Willie's Articles
Willie Woo has been a significant influence in the custom motorcycle and paint world for the last 21 years. He is currently writing a Paint Tip column for the well known Florida publication, Southern Biker. Southern Biker Magazine serves the Custom Motorcycle enthusiast. Presented below are some sample articles.
October 1998
Hi Gang!
Well Biketoberfest is over again for another year. I don’t know about you, but Modest Mike, my son Darren and I had a really Jam Up Time there this year. Before I get into that though, I’ld like to say a Big thank you to a few old friends of mine in Daytona who were really there for us this year. First of all to Brian and Jo Maloney ( She was the barmaid at JR’s in North Miami a few years ago) for putting us up on Friday night and the kindness they showed us. Then a Great Big THANKS to Noodles and his sweet Lady Nikki for putting us up Saturday night. Noodles is the manager of O’Malley’s on 92 in Daytona Beach. They had the most outrageously deelicioues Bar’B’Que. The food was "finger licking GREAT" They had Chicken , Beef, and Pork, all cooked to perfection.
Last but certainly not least by a long shot, a big THANKS to Panhead Tom and his beautiful new bride Debra. Much Happiness to the both of them always. Thanks to all my other friends there in Daytona. It was really great to see you all again. I think that I kind of like Biketoberfest better than Bike Week. The reason I say that is because the weather is usually better and there aren’t the big crushing crowds like there are at Bike Week. The gridlock isn’t as bad either.
The Boot Hill was crowded as can be, as it always is during any Daytona event, as was the Iron Horse, Froggy’s and Dirty Harry’s. I always love going to Daytona, but I love getting back to Miami even better. Miami is truly the Magic City and it’s home and we all know that there’s NO place like Home! We are truly Blessed to live in South Florida.
This month I’ld like to talk about "Real Bikers". First of all, who is a "Real Biker"? Is it the patch holder, the Loner, the Yuppie, the Rub, the AMA or all the other on the fringe types? Is it the guy on the Big Twin Harley or the guy riding the Triumph or Royal Star or Vulcan or someone on one of the many other brands of motorcycles?
A lot of people will probably argue with me on this one, but I think the "Real Biker" is anyone who throws his or her leg over the saddle and goes out there to do battle with the morons in their cars and trucks in traffic. The way I see it (maybe I’m wrong , but I don’t think so) is when the moron in the car ahead of you in the right lane coming up on the exit with his right signal light flashing , swings left at the last moment just as you’re powering by him in the pass mode. No matter what you’re wearing be it colors or shorts and tennis shoes, when you hit the pavement at sixty or more, the road is still going to eat you up no matter what your "status" is in the bike world. Another thing is if you’re out there risking your butt on the I, and you love motorcycles, it sure seems to me that that would make you a "Real Biker".
The last thing I’ld like to share with you this month before I close is a few words on the Black Bikers. I’ve heard some white riders make fun of the Black Bikers. Let me tell you guys something. Those guys ride the hell out of their bikes. The black clubs that I know go on more long distance runs than a lot of the white bikers do. Every month those guys do at least one long distance ride and lot of them do two or more. They think nothing of doing runs to Jacksonville, Atlanta, North and South Carolina or some other long distance ride. Those guys really rack up a lot of yearly miles on their bikes. I’m not being a bleeding heart liberal when I say this. Those of you who know me know better. I’m just telling it the way I see it. Please don’t kill the messenger. Let’s just give credit where credit is due.
‘till next month, Keep the Wind in your face and the rubber side down. Ride Safe. Uncle Willie.
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October 1998
Uncle Willie’s Ramblings By Willie Woo
Hi Gang!
Well it’s been a fun month! Big Red is almost up again. Man, I must have a zillion hours into that thing. It’s almost like being married again. Only a few more pieces to paint and a complete wiring job (Thanks to Yuppie Ron, or is it Juan?) and I’ll finally be back on the road. Don’t worry, You will know my bike. Weird as anything out of a Freddy Kruger movie but the best Road Bike I’ve ever rode. With the frame being stretched seventeen inches and the rake being left stone stock, the center of gravity being much lower because the Suburu car motor sits lower in the frame than the original Motto-Guzzi motor did. Riding that bike on any interstate is more like riding a greyhound bus in terms of just plain old feeling solid on the road. If you don’t believe me, Just ask Modest Mike. He took it from me for the day when I was living up in Daytona. He came back with a smile on his face!
Well Hurricane Georges was a mixed blessing of sorts if ever there was. So what if some three hundred odd people had to pass away, and Billions of dollars in damage and the broken lives, but I figured in the end not to hear about the President and his hijinks with the ever lovely Miss "L" for a whole week was worth the price. All kidding aside, it was a terrible thing and I do wish all the people impacted by the storm the very best.
