STIX DOUGLAS PRODUCTIONS

1976 Harley Davidson Bi-Centennial FOR SALE

2011-07-03T16:46:00.008-05:00

I have been fortunate to have owned this Bi Centennial since 1997. However all good things must come to an end.

In the time I have owned it I have taken it from a rough and crude form and restored it to a more honorable and relyable existance. Doing old school things like polishing and buffing by hand the aluimum parts like these control levers.

However when it come to engine work, I turned that over to Butch Clayton, of Clayton Performance. Shown here working on it.

The entire engine was gone over, and a fresh top end was done.

The bike has less than 500 mile on its rebuild, and has less than 31,000 original miles. The only changes being unleaded valves added.

There are many other spare parts that go with the bike, Including another set of 76 gas tanks.

Those interested in owning a truely rare 1976 ShovelHead Harley Davidson can contact me by phone.

This maybe the last all original and non-aftermarketed shovelhead from this area, and the only FLH Bi-Centennial known to be FOR SALE in existance.

Stix
314 304 3709
Cedar Hill, Missouri 63016

The Legend of Sturgis Beer

2008-08-13T21:15:00.041-05:00

By STIX DOUGLAS

Once Upon a Time…at a place not far from here, many, many years ago there was a lad who had dreams of going traveling to far away lands. Born and raised poor he believed that if there ever was a will, there is always a way.
To reach the goal of his dream he made a decesion to give up the habit of smoking,saved up his money and eventually, bought himself an old broken down Iron Steed.

There would be many long days and many more nights while burning the midnight oil working to fixing it. His dreams were slowly becoming realized as he begin to take it for rides around his humble village Soon He became more confident and began to increased the distances.

One day while stopped out on one of these rides he overheard others talking of this place that they referred to as the Mecca of Motorcycling. In the other villages he heard more wild stories of things that had happened to those whom had gone there.
At first It seemed as if all knew of or claimed to have gone…..at least once to this mystrious place.

There were so many tales and myths that hardly any of it seemed believable. Each story was more exaggerated then the next. Each was filled with every type of challenge imaginable. Those that had gone unprepared often suffered great consequences. There were so many extremes that many hadn’t been ready for.

There were tall tales of mind altering road mirages as well as some who had experienced organized confusion. There was ghastly and dreadful stories of Storms unlike any that He had seen or had heard of including the Winds of Change. Where once you had gone through you would never be the same again.

Others told of heat so un-relenting that it caused delusions. Some had barely survived while they were broke down on the plains, trapped, stuck out in the sun in the heat for hours with no shade. They described it as merciless as if they were in the desert.
.

Secretly he knew if he were to ever go to this place that he would have to plan and be prepared to take on this quest. Many that would go to the Mecca often would travel together in caravans, because there was always safety in numbers.

To prepare himself he begun to ride his Iron Steed even greater distances. This would be an epic journey. He believed a true biker would have to have knowledge of his “Iron Steed”. because his survival would depend on it
He heard of the dreaded Road Gremlins that could attach themselves for the ride to cause mischief and difficulties along the way. But one of the stories that he heard and believed was from the well seasoned travelors. Called “The Legend of the Sturgis Beer”

When the time came to leave everybody was gone. It was as if by magic that everyone else had disappeared or that they had gone on without him. If he was going he would have to go alone.
He mentally prepared himself the best way he knew how. Packed up all the things that he thought he might need for himself and his trusted steed for any of the unforeseen events that might happen along the way. Then set off on what became an adventure that would change his life forever.

There is always some truth to a legend; it’s what lends a little magic to it. The truth be told many years ago, because I was that "lad"

I quit smoking, saved my money and bought a wrecked Liberty edition Electra-glide AMF shovelhead. Within a year after repairing it I rode it alone on my first trip to Sturgis, South Dakota. Little did I know at that time what to expect or how much of an impact it would have on my life.

It wasn't just a simple vacation trip. It was so much more. I observed and participated in an experience that others could only dream of, and even though I cringe at the words ‘In the Old Days’ I am reminded of those earlier times even though I am much older and much wiser now because of it.

