This is one of those mornings. My cursed mind is swimming with projects, options, calls, e-mails and to-dos. Fortunately I’m not in the middle of some mad romance and chasing women all over town. It’s the curse of the 21st century and our society. If the phone ain’t ringing, the e-mails are popping, the mail lady just left a stack of junk mail, the television is blaring, cell phone vibrating, the FAX machine is turning out crap or someone is banging on the door. It’s the information age or the hex on our time. Remember back about 25 years when the garage didn’t have a phone and Jimi Hendrix rocked while we worked in the shop.

Maybe someone stopped over with a six-pack and a doobie and we tinkered on our latest project until the wee hours, then rode to Denny’s for pancakes, or across town and crawled in her apartment window. Rick Montani, the builder of this bike, took me back to those times. He’s nearing my age, so we went through many similar life’s changes. He’s 54. He was the good guy, I went astray. He stuck with his family and slipped away from the torrid nights, brawls and bitches I encountered, but we’ll get to that.

He grew up near Indianapolis, Indiana, in Greenfield, and at 19 years old he bought his first motorcycle, a ’67 Triumph and fucked with it for a year, before he bought a ’63 Panhead, in ’72, and started over with the FL Duo Glide. At a young age he straddled the glide and hit it to the annual Lake Holiday Run. The classic Pan sported a tall metal-flake gold seat with a silver “S,” stitched in the center, for Sanford, the previous owner. “It was tuck and roll,” Rick said. But on that hot Indiana summer day on his way home, heading back into Indianapolis on Highway 65, he burnt up his generator. “A guy pulled over in a truck and we decided to tow the bike up to speed and see if it would start again.” He got rolling and dropped it into first gear. The rear tire locked up, he lost control, hit a highway sign and went down. Fortunately his dad and brother worked at a body shop.

In 1975 he slipped on the bonds of marriage and sold the Harley. For 15-20 years he flew low to the ground, only riding a couple of Jap bikes and building a ’49 Merc Pro Street. While taking his two kids to ballgames, I stood behind club houses and smoked weed, pretended to be married five times and drank too much whiskey. While he attended graduations and holiday celebrations I lived with another five women briefly and split lanes across Los Angeles to every cool party in the city.

But this lifestyle never quite leaves a man’s blood and in ’97 he bought a ’77 Super glide with a wide glide front end. “I took it to the ground and built a chop,” Rick said. He was back in the fold. His hair grew some and his beard returned but it was on the gray side. In 2000 he hooked it to Biketoberfest and was caught by Hank Young’s display. “I wanted to build a bobber and he had a rolling chassis, but he wouldn’t return customer calls, so I pursued the project on my own.”

Rick started with an old Triumph front wheel and a Dago Red notion. “The picture on back of the tank is my pop, Marshall, in full flight suit from 1943,” Rick said. “He flew a P47 Thunderbolt in WWII. He passed away in 1995, and this scoot is a tribute to his memory. He was a 5’2” Italian American. He loved the big band era and especially cheap red wine like “Chianti.” That’s how I came up with the name Dago Red.”

Rick finished powder coating and lacing the wheels, with the help of Buchanan’s, prior to buying the Paughco frame. It was the Christmas of 2004 when he snatched the stock configuration wishbone frame and a Susuki rear brake system and started to build this bike devoted to his dad.

Some eight months later he wandered into a friends garage and bought a ’77 bagger project never destined for completion. “It’s for sale,” his friend said. “I’ll never finish it.” Rick sold the roller and used the engine and trans in Dago Red. He handled the top end and a local shop rebuilt the lower-end. He bought a Mikuni carb on Ebay and dug up a car Stromberg carb air cleaner and modified it for the Mukini. He made the pipes. “The front one took a half hour,” Rick said, “and the rear took two hours.”

“I wanted to build another bike,” Rick said, who is now an Engine Failure Analyst for International trucks. He used a ’36 spare tire cover for his fenders and a Triumph gas tank. When the bike was finished he hauled it to the Easyriders Columbus mega-show and took 3rd place in the Speciality category within the Judged class. He putts it around town, but rode his ’98 Road King to Sturgis last year. “I’ve got a MIG welder,” Rick said of his building talents, “but I can stick stuff together better with bubble gum.” It took him just 16 month to complete the Dago Red.

--Bandit

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