Recently Sonny Barger, notorious Hell’s Angels founder, passed at 83. I write to reflect on Mr. Barger, not to praise him.

Fifty years ago, the summer of ‘72, I landed my first job in advertising. McMullen Advertising was the “in-house” agency for AEE Choppers, manufacturers of custom motorcycle parts. This was three years after the movie “Easy Rider.” We toiled in cahoots with Street Chopper Magazine. Motorcycle impresario, Tom McMullen, lorded over all three enterprises.

Possessing an uncanny knack for photographing choppers, the magazine dispatched a mechanic and me on a cross-country summer spree to biker events. Our van hauled Tom’s uber-cherry Harley Sportster and a sleek Honda 750. My hair was long. I was unshaven. I stopped bathing to not only look – but smell the part. Our itinerary took us from Southern California up to Reno, Nevada; Boise, Idaho; Chicago and Cleveland, culminating in Laconia, New Hampshire’s motorcycle mecca.

Knowing my photographs might land a guy’s bike in Street Chopper, I was offered incomparable inducements. Once I expressed a penchant for rum and Coke. After defining “penchant,” a trike roared off to fetch a case of Bacardi. I was offered all manner of drugs and loot including, uh, companionship.

Regrettably, I never enjoyed a Cuba Libre with Sonny Barger. Somewhere, someone today is crafting a biopic (movie about Sonny). I’m just recalling my fleeting fling with his biker world. It certainly wasn’t mine … but man, what a fantastic voyage t’was. A sizzling summer experience I wouldn’t trade for all the rum in the world.

Buddy Doyle
Gardiner

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