This is a story told by XLForum member Mosey. It's about a chance meeting that turned into tales of dare and doing.

Mosey relates in his own gripping style the fantastic stories of Ray, a white-bearded motorcycle lover.

The XLForum thread is here: http://xlforum.net/forums/showthread.php?t=1802273

The thread starts on July 25, 2014 (thru June10, 2015). As of January, 2020, it has 85,541 views.

Mosey encouraged others to reveal their own stories encountering older riders with tales to tell.
Click here for the 'Miscellaneous Tales of Meeting Interesting Characters' page for more stories.

In order to be able to link into the middle of the story, it has been (arbitrarily) headered into sections.

Life is short and brutal. Ride free…

I write those words every time I post, it's not a cut and paste kinda thang. I really mean it when I type that life is rather sharply truncated in the perspective of universal time. So y'all better believe me when I write that ya gotta ride free while ya still gots the chance… (Mosey)

A Chat With A Whitebeard

Had the day off so I went to deal with my local banker. I pulled the old Ironhead into the lot, rode to the far corner and parked up in the shade of a large tree. As I pulled off my helmet a soft voice from behind me said, “Damn, that's a nice machine.”

I turned to find a pair of gleaming, dancing eyes above an impish grin that was surrounded by a long, white beard. A fence separated us but, even through the fence, it was easy to spot a fellow motorcyclist. Instant recognition of a kindred soul.

We shot the breeze there for a few minutes, he asked about my Sporty and commented on how nice it is to see an old machine in use. He was more surprised when i told him it was my daily rider. I stuck my hand through the fence and introduced myself as we shook hands. His voice may have been soft and a little shaky, but his grip was solid.

I asked him about what machines he rode and this is where the story gets interesting. Now, just so's y'all know…the fence separates the bank parking lot from an elder/convalescent home, The fella' with the happy eyes and the easy grin musta been close to, or over, the eighty year mark. In spite of the years he had a vital, youthful air about him.

Well, dear reader, when your humble narrator inquired of this two-wheeled veteran as to his favorite steeds he proceeds to tell me, in a very understated way, about his years as a motorsickle racer in the Fifties and Sixties. He tells me about Baja 500s and Mint 500s and Baja 1000s and the Sacramento Mile and Ascot in Gardena and banging elbows in the turns with Dave Aldana and…

Holy crap! This guy is a gold mine of motorsickle lore and legend. We chat for a while about desert racing and sponsors and Triumphs and KHKs and KRs and…well, you get the drift.

I asked him if it would be possible to visit him sometime and talk more about his exploits and experiences. His eyes lit up and he proclaimed that he would look forward to my visit. He promised tales of twisting the wick and roosting the dirt. I am planning on dropping by to say hi to him next week. He said that any of the nurses would point me right to Motorcycle Ray!

I guess I'm relating this day's episode in my life to ya so all y'all remember that ya never know who the stranger next to ya really is…until ya ask. I've heard the Ironhead called “An Old Man Magnet” cuz old dudes walk up to yer bike and say sumpin' like, I used to have one back in the day“. So maybe the next time someone comments on yer bike, you just might take a minute or two and listen to their FTW tales.

I hope to update this thread in a week with more in-depth reporting on Ray's riding days. Maybe even get a pic of Ray with my motorbike if possible. BTW, just before I rode off, he mentioned that he still has quite a few old race bikes. Hmmmmm.

Life is short and brutal. Ride free…
26th July 2014 (http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=4921711)
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For the last couple weeks I haven't been able to get to hang with Ray, but i saw him for a few minutes this morning. The last couple times when i stopped by on my day off, the nurses said that Ray was either getting a procedure or wasn't feeling up to visitors.

But today I stopped off to try and see my new buddy. Lo and behold, as I'm walking up the sidewalk towards the entrance of the assisted living facility, the door opens and out walks Ray! What a pleasant surprise. He's looking sharp and I tell him so. He grins and we chat for a couple minutes.

