On a Steel Horse

Former St. Paul Police Chief Bill Finney likes to tell people that in a past life he was a pistol-slinging, wild-West lawman. This deep, hidden history, he says with a wink and a smile, explains his long career in police work, his impressive collection of Colt six-shooter “peacemakers,” and his garage full of motorcycles. (Unfortunately for him, he’s allergic to horse dander.)

Finney’s love for motorcycles emerged back in the 1960s, when he was an impressionable teenager. He heard an ad on the radio that ended, “You meet the nicest people on a Honda.” Finney rented a Honda for a weekend outing and was immediately hooked. Traveling in the open air, under bright blue skies: To him, motorcycles came to represent freedom and independence. It wasn’t long before they were demanding his full attention.

Every August, Finney makes a pilgrimage to Sturgis, South Dakota, home to the nation’s most prominent annual motorcycle rally. Last year, just a few months after retiring as police chief, Finney rode out with the Posse, a group of friends who are mostly law enforcement officials themselves. He chose his 2004 Boss Hoss three-wheeler for the trip, which sports a 385-horsepower V8 engine. Finney customizes all of his bikes, and this one is painted a deeply glowing ruby red and embellished with flame graphics and a gold star that says “El Jefe—St. Paul Posse.”

All of Finney’s bikes have two things in common: They have a distinctive, truly Finneyesque look—and they are American-made. The others include a 2000 Harley Davidson Road Glide, which is distinguished by its large, skirted front fender, mag wheels, and custom black paint job; a 2004 Swift Bar Chopper; and a 2002 Indian Chief. Finney refers to the last as the “police chief,” since he’s painted it black and white and added flashing red lights like those on motorcycles ridden by 1950s-era traffic cops. He even pulled over a van once while riding it. (The van had a flat tire, and he called a tow truck for the driver.)

Given the chance, Finney waxes philosophical in describing the camaraderie of the road and the beauty of the countryside, seen close up and at high speeds. “It’s not about getting there,” he says, “it’s about the journey.” Just as in the days of wagon trains and search parties on horseback, a little rain never gets in Finney’s way. “People don’t live in the weather,” he says, “they adapt to live through the weather. Riding in the rain can be, and is, a fantastic experience.”—Pat Lindgren