For as long as I have known Kim, she has been filling my head with tales and stories of a private stash museum her father has built in the back of their Maine home. Her tales revolve around a two story barn packed and stuffed with just about every type of motorcycle and hotrod memorabilia you can image. The problem for me was that in general, most girls I know want nothing to do with their fathers’ grease monkey tendencies but for Kim, it was simply another part of life’s necessary educations.
Collectors come in all forms - from those that leave shit wrapped up in their cellophane packages, to the hands on obsessive who is on a constant hunt for the next find.
Mr. Harris is neither to me. He is a man so well connected with his first encounter with the mechanics of cars and motorcycles way back at the age of 13, that he simply converted his love into an occupation of restoration (hotrods, Harleys and Indians for the record) and curation. When you have been at it for 30 years, you’re not hunting down the next find - they somehow discovers you through the ever aware eyes of friends and fellow collectors who know just what will make your day.
The Harris Museum really should be open to the public at some point because my words and photos will not do it justice. It is indeed housed in a private barn and is one of those special places in which you walk in without a drop of knowledge on a subject matter but walk out wanting to return to explore some more.
Then again, maybe it should remain private.
Here’s just a quick dip into what I discovered on my first visit.
I apologize in advance for not knowing the make of this bike but what you should take away from this image is to what means Americans went in keeping their bikes in order during the World War years when metal was scarce. Old “Vacationland” plates used to mend a fender.
I was hesitant to show this image as it is Mr. Harris’ homage to the names of those who have passed on who made an impact in his world of motorcycles and hotrods. I find it to be the coolest way to commemorate a passion and the people who influenced it.
Your grandparents and parents probably took their driving tests on a machine like this back in the day 50’s and 60’s. Beats a computer screen any day.
A 1950 Harley “Pan Head” as removed from a scrap metal yard after being crushed. Two questions - who would crush up this bike and how do you find a relic like this?
O.G. Studebaker radio. His father was a Studebaker dealer back in the day.
Prime example of the first two years which Maine issued license plates. I’m thinking 1913 or around there. Ceramic on metal.
This example from 1934 is my absolute favorite in it’s saftey orange finish. I am pretty interested in acquiring an example for my own collection.
Thank you sir.
