Friday, January 18, 2013

The Legend of the Amazonian Clustka Motorcycle Girl


The beautiful Sierra Nevada during the winter.
On a recent ride through the Sierra Nevada’s winding roads, enjoying the beautiful mountains winter has brought us, I desperately needed to find somewhere to warm my feet and fill my stomach with some delicious grub. Riding outside of South Lake Tahoe I was able to find a small, family owned deli that I decided on as soon as I saw a sweet Harley with the most peculiar paint job.

The old Road King was painted a deep green with waves of black that slightly reminded me of a thick forest.  On the tank was a girl in pin up fashion colors wearing what looked like gorilla tactical gear.  She stood out in detail against the abstract background of forest colors.


Upon entering and getting settled with a nice bowl of soup, I was expecting to find a fellow stereotypical biker that I could strike up a conversation with and inquire about his Harley that I become very interested in. Anxiously waiting for my sandwich I looked around only to find one other soul in the entire shop.  The tiny old gentleman who had taken my order behind the counter. I asked, “Excuse me sir, have you seen the owner of that bike parked out front, did he come through here? I want to ask about the paint.” He patiently smiled and replied, “Let me tell you the story behind my bike.”
The original 1910 Harley Davidson logo.

I wasn't prepared for what this very unlikely rider was about to bestow upon me. The epic legend of the Amazonian Clustka Girl was an old folktale common in the central regions of South America of a woman traveling throughout Peru, Bolivia and Brazil on what could have been one of the first Harley's in the early 1900's. She was the only survivor of her village, which had been tragically overrun and pillaged by savage burglars when she was still at a very young age. She fled to the mountains to keep hidden from the enemies that took the only things she had away from her.

One of the earliest models Harley Davidson produced.
She found refuge in the home of an old hermit who lived off of the land in a small mountain shack. He couldn't bear to see such a beautiful woman struggling to survive all alone without a family, and took her in. They spoke of what had happened to her and the old caring hermit was infuriated. He swore the young girl would have her revenge. He spent countless hours training her how to defend herself, how to keep an advantage over the ruthless men of the mountain and most importantly how to move swiftly through the mountains on a motorized two-wheeled vehicle unfamiliar to the locals of these areas.


After years of intense training and familiarizing the young girl with the rough terrains of the Andes mountain range and his first edition Harley Davidson, the old hermit decided it was time to make their move. Instead of searching the vast mountains for these ruffians, the old man decided the best plan of attack would be to find a similar village to those that have been targeted and destroyed to use as bait.

As with the legend, the old man and the young woman sprung their trap upon the arrival of the wild pack of burglars with a guerrilla style hit and run tactic while both riding on this hermit's motorcycle. They blazed through their prey like knife through butter using a wide variety of weapons. The brutes were so amazed and taken aback with the loud noise this new, awesome vehicle that they were stunned and defenseless in the attack. The young woman and old man were able to defeat every single last member of the pack with merciless vengeance.

The kind deli owner brought me my sandwich that I had forgotten about with a steady grin on his face. He knew I was enthralled with his tale, be it myth or true retelling. I was very impressed with his detailed explanation of this stunning woman and her tale of vengeance  He stared at me in silence for a few minutes before going into detail just how breathtaking this woman's magnificence was. I glanced out the window and could see that she was clearly the inspiration for the painting on his Harley.

Without any defining conclusion to the story, the old man brought me my check and wished me a good day. He simply told me that he and his girl “Andréa” had spent a lot of time with a very fulfilling journey of protecting other villages and innocent residents from these unruly mountain men of the Andes. I returned a blank stare as I was confused on whether to believe that he was the man from this far fetched tale. I wanted to believe so badly. He smiled his smirk and told me he will finish the tale upon my next visit, which I absolutely cannot wait for.

Tune in for our follow up when I make another trip to this very unlikely sandwich shop. I couldn't comment on the food because I have only been able to think about the woman from his bike ever since my visit.

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