Beauty of Speed ::: The Track :::> Bikes, events, history....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

I agreed that I would travel to have a look and help identify this mysterious machine. The next day we traveled eight hours arriving after dark. I called the fellow to see if we could have a look. "Maybe tomorrow," was the reply. But after some pleading, we were on our way!

In the darkness of his old barn, we found a somewhat neglected, but fine example of a 1940 Crocker Street Twin. The bike had been in storage for about 25 years and seemed to be in perfect running stock condition. After smoking it over for a period of time, I finally came to the question, "How much?" "Don't know. Make an offer," was the reply. I made a somewhat conservative offer and we agreed to talk again the next morning. It was off to find a hotel and hole up 'til next morning. My night would be a sleepless one...

The next morning I called and the gentleman was not home. "Call back", I was told; I called back later and found he had decided against my offer. I upped the offer. He said, "No". I upped the offer again. Another "no", but he would let me know some time next week if he changed his mind. So, it was back into the car and head for home, the entire time thinking it was the last time I would ever see the street twin.

I called again the following Tuesday with the information I had underneath and asked the same question again, "how much?" He hadn't decided. I was in for some more frustration and sleepless nights. On Thursday the usual gathering night for the boys, he called. He had decided on a price. We negotiated. Finally it was settled! The bike would be mine if I would be there by eight o'clock Monday morning. WHEW!

Sunday I was excited and ready to go; With a new enclosed trailer and a fueled Suburban, we were on the way. At the first fuel stop things started to get complicated. The radiator hose from the thermostat was as big as your fist and threatened to go at anytime. We were off to the parts store for what would hopefully be a short repair. We were in luck. The place had the parts! I had the tools so in about an hour and a half, we were on the road again. A little late but still with plenty of time.

At last, we hit the Florida line, and found our second fuel stop and a bite to eat. Upon returning to the truck, we discovered another aggravation; the lights wouldn't burn on the trailer. The trailer was brand new. Couldn't be! After about an hour's work we found a loose ground wire at the rear of the wiring harness on the trailer. It was fixed and we were on our way again. Time was getting cut a little close, but we could still make it.

About 50 miles from our destination I had to have some sleep. We stopped in an overcrowded rest area and found a small spot at the back. I awoke to the call of nature and felt almost as bad as before I had the one hour nap. I stepped from the truck into the morning light and looked around. I was amazed "This can't be!" The left front tire was flat. Already late for our appointment, we changed the tire, cussing the entire time. Finally, we were on our way again. Just 50 more miles and the infamous Crocker would be mine!

Feeling used and abused, we arrived at the home of the Crocker just in time. The seller had an appointment. He needed to take care of business and be on his way. Business was concluded and we loaded the crippled iron into the trailer. THE CROCKER WAS IN MY POSSESSION!

It was off for some lunch at the first restaurant hawking "home cooking". Inside, I guided us to the nearest booth and sat down. "What is this? Booth number 13." It couldn't be but I was going to eat anyway. Everyone knows that after some of these great truck stop meals you can make some miles. After all, truckers do it all the time. After lunch, "We're outa here," I mumble to my brother and we were on our way.

About 50 miles up the road I started getting a strange rumble in my gut. Here we are, I thought, and "home cooking" strikes. A few more miles and I had to have a break. We stopped at a hotel and settled in for the night. Only in the room, sick from booth 13, could I stop and reflect on the events of the past day and a half.

I had just made one of the worst trips of my life, but in the process I acquired one of the most collectible piece on the vintage market. The bike turned out to be a 61 inch, battery ignition, 1940 model. The bike had the look and feel that it would run, but after a conversation with Ernie Skelton I decided to wait until I could look inside the engine before starting it. I didn't want to hurt any irreplaceable parts.

I had planned to start a full restoration in 1992 with the help of friends and the technical assistance of Ernie Skelton and Chuck Vernon. I finally decided to sell it so that I could build a new shop for Moonlite Cycles and am unsure of what condition the bike is in today...

