By Lt. Col. Hank Brandli, U.S. Air Force (ret).

My 1963 Honda Bentley Motorcycle

The “Bulletin”

West Roxbury / Roslindale, Massachusetts

Published originally in the West Roxbury/ Roslindale Ma “Bulletin” July 13, 2006

In March of 2006, my brother Paul called me on his cell phone. He was on the Southeast Expressway going into Boston. He said, “Hank, I’m on the Southeast Expressway. How the hell did you drive a motorcycle down here in 1963?”   “You certainly couldn’t do it today.  With all the potholes and heavy and speeding traffic, you'd get killed!”

That cell phone call brought back memories. In 1963, I was  stationed at Topsham Air Force Station near Brunswick, Maine, and was completing a 3-year tour as a Weather Forecaster. I was a lieutenant in the United States Air Force and had just received my orders to attend  graduate school  for 2 years at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT).

It had a tremendous cast of co-stars that included Alec Guiness, Anthony Quinn, Jack Hawkins, Jose Ferrer, Anthony Quyle, Claude Rains, Arthur Kennedy and Omar Sharif. The movie won seven Academy Awards, including Best Picture, in 1962. I will never forget that movie – I’ve seen it about twenty times.

I had recently seen a movie called Lawrence of Arabia, directed by David Lean. The movie introduced Peter O'Toole as T. E. Lawrence.

In the opening scene, Peter O’Toole, as T. E. Lawrence, is driving an English motorcycle on a two-lane road through the countryside at high speeds.  The off-road scenery flies by, alternating between open farmlands and being enveloped by overhanging trees.  With his blond hair and white scarf blowing , it sent chills up my back – I thought, “Wow!”

What an experience! I really got turned on to motorcycles. I had never driven a motorcycle although I had been exposed to them through movies and my close childhood friend, Davey. I will never forget Marlon Brando in the Wild Ones, or  Davey riding up our street in the Roslindale section of Boston when he was a teenager.

Davey had several motorcycles:  an Indian, a Triumph and then an orange Harley with huge ape hanger handle bars. He would go racing up and down the Beech Street hill (even though it was one way). He would be going nearly 100 mph in front of our house with his blond hair billowing behind his head.

I can still see my father standing on our porch, his hands clenched on the thick wooden railing and looking through the huge mulberry tree. Dad’s mouth became slightly pursed, and he would yell over the loud motorcycle engine noise, “That crazy bastard! He’s going to kill himself!”

I had never ridden with Davey -- or even sat on the back of his motorcycles. But, that scene with Peter O’Toole really turned me on, and then, coincidently, there was an advertisement that year in Sports Illustrated with Vince Scully of the  Dodgers.  He was advertising Honda motorcycles which had just been introduced in the United States.

I was married and had a couple of kids. I could never afford a Harley or a Triumph.  So, I inquired about the Honda and found they were reasonably priced.  I thought that when I went to Boston, I would buy a Honda and use it for my commute to MIT. The drive through Boston would be a nightmare in a car with all the traffic. And, with a motorcycle I could park next to the building where classes were held.  Any precious time I could save would be a benefit, as I was to be taking graduate courses in two fields  to get two masters degrees.

When I moved to Boston, I lived in Quincy, Massachusetts, known as the home of the second President of the United States, John Adams.  My sister’s mother-in-law owned the house we lived in,  and she lived upstairs. My sister’s husband Peter took me  to the Honda dealership on Commonwealth Avenue in Boston to look at the Honda motorcycles.

He drove us there in his pickup truck, and we went into the showroom, which had just opened.  There was my dream bike, a black 1963 Honda Bentley with white wall tires. I was spellbound!

I sat on it; fell in love with it; then asked the salesman, “How much?”

He told me $506.00.  Because Harleys cost in the thousands at that time, I couldn't believe that price.  I asked him how it worked, and he showed me.  He then asked if I had ever driven a motorcycle before. I told him,”No.  I then added, “Show me how to start it and  shift it. I’ll figure it out.”  So, I bought the Honda (with a windshield added because I didn't want any bugs smashing in my face).

