8. The April Fool's Bike

April Fool’s Day of 1983 dawned in Big Spring, Texas, with a scary, ugly orange/brown sunrise accompanied by a howling, moaning wind clocked at 88 mph. A Greyhound bus stopped on I-20 due to poor visibility and was promptly rear ended by 18 cars. And this was the day Judy decided which new bike she would buy.

A few weeks before this sand storm, the Harley Davidson Motorcycle Company had petitioned the International Trade Commission to levy an import tax of $l,500 on all bikes with an engine displacement size greater than 700 cc. This tax was scheduled to become effective on or around April 5, 1983. The objective was to give the last American motorcycle manufacturer a little breathing room.

After several years of perceived mismanagement by AMF, Harley Davidson had beaten the odds by surviving. Although AMF has come in for a large chunk of criticism, they must be given some credit for the survival; but Harley Davidson survived largely because of a fiercely loyal customer base.

Riders were quick to separate the machine from the company. If it was a pre-1969, it was a Harley. Post-1969 models were cited as AMFs - a rather insulting term. Those most critical and vocal of AMF's shortcomings during this time were the loyal Harley riders and the assembly line employees of the company!

Today, of course, Harley has improved the quality of their product. The import tax that gave them time to solve assembly line, supply, and quality problems was scheduled to run for five years. H-D ended that assistance voluntarily thirteen months early due to listening to the employee on the line! But, the tax increase on imports was not reduced back to previous levels!!?

While Judy and I don't buy Harleys, we still enjoy the success they earned because we like the idea of the last American motorcycle company still being in business. Besides, it’s fun to tweak the udder of the sacred cow. They are so serious! In fact, some of our best friends ride Harleys. Meanwhile, back at the sandstorm...

It was time for Miss Judy to get a new bike. "Someone" had T-boned a Pontiac Firebird while waving at one of the secretaries and broke her swift little Yamaha XS 1100. Also, his hard head! I had just honked and waved at one of the administrative secretaries, a handsome lass in her own right. (ah, you are surprised it was me?) My attention returned to the road just in time to see the front tire of Judy's XS1100 disappearing into the wheel well of the Firebird.

One microsecond later my thin, but wiry body flew over the handlebars and the hood of the car. I came to an abrupt stop on the pavement. Wasn't hurt bad thanks to the helmet I was wearing, but I nearly lost a tooth and my face looked like Alfred E. Neumann for a few weeks. After a brief period of recovery we parted company with the fastest bike in West Texas and headed for the Yamaha shop. The date was April 1, 1983.

Still shopping around, we thought maybe we'd look at some other brands and see if a Honda Interstate or a big Suzuki was a better purchase. We were reluctant to buy another first year model because of the bad experiences we were still having with the infamous KZ 1300.

The Big Spring dealer, Honest John Tweaker, persuaded us with this gentle reminder. "Thanks to our friends at the International Trade Commission, next week this bike will cost you $6700 instead of $5200. You've had Yamahas a long time. You know how strong they are!" A brief, but intense, consultation followed. When it was over, Judy told Tweaker to wrap it up. This became the famous Lady-J that graced the cover of the Venture Road magazine two years later. ( I still can't figure out how that bike's price could go up $1500 as it sat on the showroom floor just because some bureaucrat in Washington passed a tax! )

But what happened to the little XS 1100? Why did it get sold? And what about that T-bone incident? Ah, they form the basis for more stories like these!

And the secretary who caused it all? Boys, I really "flipped" for her!