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| Moto Madness, August 2003 by Don Cutts |
| Ottawa Section CVMG |
It had only been a short while since our Ormstown excursion and already I was getting restless to go on
another junket. I called up Shiny Bob Booth one day and found out that the Shiny Twins, meaning both he
and Super Shiny Bob Ethier, had a trip to Moto Montreal Cycle planned .
To clarify things further, Super Shiny Bob’s name is actually spelled ‘Shynee’. He was christened this some
years ago as he was motoring through Nevada on his 1974 Police Harley. He had just walked out of a bar in
a little dirt town when he saw an old Indian Medicine Man being bothered by several unsavoury characters
from a motorcycle gang. He roared down the dusty main street with the siren on full blast , grabbed old
Poonawakee, pulling him over the rear carrier and off they roared. A half hour chase ensued over rutted
roads and hairpin bends, with the gang’s machines either blowing up or going off the road. There are few
riders who can handle a large machine like Shynee Bob. Oh, you can brag all you like about your riding skill
but until you prove it in a mortal situation, we’re not listening. Poonawakee took Bob up to his tribe’s land
and Bob was the big man in the village that evening. The tribal chief christened Bob ‘Shynee’, a great mark
of respect only bestowed on heroic members of the Shynee Shona tribe. But in local circles, the boys are
known as ‘Shiny’ as they have the cleanest motorbikes and carry sterilized polishing cloths, at all times.
To resume, Shiny Bob and I met at seven in the morning and rode over to Super Shiny’s place. Mild
mannered Dave Linkletter had been invited but declined on the grounds that it was going to rain.. In fact,
forecasts were downright gloomy. Dave opined that it was absolute madness to go under such conditions.
“Yes”, I said , ‘but we’re going anyway’. Soon we were on old Highway 17, Triumph Trident, Bonneville and
Harley, all purring in harmony. The odd drop of rain fell here and there. We stopped in Alfred at the Shiny
Twins favourite diner. It being closed at 8:00 a.m., a discussion ensued over the holiday closings in Ontario
and whether we were still in Ontario or Quebec. We all agreed on Ontario and drove on, amazed to find that
a café down the main street was open. Once again on the road, we enjoyed a light and refreshing shower for
about ten minutes. The miles rolled by and the clouds came and went harmlessly. Soon we came to the
border and Highway 20 where we upped the speed somewhat. Super Shiny Bob on his Trident became
impatient and went by us at high speed from time to time. We lectured him about the black smoke he was
making at large throttle openings. We suggested that he babied his machine too much. Upon more of the
same performances for the whole trip, it looked like he needed new main jets and needles.
Our luck ran out in the suburbs of Montreal. A torrential downpour forced us under a viaduct where we spent
the next twenty five minutes. There was so much water on the road and in the air that a wave of mist washed
over us with every vehicle that passed. I watched carefully for any signs of polishing cloths being pulled out.
None were at this time. Then, the sun came out and we were headed for St. Therese where Super Shiny’s
friend, the separatist, runs a small motorcycle shop, mostly British. Posters and badges on the walls were
original items from the fifties and sixties ! We let Super Shiny do the talking as the owner did not speak
English. I bought a small Triumph cloth patch that hadn’t moved from the wall in 35 years. Super Shiny got
heck from the owner for not ordering certain parts from him . I think it could have had something to do with SS
Bob Ethier calling the owner Mario when that wasn’t his name at all. It was Lucien.
It was still early in the day when we got to Moto Montreal. Sue and Chris were in the middle of a family
discussion as we burst in waving money and demanding service. We soon got rid of the other customer and
Super Shiny trotted out his Trident parts list. He had a bankroll that would choke a canal horse. We were
taken aback when after spending lavishly, he ordered the pièce de résistance, the highly polished and
expensive rear sprocket. There would be wine and steak on the table that night at the Stewart residence! In
the middle of all this excitement, it started to rain. Bob Booth ran out to get his things but I had left my leather
jacket closed on the saddle. After five minutes, I noticed that this was no mere rainstorm. Bathtubs of water
were coming down by the second. I ran to get my coat and came back in the shop ten seconds later,
drenched.
