Long Story of the RUNAWAY bike

[Lynn]

Bill Pritchard made mention of my runaway bike. Here is the back story. For you folks that don’t really care for human interest stories, feel free to move on. Sorry this is so long. Charlie is a man of few words. Apparently, I was vaccinated with a phonograph needle.

I had quite the troubled childhood, and a strained relationship with my Dad. The “rest of the story” on why things were the way they were really aren’t germane to this story, and stem from facts I didn’t learn until I was in my early 20s. Partially as a result of the harsh treatment I received from my Dad, I ended up being a HORRIBLE big brother to the brother three years younger than me. After the second great epiphany of my life when I made my peace with God and really turned my life around (but before I even knew why things were the way they were with Dad) I asked my brother’s forgiveness for all the mean and nasty things I had done to him. But I digress.

I got my first paper route at age 12. I continued throwing newspapers through HS, as it was the only way I could earn money and still play sports. Had to make $$ if I wanted transportation. All the “rich” kids in the neighborhood rode Schwinn Stingrays. I still had my old “regular” bike, and that is what I used for throwing papers. I had ridden a couple of Stingrays; but didn’t like the little sprocket, as it limited top speed. This was 1965, about five years before Schwinn made a multi geared Stingray. At least I think that is correct; don’t be too harsh if I missed it a bit. I didn’t want a 10 speed (what everyone at the time called an “English Racer”).

I was at the store one day and saw this really cool bike. It was styled similar to a Stingray. Same size wheels, tall handlebars, “banana” style seat, etc. But... this one was made by Huffy and it was a three speed!!! Holy chit. It was gold colored and had a leopard print seat cover. I HAD to have it. It was a Huffy Dragster II. I didn’t even know the name of it. I just new I liked it. Even though I had my own money from throwing papers, I had to clear purchases with my Mom. After some hard bargaining, she agreed. We took it home in the 59 Plymouth station wagon (one of the ugliest cars of all time, but at least it looked better than the same model in a sedan). I THINK I paid between $55 and $65 for it; the equivalent to $550 to $650 today. Pretty good for a 12 year old in 1965. The first time she saw me ride it down the driveway, sitting as far back on the seat as I could and still let me short little legs hit the pedals, she was convinced she never should have let me buy it. She told me that I looked arrogant and thought I was better than everybody else when I was on that bike. Maybe I did. But I loved that bike. No one else in the neighborhood ever got one like it. I was the cat’s meow.

In August of 1966, I was squabbling with that brother that I was so crappy toward. It wasn’t always my fault. He knew he could antagonize me, and liked to stir the pot. Dad came down really hard on me. I thought it was so unfair. I was so pissed, I decided to get on my bike and head for Mexico. You read that right. I planned to find work in Mexico as a dishwasher. Boy, there’s a genius plan for a bright future for a 13 year old.

I left that Sunday about noon. I rode through South OKC until I came across the newly completed H.E. Bailey turnpike. Sign said the minimum speed was 40 mph. Even with a “high” gear, I didn’t think I could sustain 40 mph to my first scheduled stop; Lawton, OK.

So, I took to the back roads. I know I want through Tuttle, Minco and Anadarko. Not sure what other towns I went through. Didn’t have a map. I just kept going mostly South. When I saw the sign for Anadarko, I know it was in the same direction as Lawton.

At some point before nightfall, the cable for the shifter broke. I can’t remember if it defaulted to first or third, but best I can recall it was first gear. Ironic that I passed on a Stingray because of the low gearing and now I am stuck in an even lower gear. I went “McGyver” on it. I figured out that if I jammed a pebble just the right size in that little shift lever on the rear hub (see pic below) that it would stay in second gear. Figured that was a good compromise. Low was too low to get up to speed. Third was too tall to get going.

There was no moonlight that night. I don’t know if it was overcast, or just the time of month when there is no moon early in the night. Don’t remember the date. Thinking back, it must have been overcast, as I do not remember even seeing stars or starlight. It was so dark at times that virtually the only thing I could see was the white stripe on the side of the road. I vividly remember having to look down at that white stripe as I peddled. That was all I had for direction until getting to the next town.

Before getting to Lawton, I had my first brush with a near death experience. I was crossing a one lane bridge. At about the half way point here comes a Greyhound bus, coming right at me from the opposite direction. I scooted as close to the railing as I could. Had there been no railing, I would have jumped.... but didn’t have time to climb over the rail. I turned the handlebars to a 45 degree angle, so that the bars and the front tire would neither one be sticking out all the way. I swear that bus was just a couple inches from my handlebars. I really thought I was a goner.

I rolled into Lawton about 1 a.m. In the summer of 1966 there was a curfew in Lawton because of all the racial tension. Lots of small riots and such going on. I looked much older than my 13 ½ years. Already had hair on my legs and started shaving that year. Couldn’t figure out why the cops in Lawton were eying me so closely and following me. Didn’t learn about the curfew until the next day. For whatever reason, they just let me ride on. Why Lawton? That’s where my maternal grand parents lived. By this time, I had already spent all the money I took with me on food, and was broke. I figured I would “camp out” in their back yard until they went to work, then look for a spare key, go into the house and get some food before heading to Mexico. I spent the night under their picnic table. I was so tired (had ridden about 130 miles) that I didn’t wake up even after the sun came up. My Mom had called her parents to let them know I was missing. My grandmother came out and couldn’t believe I was sleeping there. She woke me up and ushered me into the house.

My grandmother called my parents. Of course they were relieved to know I was OK. I guess they figured I needed to cool off a bit, as they let me stay the with my grandparents for the next week. They drove up to get me the next weekend. I would like to say that was the end of my troubled childhood. Sadly it wasn’t. But it was the last time I ever ran away from home.

Fast forward to my last trip to MCACN. Sherri and I attended together either two or three years ago. Just can’t remember, but I think three. I saw this Huffy Dragster II at the show, and immediately all of those memories of running away came back. It was as if I had just run away the day before. I inquired several times about the bike, but don’t remember a sign on it at all. No one could ever tell me who the owner was or if it was for sale.

This year, that same bike was there, except this time there was a name and phone number and a price tag. I was able to connect with Mark Meldrum who was at the show judging Chevelles. I believe Mark is on this site from time to time, but do not know his screen name. Mark and I talked. I told him the story; made an offer, and struck a deal. When I went by on Sunday to pick up the bike he told me that one of his friends was calling “bullchit” on the story. The guy says there is “no way” a 13 year old could have ridden that bike 130 miles in a day. I am here to tell you, it really happened.

I have never “named” a car. In fact, I have a friend who named his light yellow 53 Studebaker Commander “Buttercup”. I sent him a message letting him know we could no longer be friends if he were naming his car; especially “Buttercup”. All in good fun of course. I told my son, I am naming this bike “Runaway” and putting it up on the wall in the upstairs game room. Will post a pic or two when I do. May be a while. Like Mitch, I too have “Too Many Projects!!!”

Mark posted a YouTube video with the short version of my story. Bike coverage starts at 19 seconds. Interview with me starts at 1:15.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UNS2ZZKEdns

Included a few pics of the bike at my house. Last two are the shift handle and the shift lever.