Weird Harrold’s tee shirt

This story is stolen. No, there is no plagiarism. Rather, the story idea is stolen from a story I read on my own Facebook page. An autobiographical story written by a friend of a friend. A story about the comforts of both body and mind one gets from well-worn clothing. In his case and the case I am about to state, a well-worn tee shirt.
My tee shirt story begins, as many of my stories do, in the glory days of 1971 and 1972 during the wild times that has now become known as “the SL-70 days”.
I had the little red bike for about a year when my Uncle “Jum” and his son Ted showed up at the house for a quick visit. I had only seen my Uncle Jum once before in my life and it was a first-time meeting for my cousin Ted and I.
You see, Uncle Jum had moved his family to Albuquerque New Mexico many years before and had established himself in the construction business as a welder and his job had brought him home for a short time.
Uncle Jum was a man of small stature and thin build, as best I can recall, with a small dark and well-groomed mustache highlighting his face that seemed to be the first thing everyone noticed about him. After a lifetime of hard work under desert sun and skies the covering of wrinkled and tanned leather he wore for skin hid a hard layer of muscle tissue connected by sinew tough enough for me to easily imagine my Uncle taking crap from no one.
But my Uncle also was a bit of a “wise guy” a real “ham” if you please. I mean the man could kid around and crack you up with his quick wit and humor for hours at a time.
My cousin Ted was the source of great pride and joy to my Dad. Ted had joined the Navy at the height of the Viet Nam war and was on a river boat patrol when his craft had become ambushed. Most of the men on board had been wounded or died during the fight and Ted had suffered two dangerous head wounds but he manned the turret guns and held off the enemy until help arrived.
Ted was awarded for his bravery and courage under fire and I remember Dad getting the news clipping in the mail Uncle Jum had sent to him. Dad cherished that news report and he took it to work with him one day to show all those he worked with and to brag about his Nephew. After that the newspaper clipping hung with honor in the kitchen on the cork bulletin board for a long, long time.
As I recall, I was washing or tinkering of some sorts, with my SL-70 when in the driveway pulled a light-colored flatbed pick-up truck. Mounted onto the forward end of the flat bed, next to the cab, was a giant weird looking piece of machinery that couldn’t be anything but a welder.
I don’t remember just where Dad was but I do remember Dad giving out a subdued but gleeful cheer of “There’s Jum and Ted!!”
After a few minutes of Dad and Uncle Jum greeting each other and Dad shaking the hand of his hero Nephew, Uncle Jum finally turned to me. I had been standing by patiently when Uncle Jum said “Hi Rich!” “How are you?” I told him I was fine and a few other bits of small chit-chat before I could contain myself no further and blurted out “Wann’a see my new bike?!” “Sure!” came my Uncle’s reply.
We all moved to the area of the lawn the SL-70 was resting on and gathered around it and each other with lawn chairs where we were joined by my Mom. We sat and talked for what seemed to be, hours. I sat there listening to stories of hunting of days gone by. There were stories of a Grandfather I had never known and of other family members that only appear in my memory voids as vague ghosts. I heard stories of desert places and things I saw only on TV westerns.
My Uncle and Cousin were getting ready to leave when my Uncle Jum asked me… “Rich, would you wear a Yamaha tee shirt?” Thinking it was my Uncle’s sense of humor I responded… “Nope! I only wear Honda tee shirts.” “Well, I guess you won’t be wearing this.” As he held up a tee shirt from a motorcycle shop in Albuquerque New Mexico called “Weird Harrold’s”
Wow…. A tee shirt from a motorcycle shop in Albuquerque. I stood there speechless. It was a motorcycle tee shirt from a faraway bike shop. A caricature of a motorcycle rider blasting away on a caricature motorcycle with the name “Weird Harrold’s” across the front. Wow..
“Rich!”… “Richard!” “Whad’a say?” came the stern command from Dad.
I awakened from my bliss to mumble “Thank you!” to my Uncle Jum and Cousin Ted before they had to head out to meet time restraints.
The rest of the summer that tee shirt was my “ridding shirt” and since I rode almost every day, by the end of the summer that tee shirt had seen it all, worn it all and was a true disgrace to my Mother. It had a large red Kool-Aid or soft drink stain on the front and was a mix of mud and grease stains and a few grass stains thrown in for that Coupe-de-Grasse feel and look.
I’m sure Mom and Dad thought I had ruined that tee shirt gift. But in actuality, just the opposite was true. I had cherished that tee shirt. I had honored it the only way a young biker could. It was my constant companion. It was my way of keeping my Uncle Jum and Cousin Ted close to me. It was me.
I saw my Uncle Jum just one more time before he died. That was a few years later in 1979 on a motorcycle journey to Albuquerque. Cousin Ted was the same year and journey and then again twice later. Each of those visits brought back memories of that ragged, dirty, and beautifully stained tee shirt of so many years ago.
I would give almost anything to have another “Weird Harrold’s” tee shirt. Even though the place is long gone I know somewhere in dark and forgotten places of homes and garages in Albuquerque New Mexico there is a “Weird Harrold’s” tee shirt. (Size men’s large)