The
first time Wesley Hugh Lane ever laid eyes on a Harley was a Sunday
afternoon in 1936 when he was 6 years old.
He remembers how he felt, watching that bold machine
navigate through town with a sound like no other. He was living in
Greenback and hadn’t been much anyplace else.
“I didn’t know what it was,” Lane said. “I had never
seen one. I saw this guy riding up the road and I watched until he
went out of sight. It’s still in my head today. I knew I had to get
one.”
Today, Lane is 88, still resides in Greenback, and up
until two years ago, was still riding Harley-Davidson motorcycles.
He got his first one when he was 19 years old.
At that time, adventuring out on two wheels was more
about finding a way to deal with the grief and loss over the death
of his only brother, John Edward. He was killed on Dec. 30, 1944, in
World War II’s Battle of the Bulge. The soldier had just turned 21.
In March 1949, the family was informed John’s body was being brought
back home.
That’s when Lane asked his dad if he could buy a
motorcycle and he agreed, even helping him buy the 1938 Knucklehead
for $325. Lane also had quit school, a young boy in a sea of
loneliness and tough adjustments. Then, Lane was off, to separate
himself from the pain and to grieve his huge loss.
“Had it not been for that motorcycle, I don’t know
what would have happened to me,” Lane said. “The best tranquilizer I
ever had was riding a motorcycle. Driving down those country roads
was a whole new ball game.”
Sharing the memories
Lane has just completed a book on his adventures,
called “My Life My Harleys: More Than Just a Motorcycle.” Niece
Robin Payne helped him pen this journey on two wheels of his that
all started with a giant roar.
The son of Mary Emmalou and Robert Lee Lane, he was
born on Oct. 20, 1929. Lane has lived most of his life in Greenback,
but the numerous Harleys he’s owned over eight decades have taken
him places he’d never gone otherwise.
He and his wife, Geraldine, who went by Jerri, were
married for 58 years. She died in 2009. Lane includes a photo of her
in his book along with John Edward’s military picture. Lane is
photographed wth some of his favorite bikes in this adventure-packed
book.
While he knows his circle of friends and family
appreciate the book of familiar stories, Lane said he doesn’t know
who else might want to laugh and cry over his adventures. He will
find out on Saturday when he will hold a book signing from 11 a.m.
to 1 p.m. at Smoky Mountain Harley-Davidson. The book is available
at The Village Tinker, Smoky Mountain Harley-Davidson and Simmons
Bank, all in Maryville.
No computer was required for Lane to write down his
stories — he wrote in a notebook and then Robin Payne helped edit
and organize. Were it not for her, Lane said he probably wound’t
have even taken on a project that he began last fall.
His favorite bike was a 1951 Panhead, which he rode
on most of his long trips. It was destroyed in a wreck in 1979 on
U.S. Highway 411 South at the junction with Highway 129.
Lane said a woman pulled out in front of him and he
had no time to react.
“I went over the top of the car and landed on my head
with my helmet gone. That laid me up all summer.”
For some, that would have been the end of motorcycle
riding, but then everyone isn’t Wesley Lane. He said he got a friend
to bring his Harley over to his house while Lane was still on
crutches, recovering from a broken wrist, a messed-up right knee and
other injuries.
“He came over and parked his Harley next to a tree
and I would walk over on crutches and get on and ride,” Lane said.
25 cents and plenty of road time
His book contains so many recollections of his time
on the road. He still laughs about getting his motorcycle license.
He gave the licensing official 25 cents all those years ago. He was
only asked one question.
“Has it every got you down?” the man wanted to know.
Lane said he was told to say yes, so he did. “Then you know how to
ride,” the official said. Lane got a license without any driving
test. “You didn’t even have to have a motorcycle,” he said with a
laugh.
A few other wrecks interrupted his time on the road
but not for long. Lane chronicles them in his book, along with some
more light-hearted moments. Like the time he was driving down
Morganton Road and a hen flew out in front of him.
The safety bar on his bike cut the chicken in half,
casting chicken parts everywhere. Lane wrote that despite having
that huge mess, he continued on to his destination — work.
Fear of what could be never stopped this motorcycle
lover from going where he wanted and when.
“I have always said if I get killed on a motorcycle,
at least I will leave here doing something that I like,” Lane said.
Many of the best times of his life were trips out
West to see the Grand Canyon, Mount Rushmore, the Badlands, Devils
Tower, Pikes Peak and the like. At age 74, he made his first trip to
the annual rally in Sturgis, S.D., to commune with 700,000 other
motorcycle lovers.
He didn’t ride to Sturgis but took his bike with
him. “I probably rode 600 to 700 miles after I got there,” Lane
said.
Time to slow down
But about two years ago, Lane said he decided to
give up his passion. Holding up a large bike became too much of
a struggle.
His nephew, Gary Payne, said he went out and
bought a scooter so Lane could continue his rides. It wasn’t a
Harley.
“He wouldn’t ride it,” Payne said. “He just
couldn’t get past that it wasn’t a Harley-Davidson. That is hard
core.”
Payne and his wife, Robin, ride Harleys, too, but
Gary said he might just sell his and start riding the scooter.
“I didn’t hear that,” Lane replied. “If you are
going to ride, ride a Harley.”
Lane makes no apologies. Harleys have taken him
everywhere he’s wanted to go. He said if he was able, he would
climb aboard once more and head out to the Grand Canyon or maybe
some other desert locale.
Fortunate — that’s how Lane describes himself as
he looks back on 88 years. Just an old country boy, he said, who
has been able to breathe in this majestic country of ours.
As for that Harley rider who roared through town
in 1936, captivating Lane and forging his path, Lane said he did
learn the man’s last name was Wells, that he was from Loudon and
that he had just returned back home safely from WWII when Lane
caught a glimpse.
Despite the years, Lane said he never got over
the loss of his brother; his mother didn’t either. Lane
dedicated his book to John Edward Lane, calling him his hero and
protector. It was a Harley that helped ease the pain.
“It affected me,” he said. “He was six years
older than me. I was having it rough. When I got that motorcycle
and got on the road with the wind, that was freedom I had never
known. I never knew nothing like that feeling. It never got old.
I never outgrew it.”