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The Beattie Files
Harleys, guns and passports
In which young Beattie meets
Dave Barr, the gun-toting definition of a
colourful character
(Ed's note: These are excerpts from young Beattie's book on some of the more colourful incidents in an action-packed life. See the end of the piece for more info.)
(by Chris Beattie, July 2024)
“How about you give this a
wash buddy,” growled Dave Barr as he pulled
back the lapel on his tattered riding jacket to reveal a
large, Dirty Harry Magnum pistol to the face
leaning into my HSV GTO Monaro Coupe. The unsuspecting
windscreen washer’s eyes grew as big as hubcaps as he
realised he was staring at a very large and lethal
handgun. What he didn’t know was that he was also
harassing one of the USA’s most highly decorated Marines
out of the Vietnam war and a man who had fought in
numerous other international conflicts during a long and
colourful military career.
At the time we were stopped at the
lights on Market Street in downtown San Francisco. The
scruffy-looking street hawker wielding a tattered
squeegee had naturally gone to the left-hand side door,
not realising that the Aussie-built Holden Monaro was
right-hand drive. Instead of pestering the driver, he
was confronted by a gun-toting veteran who didn’t
appreciate the intrusion.
“It’s all cool mister!” said the
window washer, hands now held high and backing away
while keeping both eyes firmly on Dave. He was almost
run over as traffic started to move on the green light.
“Haaa, haaa,” chuckled Dave as he
holstered the big revolver. “I fuckin’ hate those guys
gettin’ in my face. Why can’t they get a decent job.”
“Fuck Dave, if you get brains on my
roof lining you have to clean it off,” I joked as we
left the hapless windscreen washer to recover.
I had been in San Francisco about
three weeks in preparation for the arrival of our Harley
Homecoming Tour group in July, 2003, and we’d been busy
uncrating all of the 348 Harleys that we’d shipped in
from around Australia and New Zealand. A couple of
months earlier the freight company called to see what I
wanted to do with a half-empty container that was part
of a total of 23 containers packed full of bikes for the
tour. I’d only had the Monaro a couple of months and
after doing some quick measurements we realised that it
would easily fit in the leftover space in the container.
So we dubbed the GTO the official Homecoming Tour-mobile
and packed it in the container in Melbourne for the
coming adventure.
Apart from unsuspecting windscreen
cleaners, the Monaro got more than its fair share of
attention over the next few months as we made our way
across the US.
Dave came up from his home in the
small town of Bodfish, California to help out with the
uncrating and road-prepping of the bikes. By now he was
a legend among military circles and bikers for his
exploits over a career spanning nearly 40 years.
I first met Dave in Melbourne in the early 1990s when he
visited Australia on a speaking tour of local Harley
Owner Group chapters and war veterans groups. By then
he’d accomplished some truly amazing endurance feats on
his very agricultural ’72 Harley Superglide, including
riding from the southern tip of Africa to the Arctic
Circle, and completing a similar odyssey from the bottom
of South America to the top of Alaska. All of it
completely unaided and having to navigate everything
from overgrown and muddy jungle tracks to the heat of
the Sahara and the frozen wastes and tundra of the
Arctic.
Dave’s achievements were impressive
enough for any motorcyclist, but there were a couple of
aspects of his exploits that set him apart. Namely, his
two missing legs ...
After Vietnam, Dave returned home to an America he no
longer recognized. Like many other veterans, he felt
ostracised and unable to relate to others of his
generation. His sense of alienation and strong
attachment to the military saw him travel the world for
the next few years, engaging in various conflicts
including in the Middle East fighting for the Israeli
army, as well as in Rhodesia in that country’s struggle
against guerilla ‘freedom fighters’. As Dave was always
keen to point out, he fought as an enlisted officer in
each conflict, and would always bristle if anyone
mentioned the ‘M’ (mercenary) word.
It was during his time fighting with
the South African army against Angolan forces that he
was critically injured by a landmine. Apart from severe
burns, the explosion destroyed his left leg below the
knee and surgeons removed most of his right leg, too.
All up, he endured a total of 20 major surgeries,
including the amputations. As he recuperated in a
Pretoria hospital, coming to terms with the loss of his
legs and enduring hours of painful therapy and
recuperation with his prosthetic legs, he decided that,
while his military career might be over, he would embark
on another mission.
