Me and this old panhead have been out here on the road for about five years now. I didn’t start out on her, I did have a ’02 Wideglide that I picked up after coming home from a deployment. Nah I think I had been on the road for about 6 months when I rolled into this little old town in Mississippi. I was passing through; I think the town had one stop light, when I noticed an old man loading bags of some kind of seed onto his truck. He looked to be in his late 70′s or early 80′s and was struggling with the bags. I decided to stop and lend a hand, maybe I would get a bite to eat at the little cafe just across the street when I was through. I pulled in front of his old flatbed Ford and walked to the side and grabbed a bag of cottonseed and started loading. It took us another 30 minutes to get it all loaded. The old man looked at me, stuck out his hand, and said his name was Frank, Frank Hindle. I shook his hand and told him mine and turned to go. He called after me and said thanks and asked if I would like to come to his house for a bite to eat. I was fairly hungry by now and a free meal always sounds good and it keeps me from digging into my road money. I also figured he needed some help unloading the truck. I mounted up and followed him out to his farm. It was out about 10 miles from town down a hard packed clay road. His house was of the style I had dreamed of living in when I was a younger man. White two story, wood siding, with a porch that wrapped around the house on three sides. It also had a tire swing hanging from an Oak that looked to be a couple of hundred years old. The house sat on a small rise, probably the tallest hill for miles but that wasn’t saying much there in the delta area. Frank pulled the truck over to the barn, opened the barn doors and backed the truck in. I parked the bike under the tree and went on in the barn and helped unload the seed. It took us another 30 minutes or so to unload and then we went inside. He asked me if some warmed up cornbread, pinto beans, and fried potatoes was fine and of course being from the south that sounded like a feast to me. While it was warming up he explained that he didn’t get many guests. It was just him now a days so he usually cooked enough to last a few days and would keep the leftovers in the ice box until they were gone. We sat and talked through lunch and he told me that he would start planting next week and was trying to get everything ready. I asked him where his help was and he told me he had been doing it all himself for the past 10 years. He only had about 100 acres that he worked so he really hadn’t needed anyone else until recently and he said he was a little too stubborn to ask for any help. I took that as my queue and asked if he would mind taking me on. I told him I wouldn’t eat much or take up too much space and I worked cheap. Not really sure which he liked most, the thought of some help or a little company but his eyes lit up a little and he agreed to giving me a job. He got up and showed me to a little room with a twin bed inside and told me I could sleep there. Heck, I would have been happy with a dry spot in the barn after sleeping on the ground for the last six months. This would give me a little time to do some much needed maintenance on the Dyna and work up a little kitty to help me stay on the road for a little while.