But even now I am compelled to tell you of this legend and what I learned from that first initial trip.

It was back then that I first heard of the legend of Sturgis beer. it’s been called many things but the Beer legend went something like this....

Traditionally, and in ‘Those Days’ when anyone and everyone rode his or her motorcycles to Sturgis. The legend was that IF you made it, you were to celebrate. (Remember there was a time when motorcycles weren’t as reliable as they are now? Some of us may still remember the Dark Ages when a lot of bikes would be seen broke down along the sides of the highways.)

But If you managed to "get" to Sturgis on your return trip back you were to load and pack your motorcycle down with all of the beer you could possibly carry.
The point being that if you broke down you won’t die of thirst while you waited for a rescue or repair. Besides it might help keep you from losing your cool. On the other hand if you didn’t break down then you’d have a little bit of the Mecca to share, with those near and dear to you. And give to your friends.

I have continued this tradition every year since, giving away those memento’s that have become collectors cans from each of my Sturgis trips, providing them to other motorcyclist as well as to close friends and family members. To those that ride I ask they continue the tradition. Since then I have seen the cans I have given out shown with pride as they sit on bookshelves, fireplace mantles, even trophy cases. They are lined up with each year’s memory.

To me it feels a little like Christmas passing out those beers, sharing the memories
of that years trip to Sturgis with those that wish to return one day or to those that have never been. It’s a comfort and a sign of appreciation for those that have already been there and perhaps dream of going back. It’s a tradition that is worthy to be kept, there are so few left to even be aware of now. Its a story with meaning which there seems to be less of and that get faded in time. Like those that still ride their motorcycles there and back.
I maybe one of the last bikers who can recall the past a traditionalist that remembers what it was like when it was unheard of, even ridiculous, to trailer a working motorcycle.
Passing out each one of those cans allows others to share in the experience and in a small way, they are thought of, and are included in the quest to the Motorcycle Mecca and back. (Besides, it’s cheaper than T-shirts). The true value represented by one of these collectable beers from Sturgis, only grows more valued over time, just like friends.

Keep in mind how much better it is to share, then talk over a beer, or in this case (no pun intended) the talk and the story behind a can of Sturgis beer.

May you all live long enough to go to the Mecca of Motorcycling. But now that you have been entrusted with the LEGEND, I hope you will fulfill the meaning of this legend with others so they can (again no pun intended) be able to fulfill their dreams as well.

I wish you well, and that you enjoy many years of travels because legends aren’t just born, they are made…

Devil's Gulch

2007-08-15T18:03:00.022-05:00

(By Stix Douglas)

As the wind gusted it was blowing large drops of water into my face and leaving spots on my safety glasses making it even more difficult to see. My two Wise Guy buddies and I had been riding on an extended two lane alternative/scenic route to the Mecca of motorcycling (Sturgis). We were just coming to the end of our first full day of riding. It was nearly dusk and we were desperately in need of a place to spend the night. Hopefully one that was dry.

We were like a posse riding hard all day, and now trying to stay ahead of a storm. The rain had been falling on us for the previous 20 mile and although we had heard several reports on the radio, we knew the worst was heading in our direction. We desperately wanted to avoid it. It was right upon us. We were in need of shelter or a place to hide out from it and to be able to bunk for the night.

Our original plans were to spend the night at a Palisades State Park, which is located in the most southeastern corner of South Dakota only a short distance from the Minnesota state line. When we arrived there we had been informed by the Park Ranger that there were no vacancies and it was suggested to us to continue on Hwy 11 to Split Rock Park a few miles further and on the northern side of the town of Garretson near a place called Devils Gulch.

Following the directions we were given we turned off the Hwy onto a small paved road that led us to the entrance of Split Rock Park. Just before we turned into the park we noticed another sign for Devil's Gulch that continued on up ahead. We had been on many an expedition before but for the time being we were just looking to get a roof over our heads.

The single lane road leading into the park was nothing more than a path of loose pee gravel that made it extremely difficult to ride on with a motorcycle.