We arranged to meet up this coming Tuesday. I told him to prepare to tell me all the dirty details of any race that he happened to remember. he laughed through his beard and replied that he remembered EVERY race and EVERY competitor. My answer that I couldn't wait to hear his tales brought a grin to his weathered face.

I think I'm gonna have a good time hangin' with old Ray. His is an indomitable and inspiring spirit.

I'm glad so many of you took the time to read my thread. I only hope that I can accurately relate Rays reminiscences of past racing adventures. He intimated that he's gonna tell me about desert racing in Mexico when we meet up. I can't wait.

Life is short and brutal. Ride free…
16th August 2014 (http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=4942327)
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Well…today was a really bitchin' day!

Not only was the weather awesome - eighty-five degrees after a long stretch of high heat and high humidity. So today, dry and cool, was a genuine corker! After cleaning, lubing and adjusting the chain on the Sporty I went for a little ride up Big Tujunga Canyon. The road was clear and twisty, traffic sparse, and I felt like the King of the World. Screw Leo and the Titanic. Gimme a Sportster any day…I don't need no stinking ship!

So me and the Ironhead had a great time up in the hills above the beautiful San Fernando Valley. After using a tank fulla fuel riding the asphalt and dirt roads, I turned the machine back towards civilization and headed for the best stop of my day.

As I rolled into the assisted-living facility there were several elderly residents sitting out front enjoying the balmy breezes. All eyes watched as I parked up the old motorbike and dismounted. With a wave and a howdy to the watchers, I headed inside.

Ray was sitting in the lobby area, grinning like a demented jack o' lantern at me through that wild, white beard. “Goddamn, it's good to see ya!” he exclaimed and stuck out his big, calloused mitt. We shook hands and I sat down in the proffered chair.

As we chatted, several of Ray's fellow lodgers wandered by and Ray took great care to introduce me as his “motorcycle ridin' friend”, lemme tell ya I felt honored to be named as such. I said hello and shook hands with some real interesting characters. Some of those folks looked like they have lived a full and interesting life. I'll bet there's an enormous wealth of tall tales and life experiences in that one building.

Ray talked a little bit about the times that he raced up Pikes Peak. His descriptions of the events curled my toes and gave me a shiver or two as well. Imagine tearing up that mountain at seventy and eighty miles per on a steep one lane dirt and gravel road that hangs precariously off the side of a precipice and yer sliding sideways. Now realize that there are no guardrails so if you miscalculate, yer going over the side in a rather spectacular fashion. Holy moly. I'm scared just thinkin' about it!

Ray said that his last run at Pike's he did the 13 miles in under 11 minutes. That deserves a tip o' the helmet, eh?

We talked about his years as a service manager at a Honda dealership outside of Portland Oregon and his years working at the Harley-Davidson shop in San Diego. The man got around and did a lot of living, plus he rode a helluva lot of motorcycles! We talked about the Triumphs that he raced and the 1954 Vincent Black Shadow that he loves and still owns. He said he still has a lot of his old race bikes stashed away down in Sandy Eggo.

The old folks started getting up and shuffling off down the hall. Ray said it was time for dinner and his stomach wasn't just growling - it was barkin' and howlin'! We said our adios and shook hands again. We made our plans to hang out again. I gathered up my helmet and gloves, gave old Ray a grin and started for the door.

“Hold on a minute.” he said and I turned around and went back. With a twinkle in his eyes he said, “Next time I'm gonna tell you about racing K-models on dirt tracks.”

Now I've got sumpin' to look forward to. Later days, faithful reader. I shall return with more two-wheeled tales as related by my new best friend. Thanks for being so damned cool, Ray. I owe ya one.

Life is short and brutal. Ride free…
20th August 2014 (http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=4946278)
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ecampbell, thank you for adding to this thread. Your adventitious meeting and return visit are exactly in the spirit of this thread. I hope that anyone with similar experiences will feel free to add their words and pics. With everyone's input this could be an “Epic Thread”!

