Cycle News is a weekly magazine that covers all aspects of motorcycling including Supercross, Motocross and MotoGP as well as new motorcycles
Issue link: https://magazine.cyclenews.com/i/125840
o o By Dick Christensen Top competitor, race tuner, promoter, inventor, journalist and tireless .champion of the sport; Bill Pliers has been all of these things over the past 60 years. Perhaps more than any other individual he embodies the true spirit of two-wheeled sport. He thus richly deserves the title, Grand Old Man of Motorcycling. CYCLE NEWS talked with Pliers recently on t~e occaSlon of his 75th birthday. The interview took place at his new home atop Mt. Axlethrash, in Speedburg, Ohio, for many years the site of a National Championship hillclimb. 16 CN: You certainly have a pleasant home here, Mr. Pliers... though it must get rather hectic up here on race days. PJjers: Well yes, it does get pretty wild. During the last National we lost two windows and some siding when a couple of the boys failed to shut down as they topped the hill. Fortunately they only sanction one meet here each year. CN: Didn't you compete here yourself, years ago? Pliers: Sure wd - three times National Champ during the Twenties. I was a slant·slamming fool in those days! CN: Tell us about some of your other competition experiences. You wd a lot of flattracking djdn't you? Both half·mile and mile? PJjers: Yes, I did, 'but that was never my strong suit. As you probably know, I was runner·up in the overall point stanwngs five differen t years, yet I never took the championship ou trigh t. The thing was, I could never really get the hang of turning left. Now if they'd run those races clockwise, I'd have cleaned up! Ah well, always a bridesma;d. CN: What about Speedway? Weren't you in England when the Milne brothers were going strong? Pliers: That's righ t, though at the time I was mostly earning· my keep as a tuner. We had some good times over there, for sure. I took to bumming around with an other tuner, Britisher name of Tommy Whitworth. Everyone called him "Stripper." Damn good man with a wrench he was too, except for one thing. CN: Oh? What was that? Pliers: Couldn't keep track of his tools. Poor devil was all the time losing something. I recall the time he misplaced his feeler gauges while sharpening up a bike between heats. Turns ou t he left 'em resting on the engine cases or some thing. During the next race they slid off and got caught between the drive chain and countershaft sprocket. Needless to say, the bike stopped in a hurry; and that sprocket, well, it had less teeth than a Civil War honor guard. Funny thing, it didn't hurt the feelers a bit. CN: Stripper Whitworth ... the name sounds familiar. Didn't you collaborate with him on a book in later years? Pliers: Yep. Got a copy of it righ there. Retard Your Timing At 70 MPH, by Pliers and Whitworth. It's a manual for mak;ng repilis and adjustments on a moving motorcycle. It wasn't what you'd call a screaming success. In fact I'm surprised you've even heard of it o.nly sold nine copies, and two of those went to my mother. Worst part of it was, old Stripper nearly killed himself doing research for that book. Me, I did the writing. CN: You were quite a board track star also, weren't you? PJjers: Well, I guess I managed to hold my own. The privateer situation back then was much like it is now; shoestringers had to be mighty sharp to make a dent in the factory domination. I was offered a works ride several times, but I just had too many things going at the time to give it my full attention. The boards never really appealed to me anyway. CN: Why was that? PJjers: Slivers. Vou come 0 ff a t say 80 per on those boards and you're going to collect enough lumber in your hide to build a five room house with garage. I've still got sljvers I picked up 45 years ago. CN: You said something about having too many things going ,to conce'1trate on your competition. What did you mean? Pl;ers: Selling motorcycles and doing stunt work, mostly. I had an Indian franchise at the time and I came up with the idea of selling InWans to Indians. CN: Somewhere in the western states? Pliers: No. Bombay. Never came to much, though. Those people didn't seem to appreciate the signjficance of the n3.Vle. By golly, I lost a bundle on that little scheme. CN: What about the stunt work? Did you ever work with Putt Mossman? Pliers: Oh, I knew Putt well. In fact he once tuned for me. CN: Vour stun t bikes? PJjers: No. My piano; he was a man of . many talents you know. I never travelled with Mossman, but Speedy Babbs and I went around in the same circles for years. Times were lean in the 30's, and motor drome was good for some bucks in you had talent. CN: Didn't you also make' some coast·tO-COa.H record attempts around that time? PJjers: Yes I wd. In fact, I held the New Vork·to-Los Angeles record, but not for long. A guy by the name of Donald N. Findley - usually went by his initials, D.N.F. - he broke my record by 14 seconds just three days after I had set it. CN: That must have been quite a wsappoin trnen t. Pliers: Well, yes it was. Of course I immediately made plans to recwm the record. I had special fuel tanks made which allowed me to carry 150 gallons - of gas on my Henderson. Had a case of oil along too; I was determined to make the entire run without stopping. The only problem was food. Finally, I just taped eigh t dozen Hershey hars allover my leathers, inside and out. I figured they would work as insulation to keep me warm at nigh t, and I could eat 'em as I went along. For liquid nourishment, I strapped a pony keg full of Dad's root beer to the front fender and ran a piece of tubing up to the handlebars. CN: And did you recapture the record? Pliers: No, I'm afraid not. It was the .candy bars that did me in. I took off in the evening and made good time all night, but when the sun came up I knew I was in trouble. All that chocolate I'd only eaten about 20 by then started melting in the hot sun. Pretty soon the stuff was oozing out of my cuffs and allover my boots. It was so slippery I couldn't keep my feet on the floorboards and I began to get cramps in my thighs. Just staying on the seat was a job. I managed to cinch up my cuffs and stop the flow, and then I tried hosing it off me by siphoning root beer allover myself. Root beer is a very poor solvent. Then another problem developed. Hundreds of bugs were accumulating on me. Instead of just hitting me and splattering, or falling stunned to the road, they were sticking to the chocolate. Many of them recovered and started crawling around. This made me itch so badly I though t surely I'd go insane. Still I kept going. All these distractions kept me from closely watching my route and I eventually concluded I was hopelessly lost. Reluctantly, I pulled into a gas station and asked the attendant where I was. He poin ted down the road and said it was about 75 mjles to the Alaska border. Then he looked me over carefully and asked if I was a member of s0lI!e unusual reJjgious order. So much for my record attempts... CN: Astounding! You say the machjne was a Henderson? Pliers: That's right. You know, I've still got that rig. 316,000 miles on the clock over a period of 40 years, and no major engine repa;rs. CN: That's an almost unbelievable record. Pliers: Well, it would be except that I've put 14 brand new motors in it. The latest is a SearsfPuch twingle. Runs just fine, though it's a bit underpowered at 800 pounds. CN: Now, about your work as a journalist. According to our information you were foreign correspondent to an American publication in the la te 30's. Pliers: I figured you'd get around to thaL It's something I don't usually talk about but it's been so long now I guess it can't hurt anything to drag out the old skeleton.