A Hundred Bucks, KZ 1000, and More

Reader Contribution by Motorcycle Classics Readers
Published on August 8, 2025
article image
courtesy of Walter Marquadt

A hundred bucks well spent

I was somewhat startled to see a ’39 EL go for 110,000 Simoleons at the Mecum auction in Las Vegas. My first motorcycle was a ’39 61 inch Knucklehead. I gave a friend a hundred bucks for it. That was in Milwaukee where I grew up. The EL tranny needed help so I took it to a shop out on 60th and Fond du Lac Ave that dealt only in used Harleys. It was run by a soft spoken older gent named Ralph who always had classical music playing. He called and said it needed a bottom shaft but that he couldn’t find one anywhere. This was in the ’60s. I called a family friend, Sal Tarantino, who had worked in the racing division at Harley in the ’40s but was now in export. I explained my problem. He told me to call back in an hour. I called and he said to come down to the plant, the first plant at 37th and Juneau, and pick it up. I went down there. It was lying on his desk. When he got off the phone from arranging to send a bunch of motorcycles to the Cambodian army, I asked how he did it. He said, “I walked out on the factory floor and lifted it out of the basket as soon as it was machined.”

There’s a shot of me on my ’39 EL. Later while driving truck around the state at night for The Milwaukee Journal newspaper and attending college by day, I happened on the ’47 Chief on a farm near Oshkosh. I went back and hauled it home for $85. A friend in California still has it. Among a host of others, I horse traded into an 841 military shaft drive. Other trades yielded a Gold Star, a 441 Victor and a ’58 BSA 650, a long stroke favorite that pulled like a John Deere tractor. I rode it all over Vancouver Island and had some adventures. The scene had shifted by that time to Seattle where I still live.

My uncle said he was on a back road near Oconomowoc, Wisconsin, practicing standing up on the saddle of the police Harley when the mayor drove by. Of course, I had to try it. The Indian Chief could almost ride itself, so I stood up on the saddle with arms outstretched. My wife, later ex, saw me, screamed, and ran inside to look for life insurance papers.

The mag is a favorite! I read every issue from cover to cover!

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