I asked Ray if he would pose for a pic with my bike at our next meeting and he agreed with one of his signature, sly grins. I hope to show all y'all that toothy smile and wild beard and twinkling eyes with my next update. That should be soon…real soon!

As far as recording him, well I will broach the subject eventually. Like many unique and spiritual people, Ray is kinda like a feral animal - ya gotta go slow and gentle until that bond of trust is there. I'm pretty sure that he will be overjoyed to know that his memories will live on and be enjoyed and appreciated by a vast group of hard-ridin' scooter tramps like you, Faithful Readers.

It warms the black hunk of cold rock that is my heart to know that so many of y'all are reading this and caring about my new friend, Ray. He's a good feller and I hope one day to show him this thread and all the responses. Lotsa good folk hangin' out and swappin' tales around the digital campfire that is the XLF.

Life is short and brutal. Ride free…
(http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=4947250)
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Tales of Ray and the Isle of Man and High Speed Getoffs!

A Prelude
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As the rear wheel spun, I watched the sprocket engaging the chain. The chain was riding a bit close to the left-hand side plates. A quick adjustment had the chain running true on the sprocket and I sat on the concrete behind my Sporty and just spun the wheel a few times.

Damn, a clean and well-lubed chain spins so smooth and free! Reduce friction - go faster! Faster! That thought, the thought of two wheels and un-bridled speed, turned my mind to my upcoming visit with Ray. “If you don't fall off, yer not going fast enough!” That's what Ray has said to me prolly a hunnerd times during our talks. Its his mantra. Om mani padme om…no effin' way! That hippie mysticism just ain't Ray. “If you don't fall off, yer not going fast enough!” Repeat that to yerself several times during this chat with Ray and you will get a better idea of my conversation.

I got my ass off the concrete (I am lucky enough to have a nice motorcycle lift table, but there are some things that ya just need to get down with the machine and sit on the floor, Or in the dirt. Y'all know.) and took the bike off the lift. Rolled it into the brassy SoCal sun. Locked up the Mosey Compound, grabbed my gear and started up that trusty lump of iron.

As she warmed, shaking enough to blur my vision, there was a feeling of anticipation, like a bell ringing so far away that you can't hear it…

Life is short and brutal. Ride free…
23rd August 2014 (http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=4949170)
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Preview - Tales of Ray and the Isle of Man and High Speed Getoffs!

Concerto

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“The time has come,” the Walrus said, “To talk of many things: Of shoes–and ships–and sealing-wax– Of cabbages–and kings– And why the sea is boiling hot– And whether pigs have wings.”

Lewis Carroll
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The sharp eyes looked at me and the words filtered through the wild, white beard, “So, whattaya do for a living?”

When I answered and showed him my latest work injury he laughed and said that I prolly deserved it and I agreed. “Looky there.” Ray directs my attention to a pretty, young, dark-haired, sloe-eyed nurse walking past. She's a cutie! Ray leans in close and whispers in a stage voice, “That there is my new girlfriend.”

“Now Ray, you know I'm married.”

“That don't make no never mind to me.”

“You be good Ray. Your friend there looks as disreputable as you.”

Ray and I both laugh.

“You boys be good now. Okay?” and she sashays off in her white uniform. That was fun.

So he then proceeds to tell me about a couple unusual pets that he owned (Or did they own him? Hmmm.) in years past. Interestingly enough, we both had cared for orphaned raccoons. Sometime I will have to tell Ray about the porcupine that I found and bottle-fed. Someday…

I turned the conversation to the two-wheeled adventures of my compatriot. I never know what he's gonna tell me so, for now, it seems best to just let him ramble. Later there will be time to ask specific questions but, for the present, I'm interested to find out the depth and breadth of the overall story. Go crazy Ray! Let it all hang out.

