My thoughts exactly. First time I saw him stand up on his bike w/o a helmet, I thought of the Darwin award. Still a great loss, still a great builder. He just did a really stupid thing. Sad he had to pay such a high price for it.
He lived how he wanted to live, and died doing what he loved. I'm sure some people would call what he used to do stupid, but when I go I hope it's on my own terms as well. Of course I'm too scared to do that sort of stuff...but I still admired him for what he did, even when it made me cringe. I think it's kind of messed up that they put him on that Darwin list, an insult to him, I think.
I don't think he belongs on the list any more than a tightrope walker or a lion tamer or whatever. He was a showman. When I think of the darwin award I think of some hillbilly deciding to unlock his car door with dynamite or something really stupid.
Sometimes the choices we make don't get the results we expect. I wonder if he were to come back, would he say what he did was stupid or would he do it the same way again? Thats left of reach of us to ponder and maybe use his experience as a guide to decide some some of the somewhat crazy things we all do from time to time. Frank
I never knew Indian Larry, but he was a big influence on me and my friends. He understood what a chopper was, no question. About a month before he died I wrote this story for Bikernet. Read it if you don't mind long posts or yer bored. It's called "Perilous cool and the story of Fast Eddie"... * * I often state that anything truly cool is running on the edge between life or death, p*** or fail, Ted Nugent or "Damn Yankees" etc. Just so you know when I write these stories they are not "based on fact" or "inspired by". They happened, and as a lot of you know the " smoothing" or "spinning" as they say just ain't necessary with some things. All this mainstream chopper marketing reminded me of something. Here's the story of Louisville's fastest K model and a man named "Fast Eddie". True, Ks were known to be notoriously slow in stock form. So slow in fact that Elvis' management would only let him ride a stock K model in his early days. Another fact about the bike was, in the hands of the right tuner/builder they could flat out leave the ground. A K that was set up right could run with anything on the street in the late 60's. Not to mention the little tractor terrorised dirt and asphalt tracks all over the world WAY past it's freshness date. BUT, I ain't here to talk about that, I'll leave the H-D history to cable. My dad and his buddy Kenny "campained" a street racer K model back in '68 or so. Kenny owned it and my old man wrenched and rode it some of the time. They both worked at a battery factory back then, and a lot of the guys there rode motorcycles to work. Triumphs, Nortons, BSAs, Sportsters...you know. See kids, back then a Sportster wasn't considered a "girls bike". It was a factory superbike. Young guys who want to tear *** have to have the latest freakshow, and back then it was a bored and stroked TT Triumph or a stripped down CH. So anyway, Kenny's K model was undefeated on the street back then. It was a stripped down '54 with metallic plumb tanks and fenders. Low bars, open pipes and a 4.00x18 M&H on the back. The best thing about it though... it had an honest to god flat track style motor set up by the late Bobby Hoe of Cincinatti. It was a mother****er to start, ran on av-gas and had to be rebuilt every year. Kenny or my Dad would run it. In addition to street racing the giant parking lot at the battery factory saw plenty of terror between the rows of employees cars at lunch time. Back then when you took lunch EVERYBODY took lunch. Every once in a while some dude would get a new street bike and want to run that K model. Kenny or the ol' man would roll that thing out, line it up with whatever taker there was and dust their ***. I can see it now, the glare radiating off all those car windsheilds in the muggy kentucky sun. The K with it's open pipes, roastin' that M&H. Workers yellin and screamin' with sandwiches in their hands. Then....BBBBBRAAAAAAAHHH**** AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! BUT......Nothing lasts forever. One day a new kid about 18 years old got hired and he was ridin' a brand new, stock, 2-stroke Kawasaki triple. Pea green. He was a scrawny annoying kid who bugged everybody and more or less didn't know or care about the mighty K models street cred. He bugged Kenny