIS ONE WAS A CERTIFIABLE hall-of-famer. Waiting for the green was a 1958 Moto Guzzi Falcone, its laydown Single chuffing away nicely, evidenced by the spinning of its external "bacon slicer" flywheel. Next to it, a classic 1969 BMW R60/2 in ivory white, looking like something a tweedy, pipe-smoking professor
might ride to campus. Happily ring-dinging to the rear was a 1962 Yamaha Catalina 250, living up to its giantkiller press clippings and topped with a striking yin-yang painted gas tank in black-and-white.
All were a few miles into Cycle World's sixth-annual Rolling Concours, part of a 35bike flotilla ocpre 1976 machinery wind ing its way through Tennessee's pic turesque Great Smoky Mountains.
Previously a staple at S Sonomafest, a 10-day festival of bikes based out of Infineon Raceway in Calif rnia's wine country, the kôl~ing * Concours was conceived almost as an anti-show. Not that we're against spit-and-polish, but we noticed a disturbing trend at several big concours events: Year to year, some of~ the same bikes were being trotted out with nary an additian a1 mile being added to their odometers. More than a few were displayed with no gas in their tanks and no oil in their crankcas~es, lest they leak a little and soil the grounds. Even purebreds at the Westminster Dog Show get to poop every now and then...
Last straw was the~ unE~pIfTrophy 650 owner who laid a series of shop towels across a dewy lawn, so that no errant blade of grass would dare attach itself to his original, made-in-England (and rock-hard) Dunlop K70s as he gin gerly pushed the freshly
restored bike to its assigned display slot.
So, under the theory that it's better to see and hear a tatty Trumpet move down the road under its own power rather than watch an un-run 100-pointer being treated like a Renoir-on wheels, CW's Rolling Concours was born. We'd ride for 50 miles through the vineyards around Sonoma before judging the çntranfs, no points deducted for road grime or oil-misted engine p~irts. Trailer queens were not needed, nor invited.
-~ Turned out to be quite the happening. One year we put 110 bikcston the road, everything from f~bu1ous tra~hwag ons held together by rust and good wishes to gettuine muse~ urn pieces-a good mix and lots of smiles all around~
But two years ago, Infineon dropped vin4tage roadracing from The Sonorpafest itinerary. Poor attendance cOuldn't justify eflJ the track for that weekend-our weekend. We were welcome to host the Rolling Concours during the following weet's AMA Superbike races, which we did last year, but it just wasn't a good fit.
Enter the indefatigable Charlie Keller, whose business card reads, “National Manager, Honda Riders Club of America,” but should really say,
“Head Hooter.”
Besides possessing an uncanny ability to produce coffee and Krispy Kremes seemingly from thin air,
Keller is lead man at the Honda Hoot, an annual rally in Knoxville,
Tennessee, that draws upwards of 20,000 attendees. Though sponsored by American Honda, the four-day event (www.hondahoot.com) is non-denominational-all brands welcome-and Charlie thought the inclusion of our Rolling Concours would
nicely underscore that fact.
A chance to ride through the lush greenery of the Appalachians in late June when all of Southern California is a parched brown, ready to explode in wildfires? Sign us up!
Unfortunately, Tennessee was even more verdant than usual this summer thanks to unseasonable downpours. The weather, and little time for advance promotion, had us worried that the Concours might not roll at all. But Saturday morning brought a clearing to the misty gray skies, and one by one the old bikes made it to the registration table. For their $40, entrants got an event T-shirt emblazoned with a custom Don Bradley “Concours d’Oilcgance” illustration, a lakeside BBQ lunch mid-ride and a shot at one of 24 trophies, etched bottles of Sonoma cabernet in a nod to the ride’s California beginnings. This year’s route ran a satisfying 80 miles-more if you followed errant Feature Editor Mark Hoyer out into the countryside.
Poor old Pete Knick brought his 1936 Indian Sport Scout down from Virginia only to have it urp before the lunch stop. Lucky for him, no other American Classics showed up, so he went home with the first-place vino. Second in class went to George Brown’s Triumph coWR^h X-75-hey, bike designer Craig Vetter is American!
We thought Vintage winner Jess Stockwell’s 1950 Vincent Black Shadow looked familiar. In fact, it is Peter Egan’s old bike. Troublesome during Egan’s stewardship, the Vinnie now has a new clutch, fettled carbs and a massaged ignition system, and runs hard without complaint. (No, Peter, it’s not for sale, but we do have Jess’ phone number...) Vincent royalty showed up in the form of marque specialist and classic-bike broker Somer Hooker, riding a fully enclosed Black Knight, which in honor of our hosts was quickly dubbed the “World's First Honda Pacific Coast.” Spirit of the event was captured by Joel Carmack and his well-turned-out Yamaha XS650 chopper, normally non grata at concours, but winner of the Street Specials class here. Scrounging cast-off Harley parts kept costs to a minimum-total outlay is probably less than the deposit required to get on Jesse James’ two-year waiting list. Not exactly Mr.
Goodwrench,
Carmack enlisted the aid of a local mechanic, who had such a good time during the build that he threw away his time sheet and refused to bill at full pop. “I ended up with a good bike and a great friend,” says Joel.
Final special award of the day went to Andy Dclph’s delightfully under-restored Honda 750, which due to its stealthy, unwashed appearance was given the ad-hoc “Best Moonshine Runner” trophyin honor of our new venue, a mason jar full of the locally distilled paint remover.
Next year, we’ll be back at the Hoot with an additional Modern Classics category for bikes up to 1985. Y'all come, hear? □