Then it was my turn to order and I was surprised with some of the items for a Gold Star and Velocette
actually being in stock. Hagon shocks for my Velo were gleaming in the box. Moto Madness was proving to
be a good thing. Bob Booth made some small purchases for his BSA Thunderbolt, safe back home.
All this spending took its toll and we needed to eat. Leaving the shop was out of the question so we went to
the phone book. We couldn’t find the restaurant we had in mind in the directory so we looked for the pizzeria
down the street. It was impossible to decipher the Montreal Directory. Even Bill the mechanic was stumped.
Sue kindly offered us her car and we went off and ordered the special at Central Pizza, two blocks away. We
brought back enough pizza and drinks to feed us, the staff and half the block. We got to watch Bill replace
the front end on a Triumph Tiger. Life is good on Moto Madness days.
By six o’clock, the rain stopped and we said our goodbyes. The streets were streaming with water. The
Twins pulled stacks of dry polishing cloths from somewhere and began to dry and polish. Bob Ethier
explained that it was just so the water wouldn’t fly up in the face while riding. After a minute or so, I got caught
up in the excitement and dabbed tentatively at my mirrors with a damp Kleenex. It felt good! After I dried out
the ounces of water that my spark plugs were marinating in, I fired up and we were on our way.
One cannot imagine the feeling of being stuck in Montreal rush hour traffic on a hot and humid day, on a
hot motorcycle. One must experience this firsthand. This is where the hardy types in the Montreal Chapter ,
like John Gurr, get their toughness. Please avoid this situation if you decide on a Moto Madness excursion.
We finally got out of the suburbs and into the clean air. Halfway home, the temperature dropped somewhat.
We stopped at our new favourite café in Alfred again, where we had either an ice cream or a milkshake for
supper. Bob Booth’s Harley had a clutch problem, which at first glance seemed to be a stretched cable. A
cable adjustment gave him enough pull to continue. The problem was that the thrust bearing for the pushrod
inside the gearbox outer cover had failed . He got home all right and fixed it soon after. My Triumph lost a tail
light filament and Bob Ethier’s Trident was trouble free – and shiny!
We had a good Moto Madness day.
another junket. I called up Shiny Bob Booth one day and found out that the Shiny Twins, meaning both he
and Super Shiny Bob Ethier, had a trip to Moto Montreal Cycle planned .
To clarify things further, Super Shiny Bob’s name is actually spelled ‘Shynee’. He was christened this some
years ago as he was motoring through Nevada on his 1974 Police Harley. He had just walked out of a bar in
a little dirt town when he saw an old Indian Medicine Man being bothered by several unsavoury characters
from a motorcycle gang. He roared down the dusty main street with the siren on full blast , grabbed old
Poonawakee, pulling him over the rear carrier and off they roared. A half hour chase ensued over rutted
roads and hairpin bends, with the gang’s machines either blowing up or going off the road. There are few
riders who can handle a large machine like Shynee Bob. Oh, you can brag all you like about your riding skill
but until you prove it in a mortal situation, we’re not listening. Poonawakee took Bob up to his tribe’s land
and Bob was the big man in the village that evening. The tribal chief christened Bob ‘Shynee’, a great mark
of respect only bestowed on heroic members of the Shynee Shona tribe. But in local circles, the boys are
known as ‘Shiny’ as they have the cleanest motorbikes and carry sterilized polishing cloths, at all times.
To resume, Shiny Bob and I met at seven in the morning and rode over to Super Shiny’s place. Mild
mannered Dave Linkletter had been invited but declined on the grounds that it was going to rain.. In fact,
forecasts were downright gloomy. Dave opined that it was absolute madness to go under such conditions.
“Yes”, I said , ‘but we’re going anyway’. Soon we were on old Highway 17, Triumph Trident, Bonneville and
Harley, all purring in harmony. The odd drop of rain fell here and there. We stopped in Alfred at the Shiny
Twins favourite diner. It being closed at 8:00 a.m., a discussion ensued over the holiday closings in Ontario
and whether we were still in Ontario or Quebec. We all agreed on Ontario and drove on, amazed to find that
a café down the main street was open. Once again on the road, we enjoyed a light and refreshing shower for
about ten minutes. The miles rolled by and the clouds came and went harmlessly. Soon we came to the
border and Highway 20 where we upped the speed somewhat. Super Shiny Bob on his Trident became
impatient and went by us at high speed from time to time. We lectured him about the black smoke he was
making at large throttle openings. We suggested that he babied his machine too much. Upon more of the
same performances for the whole trip, it looked like he needed new main jets and needles.
