Written By Ken Kinder

I have been thinking a lot about a guy I used to hang out with when I first got out of the army. His name was Dave Skeahan. David Ayers Skeahan to be precise. We all knew him as Bub. He had just gotten out of the navy and was living in Vallejo,California. He lived with his parents and was serving an apprenticeship as a pipe-fitter at Mare Island shipyard. Bub was originally from Grass Valley, and after his stretch in the navy he decided on a trade at the shipyards as a transition back into society.

I was introduced to him by my best friend Wes, who had grown up and gone to school with Bub. Wes still had a year left to serve in the navy so Bub, Don Wirta, Bobby Young, myself and a few other out-laws used to hang out and raise Cain together. Bub used to come up to Grass Valley on most week-ends, and stay with some of the gang.

I remember on more than one occasion he would stay with me in the apartment I shared with Kent Pascoe. We traveled a lot on my motorcycle and Bub was always game for anything I wanted to do. On more than one occasion, we traveled to the motorcycle races in Napa. That was about 150 miles from home and after the race was over, we stopped at a bar between Napa and Vallejo where a bunch of bikers went after the race. We took our motorcycles into the bar and started spinning circles on the dance floor. We were all pumped up after the races and it was hard to keep from letting off steam. He was also with me when I wrecked my brother Neals motorcycle. My bike had a leak in the primary chain cover, so Neal said I could use his Norton to go on a hare and hound run with a bunch of our buddies. I had a hard time finding low gear in his bike but we were doing pretty good for the shape we were in at that time.

We were stopping at most of the bars we came to and would have a drink or two before going on to our next stop. There were five bikes and three of us were riding double. We left Grass Valley, went through Nevada City on to North San Juan and then to Uncle Toms Cabin. At this point we left the pavement, and headed west over Bullards Bar through Challenge to Browns Valley, highway 20 and eventually back to Grass Valley. Dick Moores had just purchased his motorcycle the day before this trip. After we left a bar we would come to a crossing in the road and would wait until every one caught up with the pack before continuing ahead. It was at one of these stops that we had waited a long time for Dick to arrive, when I left Bub there to go back and find him.

Without Bub on the back of the bike, I really hauled out in search of our missing buddy. Then I came to a curve and I was traveling to fast to negotiate this curve. I remember each time I rolled in the road watching Neals bike in front of me flipping over and over. It’s a miracle that me and the bike survived this spill; but other than a good dose of road rash on me, and scratches, dings and bent handle bars on the motorcycle we were both in half way decent shape. We both looked like twenty miles of bad highway, but really not that bad off. The guy that I went back for was not so lucky. After I got the bike on it’s wheels, rode ahead and located Dick laying in a ditch with a badly bent motorcycle, and sporting a broken wrist. I thought what else could go wrong? So much time had passed that a couple of the others came in search of the two of us. We got Dicks bike patched, taped his wrist real tight so he could work his levers and headed towards home. When I got back to the crossroads to pick-up Bub his only remark was “man, when you finally found low gear you really did some damage”.

I said before that I wondered what else could go wrong. Well when it started getting dark we discovered that on the five motorcycles only two of them still had both head and tail lights. So we put one in front and one in back with a dark spot in the middle. Along highway 20 there are stretches of open range and you have to be cautious of cattle crossing the road. On a couple of occassions that night we almost hit some cows crossing the road. That would have been the same as running into a brick wall. We got back home and I went straight to bed. When Neal and Dolly got back from the races in Auburn, and Neal saw the condition of his bike, I swear he would have shot me if he didn’t think I was already dead. I had a real bad case of road rash, and after the surface scratches quit bleeding, I really looked much worse than was the case. This was the only thing that saved my bacon.

And then, there was the time I was doing a little celebrating at Ramsey’s bar in Nevada City. When a guy named Smiles Davis came in and we began to enjoy each others company. After a while I said “Smiles, lets go over to Monty’s bar in Grass Valley”. “He said sure, but I don’t have any transportation”. “I said you can go with me”. When we got outside and he saw I was on a bike he said “I can’t go on that”. “I asked why not?” His reply was “I am frightened of motorcycles”. I promised him that I would ride slow and not scare him, and after a lot of pleading I got him on the back and away we went to Monty’s bar and stayed there having a good time until the bar closed at 2.00 A.M. So we headed back to Nevada City, to have some breakfast at the Sweet Shop, a restaurant that catered to the after bar crowd. When we got there and ordered our breakfast, I could smell something that was really foul. “I said can you smell that odor Smiles”, and he said “sure, you scared the crap out of me”. “I said no really I wonder what it is”. “He said really, you scared the crap out of me on the ride back”. I had forgotten about his fear and traveled a little faster than I should have.

Another time I was in the company of Bub, we were in Nevada City at the ball park watching a baseball game, when Bub asked me if he could borrow my motorcycle. He was dating a girl named Jo Ann Crowley and he wanted to impress her. “I said sure but if you do any damage you have just bought a bike.” So after he was gone for about two hours, I see him coming towards the ball park with the buddy seat in one hand, and a mirror and foot pegs in the other. “I asked where is Jo Ann, and what happened”. “He replied that things were going great until he got on this narrow road and an approaching diesel truck frightened her. She grabbed him so tightly, that he lost control of the bike, ran into a ditch, and she refused to get back on the bike. So, he gathered the broken parts and walked her home. After retrieving my bike and making some minor repairs, we were back in business.

Bub never finished his training to become a pipefitter, because in 1955, he decided to go to work for the telephone company. At that time, Pacific Bell, was really expanding and increasing their workforce. Several of the guys that lived in Grass Valley and Nevada City that used to work in the mines and woods, went to work for Pac Bell and PG&E. Those that worked for the telephone co. eventually had to take a linesman school in Chico, Ca. This was a two week course that taught you how to climb poles, using a belt and leg spurs. During the time Bub was there, I was hauling lumber to Oroville, Ca. not far from where they were staying. Bub told me, anytime I was coming through to stop and spend the night with him at the motel. He said, that the telephone company was picking up the bills for meals and motel, so he just signed my tag to that particular class, and I was a guest of Ma Bell.

This same trick held true, when a group of them were working at Lake Tahoe. They were laying a cable across the bottom of the lake to the then growing south shore and casino's. So, in 1956 before I got married, I went up to the lake and spent a week with Bub and a bunch of my friends compliments of the Bell System.

A lot of time has passed since I last saw Bub. Like a lot of people, you think of them often and wonder what ever happened to them. Bub was an usher at our wedding, and I used to see him quite often when he was prewiring homes where we were doing the electrical work. Like a lot of things, time, has a way of seperating people.

Not long after writing this story, my daughter Tana, found a friend in her workplace that goes out with one of Bubs relatives and I just found out, he only lives a couple of miles from my house. So, when the holidays are over, look out Bub.