He starts talking about his trip to the Isle of Man in the Sixties and my eyes light up and I sat up straight in my chair. It felt like getting hit with a cattle prod. Whoa doggie.

Phrases like “Airborne at Ballaugh Bridge” and “Kate's Cottage” and “Sideways through the corner at Governor's” peppered his tale. He told a little about putting his race bike on a ship to send it across the ocean. How it took two months! Collecting it at the docks, getting through customs and finally on to the track and race prep. He learned the course and I dreamt of what that must have been like - the sounds of full on race machines, the smell of Castrol R, the sight of people lining the course. Hell, back then the spectators were practically standing on the track and racers tore past sometimes inches away. Damn!

And then he talked about being timed at a hunnerd and sixty in the TT and I could hear the pride in his voice. He started wandering away from the TT and the Manx GP and off we go across Europe to the French Grand Prix, on to Hockenheim and the Sachsenring and a host of other Continental tracks. Exotic locations, but to Ray they all were just another place to twist the wick and go hunting apexes.

And then we were back in the USA and Ray's tellin' me about gettin' highsided on a corner near the bottom of Pike's Peak. he was sideways in a curve, caught traction and the bike spit him off on the far side of a hunnerd miles per. He laughed as he remembered being filled with adrenaline. How he jumped up and ran back, hoisted his still running machine back on two wheels and took off.

About halfway up the mountain his right shoulder starts to hurt and gets worse with every jolt. It hurts from his neck to hand just to maintain a hold on the bars. Ray's grins tightens visibly through the beard as he recounts grimly hanging onto his Triumph's grip and keeping it twisted wide-effin' open all the way up the goddamned mountain!

“Excuse me. I'm sorry to interrupt.” A different, older but still sweet-faced nurse leaned in and put a gentle hand on Ray's shoulder. “Ray, it's time for dinner.”

Ray says, “I pay her extra to make sure I get into the chow hall first. I wanna get my food while it's fresh and hot.”

“Yes, Ray does like it fresh and hot.” She says this with a subtle, Mona Lisa smile on her beatific face.

“Just the way I like my women!”

“Now Ray, you be good.” I have a feeling Ray hears that phrase a lot. Just like I hear him say, “If ya don't fall off yer not going fast enough!”

Now I'm not one to get in between a hungry man and his dinner. I like my appendages. Ray and I shook hands and I asked, like a gentleman, if next week would be a good time to visit. He showed me a full set of white choppers that split his beard. “You bet! I'll be waitin' right here.”

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The old Ironhead sounded particularly good - deep and resonant with a good dose of healthy crackle as I got on the throttle. Damn, ya gotta love a sweet-runnin' motorsickle…

“I weep for you,” the Walrus said: “I deeply sympathize.” With sobs and tears he sorted out Those of the largest size, Holding his pocket-handkerchief Before his streaming eyes.

Lewis Carroll
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Life is short and brutal. Ride free…
26th August 2014 (http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=4952411)
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BTW, I forgot to mention that the reason his arm was hurtin' was because he had broken his collarbone!

If you have ever busted that particular lil' piece of calcium well, ya know how much it hurts just to lift yer arms…let alone twist a throttle and hold on to a bucking bronco of a motorsickle pounding it's way up a steep and unforgiving mountain.

Life is short and brutal. Ride free…
26th August 2014 (http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=4952437)
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After doing a little online research, I think that I know exactly who Ray is. By using a few clues and doing a little hunting I found that the old boy is quite a respected competitor. When I asked Ray about posting a picture here for y'all, he adamantly replied in the negative. I respect the man's need for privacy so a lot of details and dates are purposely being left out of the story. Too much info and all y'all could track him down the same way that I did.

So now ya know that I will continue to be a little fuzzy on the dates and places. I won't tell ya everything, but I'll definitely give youse guys the bird's eye lowdown on the caper. You will get the meat and potatoes but no side dishes, appetizers or dessert.