and Dad every day to run him at lunch. They'd ride his ***, making fun of him with jokes like "Hey kid, where do you go when you need a 'RIIIIING DING DING DING' for that smelly piece o' ****?" What happened next was disgusting to anybody who digs harleys and pure monkey spankin' nirvana for those who don't. The day finally came when the mighty K model lined up with this screaching, stinking, "chuck" tennis shoe wearin', pimply nerd from Fern Creek. The stocky little H-D was runnin' right, heatin' up the slick on a fresh tank of av-gas and that nervous little freak was blippin' the throttle on the Kawi...RRRIIIING ding ding ding RRRRRIIIIIIING ding ding ding....Some guy waved his ham on rye and "that was all she wrote" my dad said. "The K model come outta the hole STRONG and I knew I had him. Then all I saw was this skinny kid hangin' on for dear life, that Kawi standin' on the back wheel, he wasn't wearin' any socks. I don't know why I noticed that **** but he was all over the thing trying to get it down the parkin' lot and there was no ****in' way to catch him. Nobody could believe it." 5 years of supertrick hand built american soul smoked by a store bought "**** you" from overseas. The pain......... Kenny sold the K a while later to a friend named "Fast Eddie". Beginning the next chapter of the story... Fast Eddie was one of those good lookin' drug dealer/hipsters from the* early 70's. Bad*** muscle car, cool chopper, good weed and a plethora of other stuff made this cat the guy to know. Back then drugs were illegal, but they didn't have decades of freaky mojo behind 'em like now. The most ******** greaser from the day was happily shucking his Levis and Flag brothers strollers for double knit bell bottoms and a fu manchu. This transformation affected everything, as well as the old K model. When Eddie got hold of that K he had 'er dipped in gold metalflake and put a brakeless, six over skinny springer on the front. No he did not rake it. Yes, it handled like ****. So now the little flathead was pointing up in the air with a *****in' new paint job and a new chrome sissy bar. Kenny and the ol' man were worried. The K may not be the fastest monster on the street anymore, but it was WAY too fast for a new guy, and that extended front end well....it was plain spooky. My dad claims the 70's were a blur. Between the drugs and the "relaxed" social aspects everybody was kind of "supercharged". So here's "Fast Eddie", one of the coolest dudes around. Livin' fast, "Jesus Christ Superstar", head shops, cool cars, cool bikes and hot chicks. It was enough to make a "square" with a "straight" job jump off a cliff. So, your Bob. You're on your way home from work in the stationwagon, sitting at a light on Preston Hiway. The wife's at home cookin' dinner and although she's put on a few pounds after having Bob jr. and Sally you still like her. The mortgage is a ***** and that ***hole ***istant manager Fincklestein keeps you from at least tolerating your job. Suddenly your startled out of your daymare by this harsh ripping sound. A shiny gold and chrome chopper flashes past you in the turn lane. There it is man. Freedom, *** (my god look at that chick) and excitement flying p***ed you. Your new life flashes before your eyes...you pawn the wagon and steal a Harley Police Special, you tear it apart in your new girlfriends living room (who happens to be a headlining stripper/trust fund baby), where you and your bad*** biker brothers turn that H-D into a rolling work of art. You got a thousand bucks in your pocket and a jacket full of specklebird as you roll down Preston hiway....Mutton chops blowin' in the breeze and a firm rack of 38 DDs pressed into your back. I AM THE KING I AM THE MAN **** MY JOB MY WIFE MY MOTHER IN LAW MY MORTGAGE **** **** **** IT WHAT AM I DOING IN THIS ****ING SUB-DIVISION???!!!!!!!!!! KAAAAHHHBOOOOOOM!!!!!!!........................... ??????!!!! What the.......? There Bob sits, mouth hanging open. His country squire idling smoothly as his brain processes what just happened. The chopper screamed p***ed him and then veered wildly to the left as the rider tried in vane to miss the back of that stopped furniture truck. There was the sickening over revving of the engine as he froze with the throttle wide open, pile driving that bike right into the back of the truck. The girl's head popped like an orange (BOOOF!) when she flew over the guy, slamming into the roll up door of the