Billy Bob has seen a lot in the past 18 months on the motorcycle festival circuit. Snowshoe. Dothan. Bike Week in Daytona.
That's a heavy itinerary for a dog.
Billy Bob is "an easy rider," says his owner, Ron Snow of St. Petersburg. "He's been to most of the bike rallies." A sedate little animal (only 8.5 pounds), he's glad to sit on the motorcycle seat even when Snow goes into a restaurant to eat. And getting him psyched up for a ride is easy, Snow says. "If you want him to come, all you have to do is start the bike."
Snow carries Billy Bob in a "Pet Pouch" ("Treat your favorite furry friend to a soothing ride," touts the product's website), the tiny pooch wearing a pair of safety yellow "Doggles" over his eyes and a U.S. flag bandana over his ears. The pair eases through more than 1,000 bikers on a Wednesday night in Pinellas Park, and Billy Bob is a crowd-pleaser, forcing Snow to stop and chat every few feet. That's not a bad thing, since Snow is a vendor on Bike Night, selling kits to add a sidecar to a motorcycle or convert it to a trike.
A small dog wearing crazy yellow goggles strapped to a biker is not the strangest thing you'll see at Bike Night at the Lube. But it turns out the guy who rides with a big green parrot isn't here tonight.
The Lube (Quaker Steak & Lube on 49th Street N., just north of U.S. 19 in Pinellas Park) is the No. 1 destination for bikers on an informal weekly circuit of motorcycle-friendly restaurants, bars and just-plain-dives in Tampa Bay. If you are a biker, you know the Lube. If you aren't a biker but drive along U.S. 19 or 49th Street on Wednesday nights, you know something is going on by the waves of motorcycles: loud noisy Harleys, quick low-slung Japanese bikes and neon-lit, bright-chrome choppers.
Bike Nights and biker-friendly events occur throughout the Bay area every day of the week, from Plant City (where the first Saturday of each month draws many bikers to downtown) to Dunedin. In addition to the Lube, Wednesday-night destinations include Biff Burger and Carlie's in St. Petersburg.
But the Lube rules them all.
Pinellas Park City Councilman Rick Butler remembers three years ago when the city was approached by Bill Church, who had an idea to open a franchise operation that specialized in chicken wings for the motor sports crowd. His site plan showed 300 parking spaces. Butler recalls laughing and asking, "What do you need 300 spaces for?"
Three years later, at 8:30 p.m. on a Bike Night, the reason is clear. An unimaginable stream of motorcycles winds its way into the Lube's oversized parking lot. Cars are turned away; employees direct them to a grassy overflow parking lot across the highway. It's the bikers who get all the perks here. Two weeks before Bike Week, the Lube hosted more than 2,300 motorcycles. (Church knows; they count each and every bike that comes in. Seventy percent of them ride more than 10 miles to get here.) During Bike Week, when many locals were over in Daytona, 1,400 motorcycles went past the Lube's counters.
On this night, one of those bikers is Councilman Butler. He's riding a Harley, but his passion is restoring classic Cushman scooters, dropping in bigger engines that turn put-put-put into a screeching zoom.
Bike Night is an egalitarian evening. Black. White. Rich. Poor. Outlaws and Christians. Cobras and Italian Angels. The Suncoast Brotherhood. A Korean War veteran. Young kids with bikes that can hit 200 mph. Older dudes with Harleys that practically drive themselves, complete with DVD players and satellite radio. Tattoos. Mohawks. Gray hair. No hair.
And non-violent. Church remembers only one fight in three years. It was over a girl, understandable and excusable.
"Bikers are very good people," Church says. "Very giving, laid-back and mellow."
Church was living in Cleveland and looking for a business opportunity when he thought about a restaurant that he'd visited in Erie, Penn., called Quaker Steak. The chain was founded in 1974 in Sharon, Penn., by "Jig" Warren and "Moe" Meszaros, who opened a "Cook Your Own Steak" restaurant in an old gas station. (They kept a 1936 Chevy up on the station's hydraulic lift.) The name was borrowed from the oil company down the road, which approved of the restaurant using its name and colors. Today, the chain has 22 restaurants in seven states, and Church has the rights to West Central Florida.
With its bike night and classic car cruise-ins, the Lube is tailor-made for people like Jerry Mullins, who rides with Councilman Butler and a handful of 50-something buddies.
As he talks about his devotion to bikes, he sits astride his limited-edition 2006 Harley-Davidson Ultra Classic Screamin' Eagle, with its 104-inch engine, satellite digital radio, GPS, individually heated seats, heated handle grips, intercom, CB radio and CD player. Price tag? $40,000.
This is motorcycle No. 28 for Mullins, who owns a 35-employee concrete pumping business and was voted Pinellas Park's Citizen of the Year in 2004. How many of those bikes does he still own?
"Twenty-eight," Mullins answers.
For Mullins, Bike Night is a chance to hang out with friends and ogle the endless variations of motorcycle design.
"It is very individual," Mullin says. "Everybody wants their bike to be just for them."
And the appeal of riding? "I don't know, it's hard to explain," Mullins says. "I rode bikes to school when I was a kid. I rode bikes to work when I got older. I don't know. I've just always been a bike guy, I don't know what it was or why."
Mullins fires up his Harley, and he, Butler and friends start their bikes and make ready to leave. One of their radios blares classic rock, if not quite "Born to Be Wild:"
"No, Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man / That he didn't, didn't already have."
This article appears in Mar 29 – Apr 4, 2006.