By the way, if you’ve got what you think is an interesting or unusual project, give me a call. I’d really like to check them out. For years I’ve been saying that Florida has so much Bike Talent that we don’t have to take a back seat to anyone, anywhere. Not to Calif. or New York or Colorado or anywhere else! If you don’t believe me start going to the local area bike and car shows. Look at what the Master Craftsmen here in Florida work wonders with their machines. Don’t you guys ever stop. Welcome in to the new comers who want to get into the Art of Customizing. There’s never enough good people to get together with. You guys out there might try thinking of doing things in fiberglass and resin. Learning to work glass is fun. It’s kind of like magic.
You take fiberglass cloth, mat and other types of fillers that you cad add to your resin depending on what you’re trying to achieve It’s a little messy but it’s not that expensive to get into. Start out on little projects and after completing one project go on to the next one.
After your resin gets hard (It’s called Cured) , ALWAYS WEAR A PARTICLE RESPERATOR whenever you sand ,grind, drill, cut, or work fiberglass that will make dust in any way. Your Lungs will Thank You for it. That’s it for now. Ride Safe, Play hard, Live Long. Uncle Willie
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July 1998
Memorial Patches By Willie Woo
Hi Gang! It’s really been a busy month for me. Between getting settled in my new shop and getting some jobs out, there’s just not enough time in the day. I’ve gotten out a few times this month and have been going to some of the many bike events that we bikers are so luck to have every weekend here in South Florida. Next to seeing old friends and meeting new ones, seeing all those beautiful new customs out there is the greatest. We are truly blessed with some really talented people here in South Florida.
I’m always so happy to see old friends, because that way I know their still with us. I feel like every time a brother or sister leaves us in this life, a part of our lives leaves with them. People we all know and see all the time, are suddenly gone and gone forever.
You’ve all seen people wearing memorials patches. Those are the little square, rectangular or round patches with someone’s name, birth-date and date of departure on them. For you folks out there new to the biking scene, they are not decorations, and they are most definitely not cool. What they really are, are reminders to us and everyone who sees them, that someone near and dear to us is gone.
To see an old gray-beard with a cutoff full of patches of fallen brothers and sisters, is to see a man (or woman) who has lost near and dear friends. I guess that’s the price of getting old, the by-product of riding a motorcycle and our lifestyle. When I hear of a brother or sister who "went out on their ride" no matter how terrible or senseless the cause, I somehow feel better for them than those who pass by way of illness or disease. Somehow a biker who goes out on his or her sled, seems right to me. True their both gone from us, but those who pass doing what they love the most, seem a lot luckier to me than getting some disease, suffering and wasting away.
Motorcycle riding is not the safest of ways to enjoy yourself. If personal safety is your top priority, maybe you shouldn’t be riding. Every time any one of us throws our leg over that machine, we are taking the big chance. Motorcycle riders are mostly adrenaline freaks. The enjoyment of the ride, the companionship of our friends are all very important, but the main, most important reason we all ride is the thrill of it. To be a biker doesn’t mean you have to wear a black t-shirt and have a chained truckers wallet and a big ring of keys on it.
I’ve known business and professionals alike, who with their clean shaven faces and short hair were just as much bike freaks as the hardcore bikers when it comes to riding, loving and enjoying their motorcycles. It’s not what your wearing or what kind of bike your riding that makes you a biker. It’s what’s in your heart that counts the most and where your head is at that’s important.
I counted the patches on my cutoff today and found since 1988 I’ve lost 14 brothers and sisters. That’s 14 good people and dear friends who are gone from me for good. People I continue to miss more and more as time goes by. I’m just very grateful that God gave me the honor and privilege of knowing them and enjoying their company and friendship for the time he did.
All of you out there, whether I know you or not, ride safe, live long and stay with us. God bless you, Uncle Willie.
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April 1998
MEETING BY ACCIDENT: Part 1 of 2
By Willie Woo
Hi Gang: No boring paint article this month, just a boring bike week story. There it was the last Saturday-night of Daytona 1998. It was around 7:30 pm and Main St. had gotten old real-fast with too much and too many for Uncle Willie to take any more. So I decided to go back to the house in Holly Hill where we were staying. It belongs to my friend Joe Fitzgerald, a big Irishman with a bigger heart. The gridlock was a real pain, so I decided to go over the bridge to Orman Beach. Traffic was finally moving and Modest Mike’s 4-Runner was running fine and taking me home. At the corner of U.S.1, I pulled into the gas station and parked as far away from the bikes as possible, went into the Foodmart and got a soda and hershey bar. I paid for the stuff and walked outside to be on my way. I walked over to the truck and glanced around good, there were no bikes to be seen. It was dark by then, I started the truck and had to put it in reverse because some Putz had parked right in front of me. I looked in my left-hand mirror and all was clear, I looked in the right-hand mirror (you know, the one that tells you that "objects are larger than they appear") and didn’t see anything. Well, I have a habit when backing-up vehicles, I go slow. I was moving back when I felt an almost imperceptible nudge. I jammed the brakes on instantly and the truck stopped dead in her tracks, just in time for me to hear a motorcycle rolling over onto it’s side. I threw her into 1st and pulled up a few feet, killed the motor, jumped out and ran to the back of the truck. There, laying on her right-side, was a brand-spanking new ’98 Road King. Well, you see I make my living fixing motorcycles up, NOT destroying them. That with the added feeling of being King Putz of the World, and seeing that beautiful road goddess laying on her side, was an instant stomach and heart-ache for me.
