malcolm’ s mome n ts
PART
FIVE
PAPPY MOTT
Learning about motorcycles, business and life at San Bernardino’s Mott’s Cycle
BY MALCOLM SMITH
I
was constantly fixing that Matchless, and with little money to spend on fresh parts, I found myself rooting through the trash bins of a local shop owned by Rush “Pappy” Mott for things like tires, plugs, sprockets, etc. — and getting those pieces to work on my bike improved my mechanical skills. Mott’s was your typical old-school biker shop…dark, dingy and a little dank, with girlie magazine centerfolds on the wall. The bathroom was always filthy, and you’d never catch a woman there. The mechanics were what you’d expect: bikers and racers, blue-collar guys who’d grown up around motorcycles, cigarettes and booze. A tough crowd, for sure. After catching me parts-scrounging a few times, Pappy offered me a job. “You’re always here,” he said, “so you might as well clean up.” I liked the idea and started 28
AMERICAN MOTORCYCLIST • JUNE 2022
working for — I think — 50 cents an hour. My mom wasn’t happy; Pappy’s guys weren’t the types she wanted me associating with. Pappy, who hobbled around on a wooden leg courtesy of a bike accident in his early years, was an eccentric, no doubt, but a savvy businessman, and had a lot going on. He sold and serviced new bikes (Matchless, Zundapp, AJS and a small Japanese marque called Honda, which was just beginning to make waves in the U.S.) and used bikes, but also provided financing (bike loans being rare at the time) and did a lot of used-part and salvage business. I did general clean up, mostly, and also cleaned parts for the mechanics. I’d sit there with a gallon of gasoline and a brush, or clean greasy engines or frames out back with a sprayer using old wine bottles filled with a 70/30 mix of Kerosene and degreaser. You know the old saying about a