At the end was a cul-de-sac where we parked under several large Cedar trees. They reminded me a lot of the ones back home in Missouri. At least now we were able to remain out of the rain for the most part while we unloaded the gear from our bikes and set up our bed rows for the night under a pavilion nearby.

A short distance away you could see and hear the delightful sound of a waterfall from a dam as it rushed over a stair step of Cut Granite Rock.

That night the water sounds were like listening to a lullaby for us weary and tired travelers. We were worn from the days hard ridden miles as we slept soundly almost unscaved from the fierce storm as it passed through during the night..

The next morning we headed back into the small town of Garretson. There was no diner, but it did have a small local grocery store that had a place for customers to buy breakfast that came complete with tables and chairs for its customers to enjoy their meal.
As we drank coffee an ate breakfast we struck up conversations with the locals. Trading stories and founding out that it was other Missourians Frank and Jesse James to be exact that made the area a novelty with the Historical site, which was now a Municipal State Park, called Devil's Gulch.
Marked on the road Atlas and forever in the history books from an incident that happened there dating back to September 7th 1876. When we finished we thanked everyone for their hospitality and the story and we decided to have a look at this Devils Gulch for ourselves.

According to the documentation the facts were that during that time the notorious outlaws Frank & Jesse James had been involved with the Youngers in a Bank Robbery in Northfield, Minnesota, that had gone dreadfully bad. Several of the Youngers had been killed along with some townsfolk.

Many people were angered by the killings and went after Jesse and his brother. The two had separated near Split Rock Creek. Frank heading alongside the creek to the north while Jesse headed south taking the posse with him in hot pursuit

According to Frank in an interview in 1870 many years after the fact and without any other way of knowing other than by his account of the events Jesse had either trained his horse prior or forced it to jump a 18 to 20 foot Gourge. . Leaving the posse behind, unable and or unwilling to attempt to do the same.

I had a hard time understanding the signifigance and was captured by the magic of this location. Its hard to put into words realizing we were at the place where this had actually happened. A place where myth meets legend.

Was this planned or was it just plain luck of the draw? We may never know for certain but in either case I felt more in touch with my Missouri roots and a alittle more comradely with my outlaw side after having been there.
This was where there was more to the story than what mets the eye.

As my Wise Guy buddies and I pulled out on our Harleys heading to our mecca that morning I couldn't help but know in my mind that I'll always remember this place. The fact we mirrored trying to excape and were from Missouri makes it sort of ironic. We could have passed it up and missed it but I am so much more impressed that we took the time, and investigated it for ourselves.

It wasn't just another night out on the road to Sturgis, with my Wise Guy buddies. Instead it was a tremendous experience. It felt as if we were a part of history and it was another notch in our travels on the journey to our ultimate destination.
We often collect the memories and remember the thrills it is that makes us Legends and that's why we continue on....

You can find out more by clicking up the words " Devil's Gulch " on your search engine of your computer about this special place in South Dakota and or I suggest you go to these web sites for more information. Its one way to know, but its nothing like actually having been there.

http://www.trailsandgrasslands.org/gulch.html
http://www.uwsp.edu/geo/projects/geoweb/participants/dutch/VTrips/DevilsGulchSD.HTM
http://www.outdoorplaces.com/Destination/secret/garretson/index.htm

2007-01-14T15:52:00.001-06:00

2007-01-13T12:12:00.001-06:00

Memories of the Quebec Provincial Rally

2006-07-05T11:12:00.023-05:00

By S.Sydney & Stix Douglas

During the early part of the summer I was enjoying myself out on the open road travelling on the “North Eastern Tour”. Collecting points for each of the New England states for the ABC’s of Touring, I had already stopped at the Connecticut State Rally on my way up into Canada.

There were many surprises upon arriving in Quebec. Having already been told that French was the primary language spoken there, I had not experienced the language barrier in any of the other provinces previously visited. To find the Rally I resorted to “International communication” when talking with a gas station attendant. I asked “Harley Davidson Dealer?” and he pointed me in the right direction.