truck. ("Follow me to Furniture World!") Killing her instantly. The bike burst into crackling flames, there is no other noise as Bob numbly takes it all in. One dead girl. Check. One destroyed burning chopper. Check. One blood smeared furniture truck. Check. There, a couple cars up on his hands and knees is the cool guy. He's blubbering incoherantly as he crawls around scooping up hundreds of pills that are ****tered everywhere. He keeps brushing back his long blood matted hair and muttering something about cops. It's not his hair he's flipping back, it's his scalp. The pills lay in a pool of blood and gas and oil and he's all alone for a while. Their eyes meet through the heat ripples off the pavement as folks start yelling for help and running around. Bob looks in the mirror and sees one hard working square who needs to get home to his wife, kids and mortgage....Check. There is no middle ground for some things. Everything else firmly fits into the "SANE" category. It wasn't just Marlon Brando who saved Harley-Davidson. It was the IDEAL of "Fast Eddie", only smoothed over and refitted. Spun into an acceptable version without the risk. I made a chopper out of Razor blades once. I rode it all over town for months without a scratch. It was ****ing CRAZY. We all still talk about it and there's nothing but good times connected to it. But if I would've crashed...If my foot slipped off that clutch in a crowd or someone turned left in front of me.......Well, "you're on your own fool". It gives me the willies just thinkin' about it.....Happy trails.
I agree. The way I look at this tragedy: He was doing what he loved, and had a good time while doing it, even getting national attention from the shows he was on. He was at the pinnacle of his career...and I honestly think that he may have thought that if he had to go, this would be the time. You can't go wrong with dying while doing what you love. Now if I do something stupid, & not what I love, and die while doing it...I would get the darwin award. I haven't accomplished much, and I sure as hell ain't happy with my life. I'm not ready to go yet cause I got too many unfinished things in my life. Indian larry had at least accomplished something I never did. Yet.
Indian Larry lived in a world that no longer exist today..a world changed by TV,, computers,lawyers and the CORPORATE MACHINE......he was YOUR glimpse into the world of yesterday...be thankful for that middle america....people like Larry used to live on every street across the world...you knew the guy,,the one your parents told you to stay away from,,but didnt know why,he wasnt a bad guy,,but just some one who lived their life to the fullest and sometimes that makes regular people nervous,, ..,but times change...in a world of internet,starbucks,walmart,chevy avalanche,free ****,we love to search for something we can put up in our hollywood status since reality TV has taken over,,,the only thing we have to look foward to is the latest "celebrity" murder/molestation scandal...its sad when bruce willis lets his fine lady lay with a TOTAL IDIOT like ashuton krutcher who hollywood decided is the latest money maker and acts like a chump when asked about it,.... anyways,,,,about Indian Larry,i have nothing but ultimate respect for THE MAN.,,, we should ALL live our lives as great as he did....
Darwin Award.... Such a 'funny' web site! Smug and cr***. How's this: I put each of these zero's in a full nelson while Larry's Biggest fan's punch the F*&# outta these clown's. BAM! Man dude, that had to hurt.....
Ya know when I was little I saw a flat tracker go through the cyclone fence at the mile track in San Jose. He was wearing a helmet, and leathers and boots, and gloves. He isn't any less dead. If you hang with the Darwin Award types then you'll probably think that anyone who does anything that involves risk deserves a Darwin Award. Don't know Larry but it still ****s that he didn't make the trip. Does he deserve to be ridiculed, not on your life. Who has the right to knock someone who has done something that they don't have the intestinal for***ude to try themselves.
Is there anyone on the HAMB who didn't come real, real close to earning a Darwin while still a teenager? Working under cars held up by stacks of bricks, cleaning parts in gasoline, discovering that your jalopy's engine works a lot better than its tires or brakes...I think it's a miracle that any gearhead ever lives to be 25.
The Jalopy Journal
