Bandit Steps Up
Strange times and Bandit scratched his head as he dealt with issues with the City of Sturgis, and the Sturgis Motorcycle Museum. In each case amazing future potential and hope rocked the Black Hills. A brother just called about the new, at last, Sturgis Harley-Davidson Dealership opening on Junction Avenue. What could be more exciting for the town of Sturgis. Never in the history of the Rally did a H-D Dealership exist.
Pappy Hoel the rally founder owned a Triumph, Yamaha and an Indian Dealership in town, but never a Harley Dealership.
When Jim the newly appointed manager of the new Harley Dealership called, Bandit couldn’t help himself but unloaded his notions for this new H-D mega store. He had solutions for every dealership issue solving all the dire issues of Harley-Davidson in one fell swoop of stone and iron. Harley-Davidson faced serious business woes, and no one stepped up except the average rider who supported the brand daily.
Then suddenly something unbelievable happened. Someone slipped an embossed envelope under the Bikernet shop door. Laced with gold fillagree, it sparkled with prominence. All we ever received was late notices and summons. With grease-stained hands Bandit tore open an invite to a Harley-Davidson board meeting in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. He couldn’t pass it up. Bandit called all the brothers into the shop. We pulled up our milk crates and preparations began.
We didn’t know what to expect, but Bandit always came prepared for whatever might happen, from a luxury lunch to a fist fight.
With a leather briefcase in hand and a slew of presentation boards under his confident arm he strolled into the meeting. Scanning the vast, ornate board hall and massive stained and varnished table he studied the folks sitting around the room. Mostly banker looking broads and suits sat and fidgeted with pens and agendas. A redhead caught Bandit’s eye and immediately a connection formed. She bounced to her feet and came to his side. She was the only one wearing tight denims, a form fitting leather shirt and black, laced leather riding boots with engraved skull silver tips.
Bandit scanned the room for Karen Davidson or her brother, Bill, but didn’t see them. He looked for a peanut gallery.
“We want you at the table,” the Redhead said. “We’re so excited you could make it.” Her sexy countenance distracted him from the doer, cloud of doom, silent board room. “This joint needs some Kid Rock,” Bandit muttered.
“How about you and I do lunch in Cabo after the meeting,” Bandit said his gaze connecting with her emerald pools. Her eyes brightened as snow streaked past the windows outside. Her massive globes of love pressed hard against the tightly buttoned leather vest made from brain-washed deer hide. “Would you mind if I…” Bandit inquired and reached her top engraved silver button and let freedom ring.
“Would you sit next to me?” Bandit asked. “I might need a translator.”
“Sit here,” Shirely said and gave Bandit the massive ornately carved and leather upholstered chair at the end of the long table. She scrambled to her chair and retrieved her files.
The clock chimed 10:00 and the president called the meeting to order. “Where are the mechanics?” Bandit whispered to Shirley, and she rolled her eyes.
The president, a balding accounting sort read the agenda about approving the last minutes. The board voted. Nothing about this scene looked, smelled, or indicated motorcycles or freedom. Bandit glanced around the polished and prepped room. Between ornate pillars rested lavishly framed paintings and photographs of past members of the Harley-Davidson family, two wheeled leaders who struggled to pull their company through wars, economic downturns, and bad political players.
He thought about all the upheaval the world experienced. This two-wheeled company represented so much more to the hardworking common man than anything this board could ever dream up. That’s when it happened, a door flew open and a tall European, clean-shaven, man strolled into the room wearing slip-on leather shoes, no socks, khaki pants and a pink golf shirt with the collar flipped up. His cashmere scarf floated on the austere air behind him. He carried no briefcase, no files, only his cell phone and a Starbucks coffee latte. He slipped into the heavily upholstered chair and spun it like a kid on a circus ride.
When he slid to a stop facing the long polished table, he suddenly came faced-to-face with Bandit at the other end.
“Who the hell is that?” The CEO of the largest most significant motorcycle company in the world demanded and turned to the president.
Bandit stood immediately at the end of the table. At 6’4″ he wore black engraved leather cowboy boots, jet black Levis with a 38-inch inseam, a leather engraved Howard Knight belt, his own handmade brass wheel belt buckle, a long sleeve button down, solid black cotton shirt with the cuffs turned up to mid forearm, like someone ready to work. He wore a soft deerskin black vest, open, adorned with one pin, crossed solid-gold ballpeen hammers. He looked down at a dozen members of the board and then to the president. “I’m pressed for time,” he said, “can we move to New Business?”