Fortunately it was close and easily found along the main highway. Pulling into the Dealership that morning the owner greeted me. He showed Quebec hospitality by taking his Harley and personally escorting me to where the HOG Rally was taking place.

Having ridden for nearly 2,000 miles I was more than willing to just sit and watch others enjoy the activities. While talking with so many people I was fortunate that they took the time to translate so those that did not speak very much English could understand me.

Returning to the Dealership I took pictures and participated in some of the functions that where happening there; including a bike wash and a barbecue where I enjoyed a hotdog.

In the early evening I returned to the Rally joining with the others for an evening ride, to a place that had a spectacular view to watch the sun set. It was magnificent.

Along the way I had to hit the fuel reserve switch. To assure I would have enough fuel to make it back and not be left behind, the Road Captain of the local HOG chapter escorted me up through the ranks to ride with him at the front of the group on the return trip. When the time came a few of them pulled off to escort me to the gas station. I felt I was protected and well cared for in true biker fashion.

Later that night there was live entertainment with a band and dancing. Everyone thoroughly seemed to enjoy themselves whole heartedly. The memories of the Quebec Provincial Rally were some of the most enjoyable I can remember for this year. I had the opportunity to meet a lot of friendly and very interesting people.

Even though I didn’t want it to end, as there was so much more that was to happen at the Rally, I knew I had to leave. My next stop was the Ride for Sight in Ontario the following day; but that is another story….

2004-08-24T17:29:00.000-05:00

WHO AM I ?

2002-11-30T02:00:00.015-06:00

(By Stix Douglas)

As a tradional motorcyclist, I believe all of my life’s experiences have led me upto this point. But somewhere along the way the storys and the biking traditions that I learned and were taught to believe in have been cast to the side, misplaced, or overlooked as unimportant. There is no one carrying on this tradion for this next generation of riders. I am persueing to do that now

I am a long distance TOURING "BIKER" who has been blessed as one of the lucky few that has also had a long history of riding motorcycles, having done so nearly my whole life. The open road has been very good for me and has taken me to places I would have never have thought of going to and I am much richer because of it with memorys of travels from all over this continent.

I set a goal for myself years ago that I just completed before I retired which was, to have ridden in all of the lower forty-eight states. Besides that I have also traveled through five of Canada’s Provinces, and now have set another goal to complete the remaining eight Provinces within the next few years.

I have been participating in HOGs ABC's Of Touring for the past few years now and was one of the Top 12 for United States and Canada in 2006.
Having also received my 250,000 Mile Merit Award from HOG (Harley Owners Group)

So to say I ride a little, might be considered somewhat of an understatement.

Back when I was growing up the goal was to ride and live to become a “Wise Old Biker. I have just been blessd to have made choices that have allowed me to continue to experience riding throughout my entire life. Because of this I felt I needed to return a little of my fortune to others.

I have been a Certified Safety Instructor and done nearly a weeks worth of training before I worked as a Range Aid at Doc's Harley Davidson in Kirkwood. I then completed a 10 day MSF (Motorcycle Safety Foundation) training with the MMSP ( Missouri Motorcycle Safety Program) in Warrensburg, Missouri in May of 2008.
I took an additional four more days of training with "Harley Davidsons Riders Edge Program" At Prince George, Virginia in June of 2008. Since that time I have stopped teaching.

Even though I prefer and ride alone, the majority of the time, I am saddened to think that many of today’s younger riders will only participate in weekend or group rides. Although there is safety in numbers and everyone can enjoy riding in formation. I only do that with a very few of my riding buddies and it is usually on our longer road trips.

You don’t have to have a group or an organization to be able to enjoy the sunshine and the wind in your face. Hell it wasn’t that many years ago that Harley Davidson used the slogan that still rings true for me today: “The Eagle Soars Alone”.

I am always the one with the dirtiest bike, slopped up by the rain as well as other elements, because I took my chances. You’ll often see my windshield stained with bug juice left on it from the evenings ride the night before.

I believe it is wrong for anyone to apologize or make excuses for when their bike is dirty, just because it’s been ridden. What good is a clean motorcycle if you never go anywhere? You also have to remember that time spent cleaning also means less time spent riding.

