Rider Tribute: Homer Knapp
By Sam DiMaggio
Courtesy of Jim Farrell and Judy Whitson/Trailblazers News
I have known Homer for over 60 years. We first met when I was about 12 or 13 years old. He was a few years older than me, maybe three or four years. Of course, at that age, it seemed like 10 years older to me.
We both grew up in Hollywood. There was a neighborhood mechanics’ shop just down the alley from my house. It was called Ike’s Garage. I used to walk past it on my way to one of my very closest friends’ house. It was an amazing place to me, because it always had this Space-Age-looking vehicle sitting in there, which I later learned was a Bonneville Streamliner with a Model A engine in it that had a Reilly four-port head on it. It held the world record at that time for a four-cylinder engine at the [Bonneville] Salt Flats. Not only that, but they – “they” being two guys named Gus and Baldy, and Ike, of course – did not mind this little snot-nosed kid hanging around it and asking stupid questions.
One of those many time I stopped by, I saw this tall, lanky guy working on two very old-looking motorcycle tanks – J.D.’s, of course. I walked up and asked some questions about what he was doing, and once again I felt welcomed and was told in great detail exactly what he was doing, which was soldering them because they were leaking fuel. They were being readied for a motorcycle race. Well, this really caught my interest in a big way and literally propelled me on my way to a whole new interest that truly changed my life.
Shortly after that, I was invited to Homer’s house, and I met his family. I found myself constantly wanting to visit him and hang around in that amazingly messy garage that seemed impossible to find anything in but, to my surprise, he knew where everything was. I just couldn’t believe the knowledge he had about mechanical things. I always loved working on my bicycles, taking them apart and putting them back together, but this was different. These things had engines in them. You didn’t have to pedal them. And then there was that sound, that incredible sound they made when you came down on the kick starter with all your weight and thrust, and heard that first ignition. That sound that ran through your bones and made you want to learn all you could about a motorcycle with the thought of just maybe riding one someday.
One day, when arriving at Homer’s house way too early – which as anyone who knows him knows is anytime before 3 p.m. – he finally had his breakfast and came out of the house and said to me, “I have something for you.”
He brought out this cardboard box with a bunch of dirty parts sticking out of it and said, “Here, this is for you.”
I asked what it was.
He said, “This is a Whizzer engine and you can put it in your bicycle.”
I was dumbfounded. I couldn’t believe it. I asked how I would ever figure out how to put it together.
He said, “I’ll help you get it running.”
I just can’t tell you how much that meant to this 12- or 13-year-old kid. It was a dream come true. I knew at that moment that Homer was a truly special person who would be my friend forever.
This was the first, but only one sign of the friendship he showed me. Hopefully, I have reciprocated in a meaningful way to him. I could go on and on about the fun things we did in those early years, usually revolving around the motorcycle world, but I doubt that anything left more of an impression on me than that day he introduced me to the world of a Whizzer motorbike.
It never mattered how much time would go by without us seeing one another, because we would always pick right back up as if it had been just yesterday. I’m sure that this is true for many of his friends. Homer did not forget his friends. I am so proud to have been one of them.
Thank you, Homer, for just being Homer.
– Sam