About this time I hear someone yell "He Knocked Len’s Bike Over!!!" Instantly 4 or 5 big guys run over and we all lift the bike up. One guy runs into the john to tell Len his new Road King was just knocked over. He’s out the door and beside the bike and still pulling his zipper up and closing his belt. He looks at me and says "What happened?", I tell him "I didn’t see the bike (He parked it behind me with just the rear end sticking out from behind the curb.) and accidently knocked it over with the truck." He then says, "How do you want to handle it?" I say to him, "Anyway you’ll feel the most comfortable with. If you want to call the police and make a report, the truck is insured & all the paperwork is correct, my license is good, I haven’t had a drink in six years and I’m not high." I was wearing my Southern Biker press pass, and I gave him one of my cards and a few copies of S.B. I showed him my article and ad and told him if he didn’t want the authorities involved, I’d take care of it. Either pay for the damages or whatever.
He was a really calm, cool guy. He never got mad, nasty or anything but nice. I gave him my license so’s he could copy the information and got his name, address and phone number. He then told me he would get in touch with me after bike week. We shook hands and I apologized again (for the 300th time). We said good-bye and parted company.
Next issue the rest of the story!
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May 30, 1998
MEETING BY ACCIDENT: Part 2 of 2
By Willie Woo
Hi Gang: Well, I know that all of you prayed for me to live out the month so that you could catch the end of this thrilling story.
We got home Sunday night from Bike Week and Monday morning was back to work as the usual thing ( those of you who have to work everyday know what I mean and those of you who don’t, well , let’s just say "cool"! ) and spent the day doing what I spend the days doing. I thought of calling Len, but I just didn’t get around to it. The next day, Tuesday , about 10:30 a.m. the phone rings and it’s Len.
He tells me that the damage done to the bike is almost $500.00. Cheap when you think what rolling a brand new Road King could have cost. I decided to go to Bradenton the next weekend. Comes the weekend, and Modest Mike and I jump in the 4 wheel drive and point the nose towards Bradenton. We finally get to Len’s house about 12:30 pm and he ain’t there. He’s at the west coast helmet protest run. We hang and chill ‘till 2:30 pm when Len and his Brothers came roaring up to the house. Man, the Guy is really great! We barBcued and ate and drank and whatever, and just partied with and had a great time in general.
We finally go over what he wants in the way of paint and when all that is settled, He takes off the gas tank and both saddlebags with the lids. We load them into the 4 wheel drive, thank everyone for the great day we had, say good-bye, and head out back home for Miami. About 1:30 am we’re home.
I had several jobs ahead of Len’s in the shop, so on the floor it sat waiting its time in the lineup. Over the next two weeks while I was getting the jobs in front done and out, I was also working on the tank and saddlebags. I took the H-D decals off the sides of the tank and left the pinstripes as a guide. Len wanted the bottom of the Violet-Pearl tank and bags to be done in Birch White with a checkered purple stripe separating them following under the original pinstripes to a maximum width of 5/16’’. I completely repainted all the purple on the tank and the tops and upper parts of the saddlebags. Everything was then covered with much, much clear and when hard, was color sanded and buffed.
Finally the job is finished. I call Len and tell him to come for the stuff on Sunday so that I can take him to a few of our South Florida Biker friendly Bars and show him around. He says he can’t make it for Sunday and will have to pick it up on Friday around noon , so noon it is, I guess.
Friday, around 11:30 am, Len and his friend Mike pull up to the shop. We (Modest Mike, My Son Darren, and Myself) go out and greet them and then we take them inside and show them the tank and the saddle bags and lids. We had taken the H-D decals off the sides of the tank and now they were replaced by the same H-D badges as on the 55-56'’H-D. Len was a really, really happy guy. I asked him if we were even and he said yes and we smiled and shook hands.
We loaded the Road King on the trailer and tied her down safe and secure and then I took the guys over to a Cuban greasy spoon on 27th avenue and 24th street for lunch. Man, nobody can lay out a spread the way our Latin Brothers can for as low a price as they do. The bill with tip was less than $26.00 for all of us and we all ate real good. After lunch we went back to the shop and said so-long and Len invited us over to Bradenton to party whenever. Then Len and his friend Mike took off for home.
It made me feel good to have taken a potentially ugly situation and turned it into a positive one. Again, Thank You Mr. Len Johnson for being first a Gentleman, and second a new Friend. Till next time, LIVE, LOVE, LAFF ! Uncle Willie.
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