“Perfect,” the president said. “We asked Bandit to fly out here. Seems we have lost 200 of our 600 dealers in the last year. We need a fresh prospective.”
“What does he know about running a major international company?” Zeetz snapped.
“What the hell do you know?” Bandit quipped, “Sales have declined 17.4 percent since 2019. He nodded to the president. “If I may Mr. President.”
“Continue,” the president said.
“I’m working closely with staff of the new Sturgis Harley-Davidson Store,” Bandit said. “This could become the most significant dealership on the planet, so we’re making a few changes to the factory-dictated franchise format.”
“But wait,” Zeetz fumed.
“We’re not waiting,” Bandit snapped. “This company is burning daylight, burning good will and burning the very premise it was born on. We’ve had enough, so listen up, pal.”
“I’m not going into design elements, but the guts of this dealership,” Bandit said and hauled out one presentation board and set it on an easel. “First this company is going to sell aftermarket products from around the world.” The image displayed a vision of quality parts displays from S&S, Drag Specialties and Dennis Kirk.
Then he yanked out another image rich presentation board. “Not only will we sell aftermarket, but we will install aftermarket.” The image colorfully portrayed an advanced service department.
Shirely, moved around the board room quickly, setting up more easels and shifting displays for maximum impact.
“Hang on for this one,” Bandit said. “This dealership will include a performance and race departments supporting all aspects of motorcycle racing from Bagger racing, Bonneville, the drags and flat track. And may I add, fuck the EPA and the California Air Resources Board.”
“You may not know what’s going on in state houses or in the streets,” Bandit snapped and hosted another board sporting the image of a dealer conference room devoted to every active motorcycle rights association in the country. Bordered with the logos of state and national groups, Bandit pointed out interactive displays capable of informing onlookers on the latest legislative info, how to support positive initiatives such as Right to Repair efforts and how to be responsive and involved.
“We won’t ever leave any rider behind,” Bandit tossed one board aside for another entertaining slide. Shirley scrambled to set up another easel. “We will embrace a community hub concept transforming this dealership into motorcycle world epicenter community hub for bikers from every corner of the world with a Rider’s Lounge.” The panel emphasized an historical comfortable space where riders could gather, share stories, and plan trips. “This could include a coffee bar, comfortable seating, and large screens displaying motorcycle-related content,” Bandit pointed out.
“We will support motorcycle Events everywhere,” Bandit snapped and illustrated a dedicated area for hosting regular events such as bike nights, charity rides, workshops, and live music performances featuring local artists. He pulled Shirley to his side and could swear another button snapped open and she bubbled to the surface. He pulled her close and their eyes met for a long comforting moment. The entire board room froze. “And we could dance the night away,” Bandit said and squeezed.
He turned his back on the board for just a second and unwrapped a couple of special presentation boards. Shirley ran to his side with two more easels. “These represent so much to H-D’s history and factory accomplishments. They can’t be ignored!” He turned and held up one massive Danial James framed fine art painting at a time. The vibrant colors, the light and the characters portrayed antique Harleys in their true atmosphere. The board gasped in unison.
“We will embrace two vintage departments, one from the WWII era and one prior back to WWI. Each will offer riders wonderful experiences into the history of this once great company as well as any number of restoration opportunities.”
“And finally, the essence of the Harley experience must include the custom world, and we will embrace it and never turn it away,” Bandit said. “We will celebrate the talents of all of the great fabricators and painters such as Arlen Ness and Jon Kosmoski with colorful interactive displays capable of inspiring all riders old and starting out. But I’m not finished. Our facility will contain an educational department devoted to education and training from encouraging kids to ride to how to rebuild a carb. This will give every member of the staff the opportunity to work with the community, kids and bike enthusiasts, first hand.”
Bandit set his final presentation board aside and Shirley grabbed another easel stand. She carefully arranged the display for maximum viewing for the whole day. Bandit turned to face the board. “I apologize, Mr. Zeetz sir, I almost forgot.” Bandit bent and lifted one more narrow, vertical, foam-core presentation board and slipped it onto the wobbly easel rail. It pictured a closet door with a frosted glass pane in the top half. In gray painted capital letters it said, “EV DEPT.” Over the pane of glass rested a yellow strip of emergency tape 3 inches wide containing crisp black letters, “PERMANTELY CLOSED!”
The board roared, applauded and stood in unison even the banker girls, but when they looked around Bandit and Shirley were gone like a cool breeze on a summer day…
–K. Randall Ball
Great refitting, including a “coffee mess”.