I was stationed in Fayetteville, North Carolina in 1979 while I was in the Air Force.
One of my friends was a fellow from New York named Mark Degroat, who rode a beautiful 650 BSA Lightning. It was the first time I had been friends with anyone that rode a British twin. I was enthralled with the look and the sound, and it rekindled the motorcyclist within me. Having been stationed at various remote communication sites in Europe for the last few years, I never got the chance to go two-wheeling, but now I just had to find something to ride! Knowing it was my last assignment of my 6 year enlistment and I wouldn’t be going overseas again, I started looking for a motorcycle to play with. I couldn’t really afford a BSA or Triumph at that time, nor did I have any experience with British bikes. Through someone on base I ended up buying a poor-looking 65-ish Honda 305 Superhawk (also known as a CB77 by Honda.) It was ugly, it barely ran, and was missing the mufflers, had the wrong seat and gas tank on it, and was missing lots of other things as well. I have no idea what I paid, but I’m sure it was very little.
As you can see, no side covers, air cleaners, lights, wrong forks and front fender—it was quite a list. Because of the condition of the bike and the fact that I like everything to be operational (I’m kinda anal that way), I spent a lot of time going to visit the Honda dealership in downtown Fayetteville. The main man in the parts department was called Red. He was a pretty good-sized feller, and he knew his way around old Honda’s. One day I had stopped by after something I needed or wanted, only to be told by Red that it was no longer available.
“Tell you what,” he said, scribbling on a piece of paper, “here’s the address to a building ‘cross town where we store and assemble bikes that come in from the factory. You go there and talk to a man named Eddie. He runs the place. He might have what you’re looking for.”
I drove over and found the warehouse easily, and as I got out of my car he came walking out. I don’t know if Eddie was the only employee there or not, but I didn’t see anyone else. Eddie wasn’t a big guy, and he seemed pretty friendly. It was pretty obvious by the color of his face that Eddie was a drinking man. I explained the scenario to him, telling him that Red sent me over. I was not prepared for what came next though...
Inside this warehouse space were rows of older motorcycles. There had to be a hundred of them in there at least! I was in awe. I asked Eddie what the story was, and he told me that they were all motorcycles that had ended up there from Vietnam soldiers and airmen that never came back from the war, and bikes that were repossessed for one reason or another. There were Harley’s, BSA’s, Triumphs, Honda’s—you name it, all covered in years of dust.
“I’m in the market for parts for a 305 Superhawk,” I told Eddie. “I need a bunch of parts, so I was hoping to find something fairly complete.”
“Yeah, Bo,” he said, leading me down one of the rows, “I think we’ve got one over here.” (I believe he called everyone “Bo.”)
There were actually a few of them to pick from. At first I eyeballed one that was complete, but being kinda chickenshit I decided not to jump in with both feet and ask about buying the nicest one in the house. I mean, who the hell was I anyway? Just a 23 year-old punk kid that wandered in off the street. He didn’t know me from Adam. I pointed to a rough-looking semi-whole bike that caught my eye because it had a good seat, gas tank, and even had a hard-to-find lift handle on the left rear of the frame that allowed its rider to easily lift it up onto the center stand. I asked him what the possibility was of me buying the whole bike. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then he said, “Sure, Bo, how’s 40 bucks?” I shook his hand. “Deal.”
I went out to the car and grabbed my bumper-mounted motorcycle carrier hoops and hooked them on and we loaded the bike into them.
I couldn’t believe my good fortune. That old parts bike had a lot of the things that I needed to put my junker that much closer to being legal and ready to ride, such as the already-noted seat and gas tank, and other goodies like the whole front end and passenger foot pegs. Hell, my bike didn’t even have a center stand before, let alone that lift handle I mentioned.
I told Mark all about it the next day at work, adding that I wanted to go back and ask Eddie about the nice Superhawk I saw in there that day. The two of us went back to see him a couple days later.
I kept telling him about the place as we drove, and when we got there he was just as amazed as I was when he saw what the warehouse contained. I introduced him to Eddie, and then headed over to that near complete 305 I had my eyes on during my first visit. There were stars in Mark’s eyes when he spotted a matching 650 BSA to the one he owned. His BSA was already in beautiful shape, and needed very little, but one of the things he did need was a pair of rear shocks. Up until that time he had not been able to find any shocks for it and had been riding with chrome steel struts in place of them. That’s a hard ride. He negotiated the purchase of the shocks and started unbolting them. Meanwhile, I was eyeballing that nearly complete Superhawk. I just had to have that bike. The mufflers alone almost gave me heart palpitations. Eddie had no titles to any of the bikes, but I didn’t care. I didn’t need a title—I just wanted all the parts I could get my hands on.
When I asked Eddie about the complete bike I wanted, I didn’t think he’d sell it to me. To my surprise he did his usual pause for effect, likely figuring we were a couple of cash cows, wondering what he could stick us for.
“That’s a pretty nice bike there, Bo. I’d have to get a hunnerd for that one.”
I paid him happily and we loaded up. On the way home we were giggling like schoolgirls about the whole deal. We decided from that day on that we would call him Fast Eddie.
I talked to Mark the next day and he was in heaven, riding his BSA with rear shocks for the first time ever.
I transplanted almost everything except the engine from those bikes I bought onto the one I already owned and had licensed. It was like I had an instant restoration. Seat, mufflers, everything. I was still working out in the barracks parking lot at this time, so I didn’t have any storage other than my giant 69 Ford station wagon road cruiser, so I had to actually put old parts back on the non-running bikes just to keep them secure.
The next time we went to visit Fast Eddie was strictly for Mark’s benefit. He wanted to see about a complete bike he had seen on our first visit—A pre-unit (separate engine and transmission) 57 Triumph that was complete. Again, Eddie told him it was going to have to be “a hunnerd” for the whole thing. (I doubt he knew the value of anything there.) Mark was so excited he about tore his pocket getting the cash out. As he was paying him, he said, “Eddie, I don’t know if you’re getting anything out of this deal, but here’s an extra hundred for you,” he said, handing him a stack of bills. Eddie looked pleased as punch, “Well thanks, Bo.” We both knew nobody but Eddie was ever going to see any of that money, but Mark was so beside himself he probably would have given him the shirt off his back to get that Triumph for a measly hundred dollars.
I went back to see Fast Eddie one last time, and like before, I knew what I was after. This time it was for a metalflake green (ugh!) Honda CL77, also known as a 305 scrambler. It was in great shape, and even had hard-to-find “Snuff-or-nots” on the exhaust pipes.
Again, Fast Eddie went home with booze money. Here’s what it looked like when I brought it home:
It didn’t take much to get it running other than cleaning the carburetors out and putting some new gas in it, and it ran great. And that sound!
Here’s what it looked like after I put new skins on it:
I loved that bike even more than the Superhawk. Unfortunately, it was stolen from me after I got out of the service.
Here are a few of the later shots of my Superhawk after I finished wrenching on it:
God, I wish I could go back there and visit Fast Eddie.
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