I can't wait to go see Ray in a couple days. Who knows what I will be regaled with? Perhaps we will speak of hot shoes and left-hand turns, bangin' elbows and dirt berms. We will see.

Life is short and brutal. Ride free…
26th August 2014 (http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=4952759)
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So today was a rather short visit due to my schedule, but we found a few minutes to sit outside in the shade and shoot the breeze. I have such a good time talkin' with Ray and I find myself counting down the days until we meet again. I know that one day, far too soon, he will be finished with his medical treatments and surgeries and will go back to Sandy Eggo. It will be a bit more of a commitment to see Ray when it means a three hundred mile round trip as opposed to a mere ten miles.

Ray wanted to talk about his time in prison, how he got there and how he spent his time in the hoosegow. Thirteen years is a long time to keep a man locked up in a cage for getting in a fistfight with an off-duty cop. I'm sure that he woulda gotten a lighter sentence if the cop had won the fight!

He talked about getting shipped all over the state of California, from prison to prison, and how he saw the way a man can become an animal when inside the system. He vowed that he would keep his humanity no matter what…I think he did a helluva job. I would trust Ray with my money and my motorsickle. But not my women! No way!!

“So tell me Ray,” I asked when the conversation lulled. “What did ya do when you were younger - ya know, before ya started racing motorbikes and going to prison?”

“I went to MIT.”

“You went where? MIT? Are you kidding me?”

“Back then I wanted to be a nuclear physicist.”

Two years he attended the most prestigious technical school in the US until his Dad got sick, the money ran out, and he had to return home to care for his family. I could hear the catch in his voice as he told of those years. I think if things had turned out a little differently old Ray woulda been racing rocketships around the Milky Way galaxy and beyond. Apollo woulda gotten to the moon a LOT faster if Ray had been on the team. And they prolly woulda slid in sideways, full opposite lock, to boot!

Well I left my friend with the promise that I would return and bring him a cigarette loaded with a little black hash. He said that he never really like smoking cannabis but a chunk of hash would always make him happy. When I told him that a Nepalese farmer taught me how to make hashish, his eyes lit up like a kid seeing the Christmas tree and all the presents.

“Hell yes, I'll smoke that! Just a little bit in a coffin nail so the nurses don't catch me and I'll be as happy as a dog with two dicks.”

(Ray has a rather colorful way of talkin' but I think all y'all can handle it, eh?)

“Okay Ray, a loaded cig it is. Would Tuesday be good for you.”

Ray grinned that warm, infectious smile of his, we shook hands and parted ways.

C'mon Tuesday!!!

Life is short and brutal. Ride free…
29th August 2014 (http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=4956051)
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For the record - when I first met Ray I was kinda skeptical about his exploits. I mean really, who has that kind of a life? Some fictional character? Some scroungy-looking old dude that I met in a parking lot? Really?

I don't trust easily but there was sumpin' about Ray that I found impossible to deny. He never bragged about anything and most of the info I had to pry outta him. He's gotten more comfortable with me and the words flow out a little easier, but he still has that understated way of approaching a subject.

On my second visit Ray mentioned that he owns a grip of houses in San Diego and I thought, “Yeah right. I find it hard to believe that this scruffy character that is always dressed in the same shitty windbreaker and old trucker hat has two nickels to rub together”

But when one of the nurses told me that Ray's sister mentioned that Ray owns around a hunnerd and twenty houses…well, I about fell over. At that point I had to reassess this guy and what he was tellin' me. Can all this be real?

I don't think that the old guy is jivin' me. I think he lived a life that will burn across the fabric of time. And I hope that you will read this with an open mind cuz old Ray has a LOT more to tell. I just hope that I can keep up. Thank you, Faithful Reader, for coming along for the adventure.

Life is short and brutal. Ride free…
29th August 2014 (http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=4956100)
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“Well, I was out riding my bicycle one day - I was maybe thirteen or fourteen at the time - and I heard this Gawd-awful sound. It was really a roar. It made the hair on my neck stand up when I heard it and I went looking for the source of the noise.”

