This story is about my purchase of a 1968 Harley FLH that belonged to a pioneer who rode it for 50 years.

Just by chance, I got a tip from a fellow I didn’t even know about an old Harley-Davidson dresser/bagger in Cincinnati, Ohio. The owner turned out to be a gentleman by the name of Wallace Erby. He was 88 years old and had been regularly riding this hawg the year before.

Wallace’s bike—which I nicknamed the “Matador”—was bought new by his brother in 1968. But his brother’s wife did not approve of this purchase, so Wallace moved up from his ’65 panhead and started an epic riding life on the bike.

Wallace was quite the character and had many stories of trips to Daytona Beach, the Black Hills and Montana with his four riding partners who nicknamed themselves “The Matadors.”

They rode all over the country in the late 1960s and ’70s. Wallace reminisced about riding their overloaded flashy, lighted hawgs to Daytona Bike Week for the same fun we all go to find. But as five young black men riding through the Deep South, it was tough to find lodging, and even meals, at times.

Wallace told me and my good friend, Dave, about finding out Montana might have snow and freezing weather in the early fall, so the guys bought ski masks.

At age 88, Wallace looked very healthy and was sharp in wit and humor as we made the deal for his longtime baby and friend. Some guys call these type of bikes lighted pigs. Wallace’s Glide had 28 lights on the rear, including the tour pack custom running (semi-truck) lights, a ’69 H-D fairing that he added with chrome balls, chrome eagles mounted to the visors of his spotlights and a dual airhorn mounted on the chrome Shovel side panels that were so popular in the day.

The bike not only featured period pieces, but also upgrades that were from the 1970s, ’80s and ’90s, like an AM/FM cassette stereo. I remembered seeing those in the showcase at the H-D dealers when I was a young panhead rider stopping to buy a couple quarts of the precious oil that was always needed.

Wallace and his Matadors were definitely trailblazers. Imagine them flying down the road, listening to Smokey Robinson or the Temptations, just like so many of us do today as we ride our “plastic pigs” with screens and high-tech speakers and sound.

I loved the fact that, with a few repairs to the starter and an afternoon rebuild of a stuck wheel cylinder (fixed not replaced), the Matador was back rolling down the road as smoothly as it did in 1968.

It just so happens that my wife had some health problems this past summer so I decided to sell this good running piece of history to a friend.

The story lives on, as my buddy, Mike, rides the big pig. And, let me tell you, when you lifted the Matador off its sidestand, it was big.

I never did ask Wallace how all he got all those lights to work. That might be part of the story that needs to be told next.

Mark R. Blackstone is an AMA member from Alliance, Ohio.