MY FIRST GYPSY TOUR
Written by Henry N. Patterson
March 1993

A Gypsy Tour was usually a State or Regional Rally in the early days of Motorcycling. The idea was that you would ride to the location and probably would sleep out of doors and live a sort of Gypsy life without the begging or stealing. They were usually pretty well organized. We could expect food at noon and a field meet or some type of racing in the afternoon. A group of our riders in Colorado decided in 1936 to go on our first tour. We were all from Grand Junction and the tour was to be in Estes Park, Colorado. Vail Pass had not been built at that time so we had to either go through Leadville or take a northern route and go to Denver by the way of Berthoud Pass. We chose to go over Berthoud Pass. When we got to Topanos they told us the road over Gore Pass was closed because of a slide. It was either go back or take a long way around so we chose to try to go through the slide. It really wasn't bad for a group of motorcyclists. By helping each other we got through. A car could not have made it because of its width. On down the road and finally to Berthoud Pass. There my machine quit. It was an old 1931 74 that I had traded for. The hinge pin and screw that held the carburetor float in place had come out. Luck was with me because near by was an overnight camping spot where people with horses had stayed. I found a piece of bailing wire from the hay they had fed the horses and cut off a short piece and carved a screw out of a pine branch and was able to limp into Denver. There I got a screw and put it in tight.

We asked what was the best route from Denver to Estes Park and a rider said to follow him as he was just leaving. We were able to keep him in view as long as we were in the city but when we got out of Denver he was making foot board sparks at every turn. He was long gone for awhile. We finally caught up with him in South St. Verain Canyon with a broken throttle cable. We tried to help him there but he was about ready to leave. He had pulled the broken cable out and had it fixed so it was about half open. There he went using the switch key to slow down for the curves. Again we could not keep up. But again we caught up with him. This time he was resting at another camp ground like I had found on Berthoud Pass. I found another piece of bailing wire and convinced him that I could make a throttle wire for him. He said go ahead, probably thinking I couldn't do it, so I straightened the wire out by pulling it around a tree a couple of times. I then dipped some oil out of the tank and put it in for him. Then he was long gone without a thanks.

We got to Estes Park and wanted to know where and what. We were told there was to be a big bonfire and gab fest that night. We finally found the location but the evening did not amount to much. There was probably some beer drinking but mostly sitting around the fire. Some of guys from Denver had their girl friends with them. It was quite a sight to see some of them borrowing the Bull Durham from their friends and rolling their own cigarettes. The next morning was spent out at the ski jump hill trying to climb it. There were only two machines there that could make it. One was a new 61 inch and the other was a racing 30.50 overhead single. I would like to have that one now. There was quite a bit of entertainment there at the hill because the best way to get to the hill was on a path that went in front of a lady's house and lawn. She resented the motorcycles very much and got out her water hose and sprayed everyone who tried to go that way.

After lunch everyone went to the 1/2 mile track where they held "anything goes racing". The 30.50 single had no trouble winning every race but right behind him was the guy with the haywire throttle wire. It held together and I guess he got back to Denver. That was all at Estes Park and we had an uneventful ride home.