On mailboxes, memories and raucous parties

by SilverStringer Don Norris

More mailbox mania, a special artwork reflecting (usually) the  mechanical bent of the sculptor. This one was found along old Highway 3, a few miles south of Franklin, New Hampshire. The place is obviously called Cooper's -- but Cooper is no longer with us; Bob, the current organizer of old motorcycle parts, said the shop-in-a-barn was originally Cooper's.

The mailbox sits comfortably on the seat of a sixties Honda street bike, advertising a rather rare business.

"I lose money if I sell a motorcycle," Bob said. "I can get three times the profit if I sell the parts." The barn is a fun place for bikies -- orderly, organized, and absolutely stuffed with parts.

It appeared that there were a couple hundred front ends stacked in one area. "That's the first thing to go," Bob said. "Front end first." When he saw my digital camera, he told me that he used to work for couple of bike rags covering mostly Harley parties that turned into friendly brawls involving lots of bare-chested babes.

He showed me his work. He had carefully saved some hundred pages from "Life Style" magazine in acetate holders. They were raucous, blatant, bare-ass flicks of several hundred people having one hell of a party. Pages upon pages. Candid, for sure.

But Cooper's is different. It's a red barn; inside it is neat, orderly and great fun for memories. Of course, those old parts are for sale. Especially front ends.

January 5, 2007

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