Walter

Who is Walter, and why should I even be writing about him? Well first off, Walter is a good friend of mine, and I've known him for more than half my life now. Like me, he too had been bitten by the motorcycle bug and has loved the sport for almost as long as I have. But what makes him a good addition to my stories is that he is a "character". A Polish immigrant to Canada, he came with strong work ethics and was unafraid to tackle any challenge. I have always admired

Walter on his '88 FLHTC: Fall 2003

his uncanny ability to adapt; to BS his way into any opportunity and then succeed as if he had been trained for it from the start. Young people today are told that change is inevitable, and that they should be prepared to radically change their profession at least once, if not more, over the course of their career. Walter must have been ahead of his time. He owned his own clothing shop, managed (and lived in) a cemetery, was a chef for a synagogue (no, he's not Jewish), worked for Greyhound as a driver, drove transport, was an insurance agent, snow plow operator, a postie, union steward, and currently runs his own excavation company. And that is just what I can remember at this moment.

In the Beginning

I met Walter just after finishing high school. I had decided academics weren't for me and entered the work force after achieving my grade 12 diploma. One of my friends, Mike, had wisely continued on with his education and carried on with grade 13 (editor's note: Grade 13 eliminated in Ontario 2003). He had become friends with Walter during that school year.

I was hanging out with Mike one day, when he told me about Walter. Walter had a motorcycle that he was having some problems with, and seeing how I was an "expert", could I check it out. At that time, I was riding a chopped Yamaha 650 that I had cobbled together, so that bike in a sense was my credential. "Sure", I said.

An hour or two later, Walter arrived in a cloud of blue smoke. In those days, I prided myself in being able to identify most bikes by sound alone, but the bike that he arrived on was one I had never heard of before. It was a

BSA Bushman: I think this was his bike

BSA Bantam, and the two stroke motor that powered it was 173cc in displacement. (editor's note: the last Bantam was manufactured in 1971). After my past experience with the oil burners, I must admit I wasn't impressed. It did have the prestigious BSA name, but still, it was one dorky looking bike. Even the model name, Bantam, sounded lame. And seeing how I was cool because I rode a chopper, Walter could only be considered as a dork courtesy of that BSA.

But as time went on, somehow that ridiculous conclusion faded away, and I discovered that we actually got along very well. We frequently went out for rides together. I was usually in the lead, Walter following as best as his constantly ailing machine would let him. Who would have thought that this was a pattern we would follow for many years to follow.