The next day was an early start; we were going to do a little work on the equipment to help it make it through another growing season. Most of it looked to be over 30 years old but in great shape. Frank said he had no need for new stuff when he could just take care of what he had. We commenced to changing the oil filter, fuel filters, and greasing up anything that needed it. After a couple of days all of it was ready to turn ground. While we were in the barn working I noticed an old army surplus tarp covering up something that might just be a bike. I asked if he minded if I was nosy and checked it out and he told me to go ahead. I went over, pulled the tarp back to a 1952 FLF (panhead) in Persian red. Now we all dream of stumbling upon a “barn find” like this but I never imagined I would. With all of the custom chopper guy shows and everything surrounding the motorcycle world you would think they would all be gone. All you would have left is listening to your old man tell about the bike he had back in the day. Now I know I didn’t find it, hell it wasn’t lost but to see that old iron there covered in dust, rust, and a few scrapes was probably one of the most beautiful things I had seen in a while. I asked frank if he minded if I “freshen” it up and get it running. He nodded his head and said sure go ahead and turned to go to the house. That night at supper Frank was quiet, I figured he was just tired and before you know it he decided to turn in early. Over the next week or so we got the ground prepped for seed and I had the bike tore down. I spent most nights working on that bike during my time there. I would usually head out to the barn and work on it after Frank had turned in for the night. It was a little hard on me at first because we got such an early start but after a while I got used to it. I knew our evening talks were good for Frank, heck they may have even been good for me. The man who listens will sometimes learn a thing or two. Over the course of the growing season I must have cleaned every thread, chased every bolt hole and nut, stripped the paint off of every part, and replaced any wires that I could find. The motor was in fairly good shape inside. I replaced the rings and gaskets and then buttoned it back up. The transmission just needed a quick run through because it had set up so long but all in all the gears still looked new. The only things that were in bad shape on the bike were the cables and the carburetor. Once the cables were replaced and the carb rebuilt it was time to rattle can the tins and frame. Through the whole build Frank stayed out of the barn. He and I had started to get pretty close. He reminded me a lot of my grandfather who had passed about 20 years earlier. He was a man who bore the scars life had given him with honor and wasn’t ashamed of the choices he had made. Frank met and married his wife in 1950 and then a few months later went off to Korea to fight. When he returned he purchased the farm and had been working the land ever since. Harvest was finally upon us and we worked night and day to get the cotton up and to the gin. After a week of going back and forth from the fields to the gin there wasn’t a white speck to be seen where just a week prior the fields had looked as though they were covered in snow. Frank was able to sell all of the cotton for a fair price and we went into town for a little celebrating. We went to a little place just on the edge of town, Frank said the food was good and the beer was cold. Kind of surprised me a little, the whole time I was at his place I hadn’t seen him take a sip of anything with alcohol in it. Come to think of it, I hadn’t had a drop the whole time I was there. We enjoyed the meal, a whole catfish with a side of hushpuppies and home made slaw with a nice large mug of home brew. This wasn’t some microbrew; it was just a good cold beer. As we rode home we talked a little about fishing and the weather. I was kind of thinking it was time for me to move on but I really wasn’t ready to tell him, maybe after we went fishing the next day I would break it to him. We made plans to get an early start and head down to a little bend in the river and then we turned in for the night. That next morning I woke up a little late. Usually by 4 Frank would have some ham or bacon frying in a pan and a pot of coffee on the stove. With those smells you just couldn’t lay in bed long. Here it was 6 A.M. and there weren’t any of those great smells coming from the kitchen. I went down and Frank was no where to be seen. Maybe that beer affected him than he thought it would. I went and knocked on his door and called through the door joking “get up old man, those fish aren’t going to catch themselves”. I went on back down stairs and got breakfast on and the coffee boiling. After about 30 minutes passed and the table was set with the food getting cold I figured I would go try and get Frank up again thinking that beer must have really done a number on him. I knocked on the door and didn’t get an answer. I knocked again and pushed the door open. He wasn’t stirring an inch and a feeling of dread and sorrow washed over me. I went over to the bed and felt for a pulse while leaning over to see if I could feel breath on my cheek or the see the rise and fall of his chest. All of that wasn’t really necessary though, as soon as I touched his wrist I could feel his body was cold .I sat down in the chair beside his bed not believing my eyes for a few minutes. I never seen it coming, I know he was getting up there in age but he seemed strong. While getting up to go call the ambulance (hell I didn’t know who to call) I saw an envelope on his nightstand with my name on it. Inside was a rather large check made out to me and a letter.

Wayne,

I want to thank you for the last 6 months you have been here working. It was nice to have another person around to talk to. Since the wife passed years ago it has been just me. We were married 49 years when she passed on and it looks like it is time for me to join her and my boy.

After reading that line I was a little surprised and confused. The whole summer he had never talked about having any children much less a son.

I continued to read; My son was born in ’51 while I was in Korea. He grew up strong and when he turned 18 and graduated High School he picked that Harley up for a song. He spent the summer fixing it up and got to ride it for about a month before he got drafted. By November he was in the jungles of Vietnam as an 11B (Infantry) like his old man. In March he was starting to look forward to coming home when his platoon was ambushed. His mom and I had to do what all parents fear the most, bury their child. That bike sat in the barn under that tarp until you came along and uncovered it. It would honor my son’s memory if you would take that bike. I know you will take care of it. The sparkle I seen in your eyes when you uncovered it was the same I seen in his when he first got it home. I have also left you the money from the yield this year. Maybe it will help you stay on the road long enough to help you figure out the problem you are trying to solve. Along with that you can have the rest of this old junk including the house and land, I don’t need it anymore. Do what you need to do with it but don’t feel obligated to it. I have no one else to leave it to. You can go see the lawyer in town, Robert Hansen; he has my will on file.

Take care,

Frank Hindle

By the time I was through reading the letter I had a few tears rolling down my cheek. It took half the day before the lump in my throat had cleared. The next day I made the arrangements for him to be laid to rest beside his wife and by the end of the week he was where he belonged with his wife and son at his side. I found a buyer for my Dyna, a man only has one ass, and it’s hard to ride two bikes at the same time. I settled all of Frank’s affairs; he had no debt so it was fairly easy. I donated the house to a local women’s shelter but I decided to hold on to the land and equipment. A local would be farming the land in return for him paying the taxes and keeping an eye on things. You never know I may just need it all one day