*"THE CHASE"* A true story by Arthur "Moon" Mullins
........ Click for larger image ................................Click for larger image
It all began one afternoon while my buddy, R.L., and I were sitting in a shop behind my house discussing how successful we had been that summer in our acquisition of old iron. This had been our first full attack on the vintage motorcycle market. We had both some success, he more than I, but nothing that could be considered barn burning. The phone rang and I answered it still discussing the missed treasures and evasive "great finds" that had gotten away. A gentleman, who had bought the unpaid storage from an old warehouse facility in his locale, was on the phone with a question. He wanted to know if I was familiar with a motorcycle that he had acquired in that transaction. When I muttered the word "Crocker" I saw my friend's eyes light up.The caller and I discussed the bike that he had discovered in his newly acquired pile of forgotten goods...
I agreed that I would travel to have a look and help identify this mysterious machine. The next day we traveled eight hours arriving after dark. I called the fellow to see if we could have a look. "Maybe tomorrow," was the reply. But after some pleading, we were on our way! In the darkness of his old barn, we found a somewhat neglected, but fine example of a 1940 Crocker Street Twin. The bike had been in storage for about 25 years and seemed to be in perfect running stock condition. After smoking it over for a period of time, I finally came to the question, "How much?" "Don't know. Make an offer," was the reply. I made a somewhat conservative offer and we agreed to talk again the next morning. It was off to find a hotel and hole up 'til next morning. My night would be a sleepless one... The next morning I called and the gentleman was not home. "Call back", I was told; I called back later and found he had decided against my offer. I upped the offer. He said, "No". I upped the offer again. Another "no", but he would let me know some time next week if he changed his mind. So, it was back into the car and head for home, the entire time thinking it was the last time I would ever see the street twin. I called again the following Tuesday with the information I had underneath and asked the same question again, "how much?" He hadn't decided. I was in for some more frustration and sleepless nights. On Thursday the usual gathering night for the boys, he called. He had decided on a price. We negotiated. Finally it was settled! The bike would be mine if I would be there by eight o'clock Monday morning. WHEW! Sunday I was excited and ready to go; With a new enclosed trailer and a fueled Suburban, we were on the way. At the first fuel stop things started to get complicated. The radiator hose from the thermostat was as big as your fist and threatened to go at anytime. We were off to the parts store for what would hopefully be a short repair. We were in luck. The place had the parts! I had the tools so in about an hour and a half, we were on the road again. A little late but still with plenty of time. At last, we hit the Florida line, and found our second fuel stop and a bite to eat. Upon returning to the truck, we discovered another aggravation; the lights wouldn't burn on the trailer. The trailer was brand new. Couldn't be! After about an hour's work we found a loose ground wire at the rear of the wiring harness on the trailer. It was fixed and we were on our way again. Time was getting cut a little close, but we could still make it. About 50 miles from our destination I had to have some sleep. We stopped in an overcrowded rest area and found a small spot at the back. I awoke to the call of nature and felt almost as bad as before I had the one hour nap. I stepped from the truck into the morning light and looked around. I was amazed "This can't be!" The left front tire was flat. Already late for our appointment, we changed the tire, cussing the entire time. Finally, we were on our way again. Just 50 more miles and the infamous Crocker would be mine! Feeling used and abused, we arrived at the home of the Crocker just in time. The seller had an appointment. He needed to take care of business and be on his way. Business was concluded and we loaded the crippled iron into the trailer. THE CROCKER WAS IN MY POSSESSION! It was off for some lunch at the first restaurant hawking "home cooking". Inside, I guided us to the nearest booth and sat down. "What is this? Booth number 13." It couldn't be but I was going to eat anyway. Everyone knows that after some of these great truck stop meals you can make some miles. After all, truckers do it all the time. After lunch, "We're outa here," I mumble to my brother and we were on our way. About 50 miles up the road I started getting a strange rumble in my gut. Here we are, I thought, and "home cooking" strikes. A few more miles and I had to have a break. We stopped at a hotel and settled in for the night. Only in the room, sick from booth 13, could I stop and reflect on the events of the past day and a half. I had just made one of the worst trips of my life, but in the process I acquired one of the most collectible piece on the vintage market. The bike turned out to be a 61 inch, battery ignition, 1940 model. The bike had the look and feel that it would run, but after a conversation with Ernie Skelton I decided to wait until I could look inside the engine before starting it. I didn't want to hurt any irreplaceable parts. I had planned to start a full restoration in 1992 with the help of friends and the technical assistance of Ernie Skelton and Chuck Vernon. I finally decided to sell it so that I could build a new shop for Moonlite Cycles and am unsure of what condition the bike is in today...
Arthur "Moon" Mullins Visit Moon's website!