Chapter 18: Research in the Nude

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, or my sister and brother in law’s that is, we were busy building.

My brother in law was a genius in his own right when it came to building hot rods, motorcycles, things mechanical and you name it. But he and I were both dyslectic by nature. The nuns had to give me special tutoring when I was just starting grade school and I got to spend endless time with Dick and Jane. “See Jane,” said Dick, and vice versa.

For my part of it I was always drawing Disney characters in class which teachers seemed to appreciate, “My that’s really good but...” They wanted me to read. I got through it all although I’m sure once dyslectic, always dyslectic. My brother in law I believe was treated differently.

He never finished school, took off to live with a mentor on the far side of the island. He ended up in the Coast Guard which is how we all connected and he joined up because this alternative choice, handed to him by the magistrate, was jail. His father was politically well connected so it was the Coast Guard for him.

However, of all the siblings he was the most talented when it came to simply designing things in his head and creating. Others marveled. He was the brother I never had and he treated me like a true kid brother. I helped him with projects and I learned vast amounts including welding, metal fabrication, machine work, tool making and all things mechanical and automotive. And when becoming the biology major I dissected critters on his work bench which was a test of wills. I was deeply immersed in finding, studying my biology assignments, parasitic nematodes.

Building, yes, we were, but I was also disassembling the Kaneohe neighborhood population of large toads.

Down the dead end street in Kaneohe in his shop we built a dune buggy that won first place, beat the Meyers Manx car used in the Thomas Crown Affair movie with Steve Queen.

It was the hot rod show at the HIC, Honolulu International Center. The owner of the movie prop shipped it all the way over to Hawaii. We also won first place in category with a small three wheel trike completely revamped with a big Royal Enfield 500cc single engine. That same trike came to the mainland to win in every show it was entered in. Like mentioned above we were really busy.

We also crewed for the race winning flat bottom inboard boat belonging to a friend Freddie the state wide warehouse manager for a national auto parts chain. All of these connections were the result of my brother in law and his family, my local people by in law. And being close to the local community was truly integral in the Hawaiian experience.

I mentioned all of the above because my experience in Hawaii for a mainland Haole kid was quite different than most tourists. And Hawaii holds a very special place in my heart for many reasons.

I was indeed very busy, with school and work, my motorcycle love, flat track racer wannebe which got me run over by none other than my brother in law’s mentor while doing practice runs before a race. I had no business taking risks as poor as I was but was excited to try out a new track just built out beyond Pearl Harbor.

They took an area used for racing for years, just somewhat an impromptu course changing shape over time and was unofficial, entirely, a weekend spot gathering riders on all types of motorcycles. And because this was before or just on the cusp of the advent of popularization of European motocross there would be a hodge podge of people and bikes in no way matching to make sense racing. It was actually comical at to see.

Some guy would be trying to commandeer a big Harley hog over the jumps and curves as a Yamaha street bike would pass, also hardly race ready with turn signals and faring, all kinds of accessories flopping about. Service men from Pearl Harbor would bring their street bikes to the course and end up breaking them, crashing, ending their transportation back. But the impromptu races would even draw people from the mainland, National Number flat track riders like Dick Mann, champion number one, who came to ride with the guy who ran over me. And I first picked up the style of riding learned watching him ride on a new light weight bike made in Spain, the Bultaco, truly unlike anything seen before in the islands.

The new track was a quarter mile oval graded out on coral. It was because that happened to be the natural substrate. It made for great traction but not falling down. No one could race unless they wore leathers or two pairs of Levis. I didn’t own a pair of leather pants made for racing. That was expensive so I brought an extra pair of pants to put over my pants and I was ready. I started riding a few laps.

I wasn’t experienced enough at flat track in traffic to know I should have ridden outside instead of tight on turns to get used to it. After going around a couple of times I decided to dive for a corner not knowing who was behind me. Herby the top mechanic at the largest bike shop on the island and my brother in law’s mentor happened to be hot on my heels and we entered the corner with foolish me trying to take the inside. Next thing I knew my hot shoe was being kicked out from under me as two riders were going faster and I got run over splat which made shreds of my pants and my shoulder. I should mention my ego as well.

I was left with a broken collar bone and dislocated shoulder. My bike survived.

I got taught a lesson by a famous motorcycle racer and ended up a bit broken leaving me with a lifetime big lump on my shoulder and a slightly restricted rotation. But I was both happy to be alive and having made friends with him.

He took me under his wing as well, a real gentleman. He contacted my brother in law and invited him to bring me out to his place which was far up the dead end route to Makaha the famous surfing competition beach.

John lived with his wife and kids in Nanakuli remotely in a big house and a quonset hut left over from World War Two. He remembered my Triumph Cub and he had a Fairbanks Morse magneto that was machined specially to fit the engine. This was something quite unusual and a solution to my ever frustrating ignition system I constantly played with to keep the bike running. He sold it to me for a sum I remember wasn’t nearly enough but he insisted and I was thrilled.

And he was famous enough for his amazing riding skills but soon his older boys would become the riders he taught them to be. They became internationally known sponsored European motocross racers, Hawaiians racing on the continent. The legacy grew on and made their parents very proud.

My life in the islands evolved so quickly from my first arrival, the frightening bike ride with my brother in law, my education in the night life of Hotel street, The tawdry town experience of Pepo Auto Center, my initiation as a fishing lure literally in the hands of Siza, school and my education so broad with the most lovely girl I’d ever known, aside from Siza of course, and my eventual demise at the hands of my government being forced to leave Hawaii forever because of a war that was to prove fruitless and plainly evil.

And I also wanted to show Siza how fortunate I knew I was for her friendship.

Sure she was pretty crazy and she loved messing around with me like a first shock possessing me with sex I didn’t even think I’d heard of before. She even brought Linda into her circle of love play. This was so far different from my previous cloistered experiences in private school. That was not paradise but Hawaii was way so, more so, for me.

Time scampered through far too fast. I wanted to savor but life wouldn’t have it. The lot boy job became routine and productive. I chased the mosquito fish up and down the windward side of the island. It was slippery work and it was dangerous.