I was never a week end warrior, I often rode my bike to work and those 250,000 were before I retired.
I ride because I have always enjoyed it. Not because I had to, or that I need to “prove” anything. It is just important to me, because I found riding an excellent stress reliever when my workday ended I would always look forward to the end of the day and the different variations and routes on the way as I would ride home.

When I first started out riding Harleys I was told: “If you really want to ride a lot you need to have a back up bike.” "In those days "You rIde one bike while you worked on the other."

But since that time and even with all the technical advances, I believe there is still no one bike that can do every kind of riding equally well.
Over the years, I have enjoyed owning a host of different motorcycles and I know it's not the number of bikes that you have that is important but rather the experiences and reasons for having them.

I currently own 4 Harley Davdsons if you count my 1976 XL Sportser that has remained a basket case since Oct of 1997. I had my 1976 FLH Bi Centennial restored and just purchased a 2006 Night Rod (Yes,a water cooled Harley ) And last but not least I have a 2001 Electra Glide Classic that I bought new in May of 2002 which currently has over 157,000 miles on it.

Unlike many riders today, I don’t see any advantages by wearing a Beanie for a helmet. it doesn’t makes you look cool, and why look foolish when you don’t have to? Rather than wear a beanie I wore a white DOT approved helmet loaded with freedom of choice stickers, but to each his own. I agree with those who think it should be those that ride that should decide; not some law made by a congressman who doesn’t. My role now is to lead by example, Safety first.

Having been able to continue to ride motorcycles for decades rather just recently buying into it, requires more than just luck at staying alive. To do so is by a number of pre-determined factors. One of the biggest reasons I am still around and able to ride is I don’t drink and ride. Period. And I don’t condone those that do.

It’s still my goal to become that ”Wise Old Biker” and not by dying as a result of stupidity brought on by drinking alcohol.

Sure I know I have offended all of you that choose to drink, but I had made my choice not to. The way I look at it is...He whom lives longest, rides the furthest and therefore wins. To me it can’t be any simpler than that. I can always find more important things to do then leave my bike parked out in front of a bar.

We should all believe in the simple philosophy that motorcycles are intended as well as are made for the purpose to be ridden.

I run loud pipes and yet I try to be considerate. I have them because I am heard and noticed where it counts, on the highway. Not at some stoplight trying to draw attention to myself or to be obnoxious in causing an unnecessary distraction.
Because of the volume my loud pipes have saved me on countless numbers of times from “cages” (automobiles) that would have run me over while merging into traffic who would otherwise not have even noticed me.

Another major difference between myself and other “Motorcycle enthusiasts” is that I’m more into the long haul rather then the quarter mile.

I find it aboslutely basphone and totally and utterably absurd to have a “Touring motorcycle” in the back of a truck or a trailer, unless it is being taken in for repairs. This seems to be an acceptable practice that many others seem to think is alright.
I am NOT ALONE even the guys I ride with find it offensive. Many bikers in other parts of the country don’t give this a second thought when considering going to motorcycle events. To those I got to ask, Why pretend to ride if you don’t?” Why have a Touring bike if you’re not going to use it for its purpose?

As you can see I am serious and passionate about riding motorcycles. I dare to travel on two wheels and by choosing to do this it has allowed me to go places and see some things at countless places that very few would ever have the opportunity to see, and I am richer for it.
Others can only dream of the beauty or the experences that await them. It is a choice that each of us make. I challenge each of you to make that choice.

I still collect my pins and patches at motorcycle events, especially those that I had to travel long distances to get to. However, My treasures aren’t those pins or patches, but rather the memories of those experiences.

As it was explained to me by one of my “true brothers in the wind”, it’s not the destination that’s important, but rather, it’s the journey.

We all need to come to the realization that it’s not so important where you have been, compared to the thoughts of where you are going.

Over time, we all become older and I would like to think more well seasoned with our riding experiences. But more importantly, I hope we all become a little wiser because we ride.
Be Safe
Who am I? I’m STIX Douglas and I ride.