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When I use the term Whatzit, it's more of a model designation than a name. It was and still is an amalgamation of parts that would make the author of "What Fits What" think about making additions to his book. It's real "name" is Skidmore, and was originally brought to life in 1980 after my 7 year absence from two-wheel travel.
I was living around St. Louis working with a regional touring rock band and wasn't using some of the ground rigging for my lighting system. I had a chance to sell it and the money became my grubstake to begin my dream of owning a *real* Harley. Back in the late '70s, even parts bikes were considered Harleys, whereas today they're called "customs". Since I had a knack for wiring I was also bartering my labor for dresser parts laying around garages, since one of the first things that happened when someone tore down their bike to chop it was to cut their factory harness off, and then when they went to rebuild, they were lost.
When I first rolled the Whatzit down the hill in second, took my foot off the clutch and it came to life, it had flat black primer paint on the tin, a 21" front wheel under a full fender, early DuoGlide frame, a HydraGlide front end with side mounted 5" round headlight, full rear fender and a '78 FXE seat. The engine was a late '70s Shovel upper with a '53 Pan lower end. My friend Gene was a painter, and kept telling me that the flat black had to go. Personally I liked it, thought it looked mean, but I eventually gave in. He brought back my tin painted gloss black with large silver and red metalflakes. Oddly, he painted his bike flat black a few weeks later. Hmmm.
I was running a magneto and 6V generator without a battery or capacitor, which meant any time I slowed down the lights went out. I was riding to work one evening and got rear-ended, shot across a median and t-boned by *another* car going the other way. Of course it was hit and run, and I got nothing out of the deal. I remember waking up in the emergency room with the cops asking me about the registration on my bike. Since I hadn't bothered to do that yet I just groaned and went back to sleep. Luckily my work buds had loaded the bike in one of their pickups, and I never heard any more about it from the LEOs.
One of the earliest photos I have of the Whatzit, with myself (the guy with the big gut) and my friend Bobby. This was the incarnation after the wreck, sporting the newer Showa front end traded for the worn-out HydraGlide. No extended tubes were available for the Showa at the time so I made a dandy trade. The band had accident insurance on me, and I stiffed the doctor on his last payment, so I replaced the FXE seat with the frame-mounted LePera solo. I still had the factory shift pedal modified with aircraft cable to act as a suicide clutch, jocky shift and open primary with hastily fabricated shroud made of 1/8" aluminum. I eventually bought some rattle-can metalic blue and silver paint and did a two-tone job on the fenders with the tanks all blue. I sure wasn't going to trust Gene's judgement again.
When the band laid me off I went back to Tennessee and another band. I was ready for a different paint job so I talked a guy I knew into shooting it if I bought the paint. I went one Sunday to the auto parts and asked the kid behind the counter for some blue. I believe what he gave me was base color without the white to lighten it up. I handed the materials and tin to William and got back parts painted a dark purple. I ran with it for awhile, then got knocked off the bike again. Since I still hadn't bothered to register the bike, I decided not to take action against the neice of the town lawyer who had pulled the left across my lane.
By this time I had my own compressor and spray gun, and decided to paint the Whatzit as orange as a caution sign. I thought of calling it The Great Pumpkin instead of Skidmore. I was riding near a construction site on a blustery May afternoon and 40' of scaffolding blew across the road in front of me.
Anyway, I went back to William and had it painted white, which it's remained. Around 1995, 15 years after it's birth, I began the process of registering the bike, and had to take some photos for da law.
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