I just got this letter from Alex, about getting Von Dutch to paint a helmet and motorcycle gas tank (It's a hoot!)

Dear Car Guy:

I saw your blog about the Blue Velvet Firebird and Von Dutch and wanted to tell you the story of my encounter with Von Dutch.

It was mid 1973, I was a 24-year-old second lieutenant pilot training student at Williams Air Force Base in Chandler, AZ. I had a motorcycle fetish (which I eventually outgrew), but couldn’t afford much of a bike, but I found a used Honda 450 that I could afford and because of that I thought it was pretty cool. I put headers and front forks on it, but it had an ugly orange factory paint job that I just couldn’t stand. I went to the local Honda dealer and asked them who I could get to paint my bike. Actually, the only parts to paint were the tank and the two covers over wiring on either side below the seat – the fenders where chrome (which I also hated, but new fenders weren’t in the budget). I wanted my helmet painted to match too. They directed me to the bed of the Salt River where they said there was a guy who did “pretty good paint and pinstriping”.

I followed their directions and eventually found a run-down garage populated by this “old guy” (remember I was only 24) and I asked him if he did bike paint (the first clue was the compressor and multiple paint guns around the place). He said he did and I outlined the project. He told me to get lost. I came back a couple of days later with a case of beer and offered to pay him whatever he asked to do the bike. He took the beer and told me to get lost. I had to go back three or four times before he finally accepted the project (at a rate around twice what I’d offered him and with the added requirement that, whenever I came over I had to bring beer in payment for interrupting his important work (although I never saw him move from the chair he was sitting in when I arrived).

I naturally expected him to ask what type of paint job I was looking for, but he didn’t, so I said I wanted something like red, white and blue or some other quirky thing. He looked me up and down and said “who’s going to paint this bike, you or me?’ I acknowledged that he was going to do it. He nodded and the paint scheme negotiations were over. I paid him 50%, left the parts with him and left.

Several weeks later I figured he would have the job done, so I dropped by only to find him sitting right where I left him – the bike parts hadn’t moved. I asked when he thought he’d get the bike done and he said something like “when I want to” and told me to get lost. I figured I was out both my money and my bike parts, but over the next couple of months I kept going back on the theory that if I made a sufficient pain in the ass of myself, he’d do the paint job just to get rid of me. During one of these visits I brought up design again and he grudgingly agreed to let me pick the basic color. I chose maroon.

After several months of buying him beer and begging for a completed job, I arrived one day to find the parts perfectly painted, with shadow chevrons and wonderful orange pinstripes. My full head helmet matched. I paid him the remainder of his money, gathered my parts and was preparing to leave when I finally asked him his name and he said he was Von Dutch. I’d never heard of him.

I finally sold the bike after a near accident that started my weaning from the motorcycle disease. The guy who bought it paid me 50% of the price and I gave him the bike with the agreement that he’d return on the next payday with the rest of the money whereupon I’d sign over the title. I never saw him again.

That was my encounter with Von Dutch. I still miss that bike --- well after a few beers anyway.

Alex Dade