Our luck ran out in the suburbs of Montreal. A torrential downpour forced us under a viaduct where we spent
the next twenty five minutes. There was so much water on the road and in the air that a wave of mist washed
over us with every vehicle that passed. I watched carefully for any signs of polishing cloths being pulled out.
None were at this time. Then, the sun came out and we were headed for St. Therese where Super Shiny’s
friend, the separatist, runs a small motorcycle shop, mostly British. Posters and badges on the walls were
original items from the fifties and sixties ! We let Super Shiny do the talking as the owner did not speak
English. I bought a small Triumph cloth patch that hadn’t moved from the wall in 35 years. Super Shiny got
heck from the owner for not ordering certain parts from him . I think it could have had something to do with SS
Bob Ethier calling the owner Mario when that wasn’t his name at all. It was Lucien.
It was still early in the day when we got to Moto Montreal. Sue and Chris were in the middle of a family
discussion as we burst in waving money and demanding service. We soon got rid of the other customer and
Super Shiny trotted out his Trident parts list. He had a bankroll that would choke a canal horse. We were
taken aback when after spending lavishly, he ordered the pièce de résistance, the highly polished and
expensive rear sprocket. There would be wine and steak on the table that night at the Stewart residence! In
the middle of all this excitement, it started to rain. Bob Booth ran out to get his things but I had left my leather
jacket closed on the saddle. After five minutes, I noticed that this was no mere rainstorm. Bathtubs of water
were coming down by the second. I ran to get my coat and came back in the shop ten seconds later,
drenched.
Then it was my turn to order and I was surprised with some of the items for a Gold Star and Velocette
actually being in stock. Hagon shocks for my Velo were gleaming in the box. Moto Madness was proving to
be a good thing. Bob Booth made some small purchases for his BSA Thunderbolt, safe back home.
All this spending took its toll and we needed to eat. Leaving the shop was out of the question so we went to
the phone book. We couldn’t find the restaurant we had in mind in the directory so we looked for the pizzeria
down the street. It was impossible to decipher the Montreal Directory. Even Bill the mechanic was stumped.
Sue kindly offered us her car and we went off and ordered the special at Central Pizza, two blocks away. We
brought back enough pizza and drinks to feed us, the staff and half the block. We got to watch Bill replace
the front end on a Triumph Tiger. Life is good on Moto Madness days.
By six o’clock, the rain stopped and we said our goodbyes. The streets were streaming with water. The
Twins pulled stacks of dry polishing cloths from somewhere and began to dry and polish. Bob Ethier
explained that it was just so the water wouldn’t fly up in the face while riding. After a minute or so, I got caught
up in the excitement and dabbed tentatively at my mirrors with a damp Kleenex. It felt good! After I dried out
the ounces of water that my spark plugs were marinating in, I fired up and we were on our way.
One cannot imagine the feeling of being stuck in Montreal rush hour traffic on a hot and humid day, on a
hot motorcycle. One must experience this firsthand. This is where the hardy types in the Montreal Chapter ,
like John Gurr, get their toughness. Please avoid this situation if you decide on a Moto Madness excursion.
We finally got out of the suburbs and into the clean air. Halfway home, the temperature dropped somewhat.
We stopped at our new favourite café in Alfred again, where we had either an ice cream or a milkshake for
supper. Bob Booth’s Harley had a clutch problem, which at first glance seemed to be a stretched cable. A
cable adjustment gave him enough pull to continue. The problem was that the thrust bearing for the pushrod
inside the gearbox outer cover had failed . He got home all right and fixed it soon after. My Triumph lost a tail
light filament and Bob Ethier’s Trident was trouble free – and shiny!
We had a good Moto Madness day.