Rollin' Free

Rollin' Free

UP FRONT

David Edwards

ROLLIE FREE STEPPED OUT OF HIS leathers and into the history books. Had the man done nothing more than set a 150.31-mph land-speed record in 1948 stripped down to his swim trunks and sneakers to cheat the wind, he’d still be one of American motorcycling’s most endearing characters.

But of course there was much more to Roland Robert Free than that famous photo of him streaking-almost quite literally— across the barren Utah landscape laying prone aboard a Vincent Black Lightning. It’s all detailed in a great new book, Flat Out! The Rollie Free Story by Jerry Hatfield (available direct from OneTrack Publications, 817/861 -2822).

In its 180 pages, we’re treated to many never-before-published photos and some telling insights, chief among them the revelation that Rollie Free was Harley Hater Number One, an assignment he took very seriously. From 1923 to his death in 1980, unbridled disdain for the H-D brand is what drove Free to his many of two-wheel exploits.

“I never had a gentleman’s bet with a Harley guy in my life,” he was fond of saying. “Indian was engineering-(they) spent their money changing the bike-and Harley would wait three or four years then copy it. In my opinion, all Harley would change was the headlight and the muffler each year, or the toolbox, then they had a new model. It was still the same old roadoiler they had before-all the oil went in the primary side and out the back. I wouldn’t ride behind a Harley, ’cause I’d get oil-splattered.”

The one-sided feud got its start at the 1923 Kansas City 100, a big boardtrack national. Local rider Free, then 22 and a semi-pro competing on the Midwest's "nickel-ham burger" outlaw dirttrack circuit, entered the event on a pri vateer Harley-Davidson. It didn't help that he was lapped twice in practice by the factory jobs from Harley, Indian and Ex celsior, but perceived slights and broken promises from the high-and-mighty Harley squad really set Free off.

"It was then that I made a mental resolution to make the Harley-Davidson people sorry they had treated us so badly. I dedicated my life to getting even,” said Free, who was highly principled if hot-headed. “I mean, I didn’t put any sand in their engines, but anything I could do to beat ’em is what I would do.”

“He never swore in front of ladies and he would fist-fight at the drop of a hat,” is how Free’s good friend and fellow AMA Hall of Famer Mike Parti put it.

Free took his one-man anti-Harley crusade to the streets, riding out of AÍ Crocker’s Kansas City Indian dealership. “You give me a fast Indian and I’ll fix your town for you,” he told Crocker.

“I’d go down by the Harley shop at night when they were all out front drinkin’ beer,” related Free, explaining the bad treatment passing Indian riders could expect from the enemy.

“They’d jump on their bikes, run up and crowd ’em into the curbing. Oh, they were rough” Free said, never missing an opportunity to equate the Milwaukee faithful with society’s seamier elements. “These guys were everything from second-story men on down-one of ’em was indicted for murder.” Typically, Free took up the challenge, announcing his intentions with a volley of angry backfires from his hoppedup Chief.

“I went down there-I was a little nutty of course-and said, ‘Look, I’m going to ride up and down by here, and if any of you fellas want to do any crowding, come on out,’ I says, ‘When you pick yourselves up, I’ll still be going up and down, ’cause I’ll kick front wheels with you.’”

The Harley riders remained curbside. In 1927, Free took over the Indianapolis Indian franchise, then in bankruptcy. His afterhours street racing continued to win loyal customers, especially when the lightweight 750cc Scouts, then Sport Scouts, arrived.

“The way to a sport rider’s heart is to have a fast motorcycle,” he said, making sure to keep his clients happy. Hand over $40, and Free would blueprint, port and polish your motor-as legend has it, lapping-in the valves with ash from his everpresent cigar. The shop racebike, a Sport Scout ridden by Rody Rodenberg, went undefeated for 3 XA years, amassing 38 wins and 14 track records.

“We had no trouble with Harleys,” Free said. “The 61s (lOOOcc Knuckleheads) weren’t fast when they came out; they’d only do about 93 or ’4 miles an hour. A real good one would run 101 or ’2. Hell, the Scouts would run 110 or ’12 miles an hour. All of them. I had no trouble...”

Not until 1937, that is, when Harley went to Daytona Beach with superstar Joe Petrali and a specially prepared Knucklehead land-speeder. It went 136.18 mph to set the outright American record. At the time, nothing Free could do about that, but Petrali had also notched the stock 45-inch (750cc) class record at 102.05 mph. Worse, Milwaukee sent the recordbreaking 45 to reside in the shop window of a nearby Harley dealership. In Free’s eyes, a rude taunt directed at him, pure and simple.

It was time for “Chickadee,” his tuned Sport Scout street-racer (seen at left) to come out of the shadows and onto the sand.

“I can beat the Harley beach record with my wife on the back of the machine,” he boasted. Margaret Free wisely declined, but in 1938 her hubby went to Florida and posted a two-way average of 111.55 mph, once again making Indian the fastest middleweight in America. He’d beaten Petrali by almost 10 mph.

It would take another decade and a fast black V-Twin from England for Free to extract his greatest revenge. Well that, and a Salt Flats striptease.