November 2019 | SMITHSONIAN.COM 47MAP: GUILBERT GATES
Though Cuba is
celebrated for its
vintage cars, at
Chacón 162, a
bar in Old Hava-
na, the vibe is all
about old motor-
cycles, including
a vintage Harley
donated by
Ernesto.fans today, they were older, affl uent and a little stout.
Soon we were all corralled by Ernesto’s biking partner
and best friend, Camilo Sánchez, a wiry fi gure with a
silver goatee whose father had been killed in Bolivia
with Che. The trip’s organizer was a tiny, animated
Cuban woman named Ina, who kept los chicos, the
boys, on schedule. Ernesto called her mi comandan-
te, a reference to the top rank in Fidel’s rebel army.
Ernesto, we soon found, was not entirely anony-
mous. As we stood by the Harleys in the hotel drive-
way (sometimes I rode with Ernesto, other times I
followed the group in a car), he was stopped by some
older Cubans who asked to take a photo with him.
Ernesto amiably posed with them. “There’s no harmin it,” he shrugged. “It’s like Havana Hollywood!”
As Ernesto climbed onto his black Harley, he put on
a shiny new German Army-style silver safety helmet,
provoking teasing from his friends. “Looks like you
made friends with Hitler!” Ina laughed. “You terror-
ist!” Before setting off , Ina gave the bikers a briefi ng on
the island roads. “You have to look out for cows, goats,
dogs, cats and drunken Cuban people!” she warned.
“Pay attention! We forgot to bring the body bags!”
Within an hour, the motorized traffi c of Havana
had given way to push bikes and mule carts. While
Havana is no longer “stuck in the 1950s,” as the cli-
ché about Cuba goes, the countryside has an undeni-
ably retro air: Weather-beaten men in straw cowboy