Determined not to surrender to his
disability, he arranged to have his old Harley shipped
over to South Africa and set about planning for a ride
that would take him through some of the continent’s most
inhospitable – and hostile – terrain. It would be the
start of many epic rides that would see Dave crisscross
the world and set many endurance records in coming
years.
Underlying his extraordinary feats
of endurance, courage and sheer bloody-minded tenacity
was a need to inspire others with life-changing injuries
to never give up. In particular, wherever Dave roamed –
and his efforts include riding across Russia in the
middle of winter on a 1200 Sportster provided by
Harley-Davidson, a similar effort across China, plus
crossing Australia to all four extreme points of the
compass – he would make contact with veterans’ groups
and visit hospitals where severely injured armed
services personnel were coming to terms with their
shattered lives. Dave would share his own experiences
and attempt to inspire injured veterans to take up new
challenges, rather than simply accept their fate.
In Russia, in particular, his
message resonated with victims of the savage war in
Afghanistan, and Dave developed a close affinity with
the Russian Army – so much so that an Army General
intervened on his behalf when he applied for permission
to ride his bike across the country in the middle of one
of the most severe winters the country had experienced.
The sympathetic General used his influence to get Dave
the required permits and even presented him with a brand
new prosthetic leg, made with components from Russia’s
space program.
After I first met him in Melbourne,
our paths crossed numerous times and we became firm
friends. Whenever we travelled together, he would never
use a bed, preferring to sleep on motel room floors. He
explained that an adult life spent in conflicts around
the world had conditioned him to a lack of life’s basic
comforts.
In San Francisco, his help with the
tour was immeasurable. He was able to help my tour crew
with all aspects of the bike uncrating and any
mechanical work that was needed and he also offered to
give our tour group a briefing on the pleasures and
pitfalls of touring the US by motorcycle.
“Apart from the women, there are
quite a few other hazards to beware of,” he joked as he
addressed the group at a special welcoming function we
hosted at a campground in Big Sur on the group’s first
night on the road. He went on to point out the many
natural and other hazards that tour members might
confront over the next two months and spent the rest of
the night regaling tour members with his own experiences
of life on and off the road across the world, as well as
his combat experiences.
Over the years, Dave also found time
to document his many adventures, publishing three books
– Riding the Edge, Riding the Ice,
and Four Flags – covering his
motorcycle and military exploits. Plus he has wrtitten Thug
Force 1, described as a parody of USA drug and
foreign policy. They are available from amazon.com.
I encountered one of Dave’s comrades
in arms from his time in the South African Army a few
years ago. Rusty, from Rusty’s Bayside Cycles on the
Sunshine Coast in Queensland (Australia), recounted a
few of Dave’s more colourful exploits during his time in
uniform. As his old mate said at the time: “Dave was a
real hell-raiser. Just as well there was a war going on,
because it kept Dave occupied. If he didn’t have someone
to shoot at, he was very dangerous to be around.
Especially if there was a bar nearby.”
Years down the track, Dave is much
mellowed, at least in terms of his capacity for alcohol.
He gave up drinking and found solace in religion and
these days lives a quieter life in the mountains near
Bakersfield in California, although he still finds time
to ride long distances across the US in support of
veterans rides and events.
We still keep in touch on a regular
basis and these days he and his son live a still
not-so-quiet life in the hills outside California’s
spectacular Yosemite national park, where the hills and
valleys occasionally echo to the sounds of gunfire and
artillery being fired. They play with their armoury of
weapons accumulated over Dave’s lifetime of military
adventures. Dave remains a very proud and fiercely
committed American patriot and is ever-ready to take up
arms again, should the need arise.
“The world is not in really good
shape at the moment old buddy,” he opined ominously in a
recent phone conversation. “I don’t know where it’s all
headed, but I can tell ya we’re ready for anything up
here,” he chuckled. He then described some of the
weaponry he keeps oiled-up and loaded, should
circumstances require it and whether you come at Dave
with a tank, airplane or army, any adversary should
think twice about taking on this seasoned veteran.
In a lifetime spent fighting and
overcoming adversity, I think anyone getting on the
wrong side of this incredibly accomplished soldier,
patriot, motorcyclist and adventurer would be
well-advised to think again as, from my own experience,
you don’t want to get him riled up. Especially if you
make a mess of his windscreen.
A truly unique and memorable
character who inspires everyone he comes across.
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