I'd been taking care of my mother and younger brother by letting them live with me for about two years. It seemed that I'd done all I could do for them and could see myself getting older without a family of my own to care for. I needed to focus on my own life for a change. I didn't really know what I needed to do, or exactly where I needed to go, but I knew that something needed to change. Staying where I was, was never gonna get me out of the rut I was in.
Before leaving for LA, I helped my mother get into a halfway house with her drinking problems where she could get professional help, and took my brother over to our dad's house where he could live with his real dad and stepmother. The reception for my thirteen year old brother at our dads house wasn't exactly full of adulation... I felt bad about it, but I couldn't see anything else that I could do to remedy the situation. I tried to provide a living situation that would at least give us a sense of family togetherness for a while, but by this time, it was all we could do to just cope with our own set of individual problems. I'd given it my best efforts for over two years and was getting burned out from trying to take on the responsibilities of a father when I really wasn't one.
Going to California was like a healing experience for me. I felt a little better every time we passed through another state line away from Michigan. The arrival at LA was full of surprises, some good and some bad. The long springer front end on the chopped Triumph made it necessary to take the front wheel off before it would fit into the semi- trailer. After putting it back on at an Ontario, CA, truck stop where I was let off, I hit the highway and rode for about an hour and a half before reaching the city limits of LA.
I found myself riding comfortably without a helmet in the warm California air, but maneuvering through six lanes of fast moving traffic took most of the enjoyment out of it. It seemed that the closer I got to LA, the more difficulties I was having. For some reason, the axle nuts on the springer front end kept coming off, something that hadn't happened before. After pulling over, without a wrench that fit, I screwed them back on with my fingers and down the highway I went, stopping to tighten the nuts every few miles or so... The next thing I knew, the engine mount bolts had come loose from the frame and the whole engine was shaking itself loose! I pulled over once again and miraculously got a tire iron from someone. Strangely, it managed to fit the engine mount bolts and after a couple of minutes, I was on my way. Just as I was beginning to enjoy the rest of my journey, I looked down at the engine and noticed that the exhaust pipes were coming out of the heads! With already too many pit stops behind me on this menacing six lane highway, I kicked them back in with my feet, the best I could, and kept on riding... I was somewhere in the middle of my worries when I began to see some very high, square topped buildings of LA looming over the horizon. Somewhere on the outskirts of LA, after barely making it into the city and off of the highway exit, my bike altogether died as I rolled it into a parking lot of a gas station...
I went up to the guys running the station and asked where I could find a phone. To my surprise, no one spoke English! They didn't have a clue, what I was talkin' about. One was Latino and the other was Oriental. Eventually, I got to a phone and called my cousin who lived in West Hollywood. He had a friend who had a van, and they both came and picked me up along with the bike. The magneto in the electrical system had shorted out and melted a bunch of wires... Prior to leaving Michigan, I'd paid someone to store the bike and check it out for any minor repairs that it needed so I could make the trip. Needless to say, I was mentally beside myself...
It was gonna take a small fortune to get it fixed and would have cost way too much at a regular bike shop. Living in LA is kind of like living on the North Shore of Oahu where the surfers hang out. If you're not a typical tourist and need something done, you just need to mix in respectfully with the local people and find someone who needs a little money. Someone in the neighborhood will know somebody who can usually take care of the problem. It was one of the times when it helped to have long hair and a full beard. I found some "Hells Angles" guys who liked my bike and said they'd fix it for about three hundred dollars. I hung out with them around their repair shop for an afternoon or two to see how reliable they were before I let them do the job. Fortunately, they did a fine job, but I was now without any extra cash...
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