Like Two Kids at Christmas
By Tom Plackis

On a cool December afternoon the phone rang in my Long Island, New York, home. It was my good friend, Joe DePinto, calling to ask if I would accompany him to Indiana to pick up an old bike. "You bet," I said," and in a few short days we were headed westbound to the home of Dick and Wanda Winger. Dick was selling his 1941 Indian Four and Joe was excited about being the lucky buyer.

Joe and I have been friends for 25 years. We've ridden motorcycles together, socialized and were both NYC firefighters. Joe's retired now, since 9/11 and I was just reaching my 20th year with the FDNY.

In an early season snowstorm we rolled into Sweetser, Indiana, and were greeted by a man standing in a snow bank frantically waving us down. This man was none other than Dick Winger, who wanted to be sure we didn't pass his house. Thankfully, after 17 hours we had reached our destination, exhausted and hungry.

After the usual introductions, Wanda mentioned she had cooked us a meat loaf dinner. Over dinner Dick asked me what my plans were after retirement. I told him I'd like to find and restore an old Knucklehead like my father had once owned. Because of that statement, I became a member of the AMCA that very night. Dick was very persuasive.



While sharing that delicious meal, we learned that Dick's father had founded the local volunteer fire department in Sweetser. Dick asked us if we would like to pay them a visit, We chatted and they showed us their equipment and the station. As we drove back to Dick's house, I couldn't help but think how proud I was to have had such a great career with "Brothers" just like these men. It was guys like these who came to New York and helped with recovery and also attended many members' funerals after the September 11 attacks.

The following morning we walked out back to "Yesterday's Wheels," the Winger's private museum. Sadly, Joe did not buy the Indian Four. Before we left the museum on that cold, blustery, disappointing day, Dick gave us a personal tour. I happened to see a black 1940 Knucklehead looking very lonely in a corner. I asked him about the bike and he said he had owned "Blackie" for 30 years but hadn't used it in the last 15. I asked if it was for sale and he said, "No." I told him if it ever was, I'd be interested, thinking about the retirement project we'd spoken of the night before, Dick assured me I'd be the first to know if it ever was for sale.

Before we knew it, Joe and I were negotiating for the Knucklehead and another 1940 Indian Four. After 20 minutes, Dick finally said he'd decided not to sell either bike. They were too sentimental to him.

We were both very disappointed, especially knowing we had that long drive ahead of us with an empty trailer. Well, not a totally empty trailer. Dick did give us each a motorcycle toy to take home. Off we went with our motorcycle toys and a packed lunch courtesy of Wanda.

We stopped for gas just before the Interstate and I told Joe I was going to call Wanda and thank her again for their exceptional Hoosier hospitality. Wanda answered and I thanked her for all the meals and for putting us up. I looked over at Joe when I hung up and told him, kiddingly, that the Wingers were going to call us back in five minutes and tell us to come back and get those two bikes we liked so much. "Yeah right," Joe said in his best New York accent.

As we were pulling out of the gas station, my cell phone rang. It was the Wingers. They told us to turn around and come back to talk about the two bikes. We went from disappointment minutes earlier to jubilation.

Back at Dick's house the deals were made for the two bikes. I asked him if there was a bank nearby where I could get a cash advance to pay for Blackie. As only a true gentleman could express, Dick shook my hand and said. "Tom, send me a check when you get home."

We excitedly loaded up our new old iron and were on our way home once again. This time with great big smiles like "Two Kids At Christmas." And this time they weren't plastic motorcycles...they were the real deal!

It's been a little over a year since that fateful day. I've joined Joe now in retirement and we now often ride together on Blackie and "Red," his Indian Four. We didn't just gain old motorcycles, we feel like we've gained old friends. Thanks, Dick and Wanda.

The moral of the story kids is, "Always keep in mind a deal can happen even when you least expect it." And, good old fashioned hospitality still does exist.