If you are around the Houston biker community you probably have seen, met or heard about "Big Dave" Nappa. He claims to be one of the oldest bikers in the Houston area, and until he told me he was 67, I didn't believe him. Dave looks quite a bit younger than his true age, with the big shock of silver hair, compact muscular physique and perpetual tan.
Dave came by riding motorcycles quite naturally, through his father, Samuel. He doesn't quite remember learning to ride; he says it is as if he always knew how. He also acquired his career as a plumber from his father who taught him the skills that served him well. Samuel Nappa lost both of his lower legs in a bike accident but it never stopped Dave from pursuing his love of riding motorcycles.
He comes from a big family with just about enough children for their own baseball team. He grew up in Michigan where his mother still lives. This is where he developed many of his motorcycle skills including braving the elements. He and his friends rode all year round, even when the snow was piled high. They would make games out of it and more than once landed in a snowdrift.
Before following his father in the plumbing trade, Big Dave joined the military in hopes of being an MP but due to his height (which they say wasn't enough) the military put him in a security assignment. Ask him what he did and he will only say, "If I told you then I would have to kill you." He's joking – I think.
Big Dave and his wife, Betty, moved to Houston in late 70's and he admits that at first he didn't like it at all. Now he considers Houston his home and loves it. Straight forward and a straight shooter, if Dave doesn't like you he will let you know. You won't find out from someone else. Biker qualities mean a lot to Big Dave. He is honest, supportive of his friends, doesn't suffer fools lightly, and of course he loves to ride. Dave has been to almost every major Rally in the U.S. and his goal is to ride to all of them.
In the early 90's Big Dave started a group called the "Independent Harley Owners Group" that grew to have several hundred members. A group of riders whose common thread was a love of their motorcycles and a desire to ride, they held their meetings at Bryant's Ice House in Katy, Texas. Unfortunately the H-D Motor Company was not thrilled with someone infringing on the "HOG" name and, according to the stories, unleashed a pack of legal beagles to make Big Dave and the IHOG club "cease and desist." Big Dave misunderstood the word "desist" and thought they said "resist" and resist he did.
Dave's son "Little Dave" (what else?) grew up in the image of his father and learned to ride when he was too little to even get on and off the mini bikes that Dave got him. Little Dave would ride circles around the yard and then when he finally ran out of gas would beep until his dad came and lifted him off the bike.
We met Big Dave and Little Dave about 12 years ago. And although, at the time we were riding a non-Harley product, they accepted and welcomed us without reservation.
I worked a short stint at the Stubbs Harley-Davidson dealership when Little Dave was also there working in the shop. Little Dave stood out because he was so well liked and he had this lop-sided grin that made it look like he saw humor in a lot of things that the rest of us missed. (I suspect he did.)
One day we salesmen were moving all of the used bikes inside at closing time. I hopped on one that was complete with a kick-starter and began trying to get it started. This was in July, in Houston and was, of course, blazing hot. Little Dave was leaning against the shop wall, watching me and grinning crookedly. After I had time to work up a good sweat and get totally winded Little Dave walked over flipped something on the side of the bike and said "reckon it will be easier if you turn the gas on."
Little Dave was 26 when he died in 1975 in a motorcycle accident. Familiarity with the sudden death of friends is a cold reality of being a biker. But still the news about Little Dave was a shocker; losing a friend in the biker community is always tuff, but Little Dave was special to all who knew him and somehow, we expected him to take Big Dave's place eventually as the "leader of the pack".
To this day when I have any problem with my bike I get this picture of Little Dave watching from above – with his lopsided grin – muttering "reckon it will be easier if you turn the gas on. "
The weekend of his death Little Dave had planned to ride to the Hotel Blessing with friends for a good meal. Big Dave turned his grief into an annual ride to Blessing and over the years the ride has grown into a large ride with a time of remembrance.
Big Dave rides a Harley and has a trike that he finished building after Little Dave's passing. Little Dave was building the trike when he had the accident and Big Dave felt it would have been what his son would want him to do.
Weeks will go by that we don't see Big Dave but when we do it is as if no time has passed. There is always his greeting "well, there you are!" as if he has been looking for us all the time.
You'll know him when you see him. He's the biker whose statute might be short, but whose heart and soul is as large as all of Texas.
Carmen Juch