Peter asked me, “You sure you don’t want to drive this thing first?” I told him I would drive it when we got home. Somehow, we got the bike on the back of his pickup and drove to my apartment in Quincy and unloaded the motorcycle. By this time, it was after dusk and I took the key; started it up; sat on it and threw it into first; gave it a little gas and the bike just about exploded under me. I went right through a fence, busted the bushes and scratched the hell out of my face. Somehow I put on the brake –- the bike was on its side. Peter ran in the yard to see if I was all right. I said, "Yeah; just help me pick it up.”

I put it in neutral and pushed it into the garage. He looked at me and questioned, “Hank, What are you going to do?”  I said, “I’ll get up in the morning and ride to school. We were young back then. It was 1963. I was 26 yrs.old. I got up the next day and started the bike.  Everything was fine.

I remembered the ad with Vince Scully and recalled he was wearing a short thigh length London Fog rain coat and had a briefcase on the back of the bike which was held in place with bungee cords. He wore a tan Ben Hogan style rain proof golf hat which I proceeded to order. The next morning, I drove the motorcycle down the South East Expressway, under the tunnel near the high rises of the city, over the Charles River Bridge into Cambridge and MIT.

There were three ways I got to the South East Expressway.  My favorite scenic route was via the Furnace Brook Golf Course.  I quickly became used to the workings and the idosynchrosies of the Bentley beauty. I could really go fast on the bike – up to 70 mph and it was a nice, sturdy, comfortable feeling.  It was not always comfortable, however, as during the  morning commute, I faced several scary corrugated metal bridges that had to be traversed at an angle.

I proceeded to drive the motorcycle for the next 2 years. I had purchased it in November of 1963 and drove it until June 1965.  I had my books in an expensive leather briefcase. I was taking meteorology at MIT with a professor that I had had before. Dr. Fred Sanders was one of the best Boston forecasters, and every day I would check with him to find out what the weather would be.  A couple of times I got stuck in a rain or snow storm, but, all in all, it worked out fine.

My father was furious with me.  He thought because I was married and had children that it was crazy for me to ride a motorcycle.  He was afraid I would kill myself. I reminded him that he once owned an Indian motorcycle when he was younger and asked him not to deny me my fun.

My oldest son, Mark, was almost four and loved to ride with me.I strapped him in front of me with a large belt. Once,we were attacked by a German Shepherd who kept biting my leg .  "Doggy,doggy”, Mark kept saying as the dog’s teeth sunk into my lower leg.  I couldn’t speed up or do a wheelie for fear of hurting my son. Finally, a neighbor ran out and pulled the dog off my leg.

I don’t think I ever had any other real problems. The gas mileage was great -– about 60 miles to a gallon. Gas at that time was cheap. I had a flat tire once, but it was an easy fix. All I had to do was remove one bolt, and the tire came right off. It did not even require removing the chain. It had a built-in jack. I just had to patch the tube.

The mechanics of the Honda were really spectacular. I could drive right into MIT directly to the base of the building, then right up the stairs to my class room. At the end of my tour, I sold the bike for $475. Can you imagine it only cost me $31 plus, gas and insurance for that motorcycle?  I used to ride some of my buddies on the back of the motorcycle going down the highway.

About halfway through my tour, I had moved from Quincy to the Hyde Park section of Boston.  This route had me driving down the Roslindale Turtle Pond Parkway with the trees overhanging like Peter O’Toole's opening scene ride in Lawrence of Arabia.  

   

Recently, I Googled T.E. Lawrence and was reminded that this

remarkable British Officer died six days after he was involved in

a motorcycle accident near his cottage in Dorset, England. 

  

If that information had been part of my decision-making process,

I might have had second thoughts about buying my 1963 Honda

Bentley Motorcycle.

  THE END   

THANKS TO WILK