SUMMER 1936
MY FIRST GYPSY TOUR
Written by Henry N. Patterson

Back then a rally like this was called a Gypsy Tour and most every state had one. They were probably called that because you had to live somewhat like a Gypsy. Why, because there were no Holiday Inns, Super 8s or what ever kind of motels we have now. You probably had a blanket rolled up behind your seat or maybe just a tarp. If there was a motel it would be a small cabin or a converted barn or chicken coup. I know I stayed in one.

Well anyway five or six of us decided to go to the Colorado Tour to be held in Estes Park. For some reason we decided to go by the way of Berthod Pass instead of Tennessee Pass which would take us through Leadville. We started out on Highway 24 and turned north at Wolcott and then taking Gore Pass over to Berthoud Pass. We stopped at the Gore turn off for gas and they told us the road was closed by a big mud slide. Telling a bunch of young guys on motorcycles that a little mud slide has closed the road was a challenge. We did not want to go the extra 80 or so miles to get around it. Sure enough there was a slide about 150 or 200 feet in length with a lot of rocks. It would stop all cars and trucks but not a group of hardy riders. On to Berthoud Pass. Remember this was in 1936 and the roads maybe had gravel but no Black Top or pavement. There was some pavement around major cities.

To digress a little I was riding a 1931 Harley 74. When we first talked about this I had a new 1936 4 speed 80. A real nice bike. In the mean time I had been to California and while there I went to Rich Budelier's Harley Shop which was at that time the largest dealership in the world. It was there that I saw the new Harley 61 OHV. It was so innovative at the time that I just had to have one. As soon as I got home I ordered one and put my 80 up for sale. I got the 1931 in trade. The 61s were so well accepted that it was several months before I got mine and in the meantime the Gypsy Tour was being held.

Finally we reached Berthoud and my machine started getting lazy from altitude sickness. Two clicks on the old Shebler carburetor high speed needle and we were off again. About a half an hour later it lost all power. It turned out that the screw holding the float pin had vibrated out along with the hinge pin and let the carburetor flood. Dead machine at about 950 feet and the Denver Harley shop a long way off. Thank goodness I was born with the knack of being able to fix things with what was available. Back then there were still a lot of wagons being used by the farmers and ranchers and they used the same roads. Because of their horsepower they had to have hay along for feed. Often on the roads there would be what we call pull offs. These were places where they could pull off the road to rest their horses or make camp over night. The hay they had with them was the old squared bales and it was held together with baling wire or haywire as some called it. Luck was with me. I found a piece of baling wire and a short piece of it made a hinge pin. On the road again and on to Denver where we visit Giff Henderson's Harley shop and got the right piece back in the carburetor.

We stayed in Denver overnight and back to the shop the next morning to find out the best route to Estes Park. We were in luck a rider said follow him as that was where he was going. It wasn't long that we found out he was a much better rider than we were. He was turning the corners so fast that he was dragging the foot boards on every one. We could not keep up. We were on the right route though as when we got to the South Saint Verain canyon road we caught up with him. He had broken a throttle cable. He was about ready to go. He had pulled out the broken cable and was going to start the bike and hold the throttle about half way open and use the ignition key to slow down for the many turns. Off he went on this gravel road and left us again. It wasn't long that we caught up with HIM AGAIN. Reaching for the ignition key had made him tired. It just happened that he had stopped at another pull off. I looked around and found another piece of bailing wire and told him that I thought I could make him a throttle wire out of it. He was so tired that he consented. I pulled the wire around a tree until I had it pretty straight and with a bit of oil out of the oil tank I installed it for him. Off he went and we did not see him until the next afternoon. For those of you who do not know the old bikes had a solid wire that went down through the handlebar and then through the housing to the carburetor.

We followed and finally got to Estes Park. We inquired around and found out that the entertainment of the evening was to be a big bonfire out at the Ski Jump Hill. We, of course, went because there was nothing else to do. I suppose there was some beer but I don't remember seeing any. Back then it would have been in bottles and the small saddle bags we had then were not big enough to pack beer in them. Besides the roads were too rough. The best entertainment of the evening was watching the girl friends of some of the Denver riders try to roll their own cigarettes out of their boy friends Bull Durham. How many of you know what Bull Durham is? It was a small bag of cheap tobacco with a drawstring to close it and a little pack of cigarette papers to roll around the tobacco. It probably cost 10 cents or less while tailor made then cost about 15 or 20 cents a pack. There was no sin tax then. The cowboys all smoked Bill Durham and could roll and light a cigarette while riding. The next morning everyone that wanted could play on the ski jump. It wasn't that big of a hill but my old 31 couldn't make it. A new 61 was there and could make it with no trouble. There was a new overhead Harley racing single that easily flew over it. The best entertainment at the hill was a lady next door. She apparently hated motorcycles. The way to the hill was a path in front of her place and when she found out that there was a lot of motorcycles going by she would turn water on them. VENGEANCE. The afternoon entertainment was to be at the Fair Grounds. Not much organization but anyone who wanted to race could regardless of what kind or size of bike you had. All the races were won by the guy with a new OHV Single with no trouble. However, right behind him was the guy with the hay wire throttle. It was still working and I was still waiting to be thanked for fixing it.

The ride home was uneventful but a lot of good memories with more Gypsy Tours to come.