The larger-than-life Harley Davidson motorcycles barreling down Cuba’s streets today are genuine relics that still vroom along thanks to half a century of inventions and makeshift part-making. A dozen of them still run on all six and their owners, people from several walks of life, creeds and trades, are bound together by a deep-rooted passion for these rare “hogs.”

It was in the early 1960s when the last Harley Davidson bikes arrived in Cuba. Since then, no spare parts have washed ashore. Not a single bolt. Nada. Taking into account that half a century has gone by without the necessary replacements as a result of the U.S. trade embargo on the island nation, then seeing these amazing machines sputter into survival takes far more than mere admiration. There are Flathead, Panhead, Knuclehead and some K makes the Bretos house imported throughout the 1930s, 40s and 50s, and there’re even a bunch of “old ladies” from the 1920s. Many of the owners are friends or acquaintances, and through the years they have tried to get organized in a number of associations in a bid to exchange views, make mechanical solutions available to all or just to share their common passion for these relics. Thus, the MOCLAC (Classic Motorcycles of Cuba) was born, engineer Adolfo Prieto, a hog rider from Centro Habana, told us. He was wearing a pair of jeans, boots and a tee-shirt with the Harley Davidson badge on it. He welcomed us with hospitality in his living room where a door leads to room-garage where he parks his beautiful bike outfitted with polished nickel parts, black-leather seat and saddlebags upholstered in black and bright yellow. We couldn’t help running our eyes up and down that beauty for a few minutes. “This happened a few years ago,” he says. “It was as association, like a club of bike-loving friends where anyone with an old motorcycle could be a member. I mean, Harleys, Norton, Triumph, BSA…” Even though they never managed to turn it into a legal society, the road of brotherhood and togetherness has actually given them experience and strength, and has also helped them preserve this kind of rolling heritage with a special value of it own. For the good fortune of these men and their legendary machines, there have been some truly mechanical geniuses in Havana –some of them with staggering expertise and knowledge on old bikes- like the late Jose Lorenzo Cortes, a.k.a. Pepe Milesima, who took the credit for a good chunk of the inventions and patch-ups that amid the hostile scenario of the U.S. trade embargo kept those motorcycles up and running. “He used to be a slow whiner,” a friend recalls. “But we loved him so very much and all of us used to wait for him without complaints. He was a warranty sealer.” His teachings, his excellent inventions and a handful of good mechanics he trained have lived out. To pay tribute to him and to another deceased mechanic from Havana –Marcelino Fonseca– classic bike owners in Havana observe the Day of the Absent Motorcyclist every year, happening together with Father’s Day on the third Sunday of June. That day in the morning, the riders huddle some place to make a motorcade down all main streets of the nation’s capital to the Colon Cemetery. After keeping a minute of silence and reading a few words of remembrance in front of the Naturales de Ortigueira pantheon –holding 700 deep recesses and over 4,000 human remains of Galician people and their offspring– they start their motorcycles into a coarse, powerful roar, only to take off somewhere else and drink a few icy beers. “That’s our day,” Prieto beams, though he admits there’re many other moments in which they need to get together. “Sometimes we’re invited to functions and skill shows at the motorized unit of the National Police Headquarters or we just plan small tourist trips to the Viñales Valley, Varadero, the Zapata Peninsula, and even a ride around Cuba every once in a while.” They take on those trips for the sake of relaxation, in a laidback and happy mood for riding those relics, so very proud of turning heads along the way and of turning so much sacrifice and effort into a good moment of pleasure. Mr. Prieto also comments on the ties they have with international motorcyclist associations like the Latin American Motorcycle Association (LAMA). He’s the chairman of the Havana Chapter and the deputy chief of the Havana Harley Club, only for HD owners. “Mario Nieves, the international chairman of LAMA –founded in Chicago in 1975 and with nearly 10,000 members all around the globe– paid a first visit to us in 1999 and as a result of that call, the Havana Chapter came into being and is now closing in to its tenth anniversary. Since then, we have founded the Pinar del Rio, Camaguey, Cardenas, Santa Clara and Holguin Chapters.” There’s a great passion behind all this, a name, a grand brand, a legit symbol: Harley Davidson. And for HD owners in Cuba, this passion has also meant to be a challenge because each and every one of them is an old-timed machine, a museum piece that shines brighter in its beauty and elegance. For being so rare and eye-popping, every single Harley rolling down in Havana strikes the attention of passersby and it’s just that silent joy what the members of the HD Club in Havana feel every single day. Connoisseurs agree there are no more than 300 Harley Davidson bikes on the island nation. Their owners have nothing to do with that Hell Angels-like aggressive attitude hog riders are usually portrayed in some movies. There are physicians, scientists, teachers, military personnel. And even though it’s true some of them can’t stay away from that branded look of tough guys wearing headscarves, riveted boots, sleeveless shirts and tight-fitted jeans, people look up at them, above all, for having been able to keep these relics running down the roads until now.

There’s great passion behind all this: a name, a brand, a genuine symbol. Harley Davidson bikes have also meant to be a big challenge for their Cuban owners because they’re all so old, rare as legit museum pieces. That makes them far more beautiful and equally vulnerable.