His hands wandered absently to his beard and smoothed the long white whiskers. His fingers twirled the ends of his mustache into even points as his mind traveled back through the years.

“I rode my bike around through this industrial area. There was a bunch of ramshackle little buildings fulla machinists and auto shops and muffler places. Ya know what I mean.” He glanced up and continued.

“So I turned the corner and there it was,” Ray paused for effect.

“What?” I blurted out.

“This car. Well, not really a car…a dragster. It was big and mean looking with that huge motor and those slicks on the back. It had these little bitty wire wheels up front. I rode up and got off my bike. I think I just dropped it - forgot all about the kickstand - and walked around that car.”

“I was thrilled and scared at the same time. That thing looked like it wanted to kill me. But I knew then and there that I wanted to drive that car. Or sumpin' like it. Sumpin' fast!”

Old Ray flashed that slightly maniacal grin and went on, “When the guys in the shop saw me eyeballin' their car they came out and talked to me. That was scary too. These bad-ass grown men, dirty and greasy and everything that my Mother warned me about were actually talking to me.”

Ray's eyes glazed over a bit and he fell silent. I wondered what he was seeing, prolly that dragster sitting in the sun on that street on that long gone day.

“So I would go over, hang around and sweep the floor. Sometimes I got to put tools away or clean parts. Later they showed me how to bend tubing and weld. I learned a lot at that place.”

“Where was this?” I asked.

“Down in Carlsbad (a little town outside of San Diego) and the shop was called Dragmasters.”

“Dragmasters?”

“Yeah. They built a few cars.”

“They built a few cars?” I was flabbergasted. “They built almost every top contender on the West Coast. I don't know squat about drag racing and I know about Dragmasters. They were the shizznit back in the day.”

“The what?”

“Oh sorry Ray. That's some slang that I picked up from Snoop Dog.”

“Snoop? I really like that “Gin and Juice” song of his.”

Ah Ray, you blow my mind. You da man!

We chatted about the Thing Two (a twin-engined drag car built in that shop), Dode Martin, and the Dragmaster Dart until it was time for me to leave. I gathered up my helmet and gloves, shook hands with Ray and walked to my bike.

I climbed on the old Shovelhead (Sorry Faithful Readers, but yer Humble Narrator doesn't always ride an Ironhead!) and went through the drill. Petcock on, check for neutral. I feel the rockerboxes and decide not to use the choke or any prime kicks. Swing out the kicker and bring 'er up on compression.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see that Ray is watching along with ten or so other elderly residents out enjoying the evening breezes. I know I gotta make it good.

So I reach down and turn on the ignition. “C'mon ya old girl, Let's give 'em a show.”

I cracked the throttle a bit and turned to grin at Ray as I gave the kicker a whack. Boom! The old Shovel lit off with a growl that prolly shook a couple windows in the old folks home and maybe rattled a denture or two.

Ray smiled broadly and shook his fist. “Hell yeah! That sounds good!!”

“Thanks Ray!” I hollered. “Not bad for a Harley, eh?”

“Not bad at all.”

“I'll see ya later, Ray”

“Alright. Remember, if ya don't fall off–”

”–yer not going fast enough,“ I finished.

We both smiled.

A couple of the watching elders shook their heads in disapproval but most of 'em were smiling and nodding. One sweet old lady was clapping her hands in delight. I was kinda overwhelmed and pleased at their reaction. Kickstarting a motorsickle can be rewarding on many levels.

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I stopped by my friend's house on the way home. We burned a doob as we sat on his couch.

“Mosey, why you grinning like that? You been smiling since you put yer kickstand down. What gives?”

“I just came from seeing Ray.”

“That old guy in the nursing home? There must be sumething special about him.”

Yeah, there's sumpin' special about Ray.
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Life is short and brutal. Ride free…
12th September 2014 (http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=4968526)
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