Richard Ostrander: In Memoriam

Richard Ostrander with his last build, a 1948 Harley Davidson 45” flathead.

Words: Mike Blanchard Photos: Ostrander family archive+Blanchard

My friend Richard Ostrander died a few weeks ago, September 19, 2025 to be exact. I don’t mind saying that it has been an emotional time for me as I am sure it has been for his many friends and his family. I have never seen anyone approach that point with more dignity or good humor. I well remember the day he called me 18 months ago and bluntly announced “I’m dying.”

A few days prior he had had what they thought might be a small stroke while visiting a friend. At the hospital they discovered a large brain tumor. He told me that no man had had a better life or friends and he had lived it to the full and he felt he could check out with his head high. That shook me.

They operated a couple days later and I was so relieved when he called me in high spirits and said it was all going to be well and he was going to ride again.

He was one of the most dedicated motorcyclists this country has ever known. The man put hundreds of thousands of miles on motorcycles riding all over the country.

Rich was a veteran who served in Vietnam from 1967 to ‘71. He was master metal man, welder, fabricator, finisher and designer whose professional life was spent in shops. For many years he rode his motorcycle rain, snow or sun to his job. Often these were long bikes or bob jobs. But his interests weren’t narrow, he and his wife Kathy drove English sports cars for years, their home decorated with beautiful craftsman era style.

Rich was a good friend to Rust Magazine over the years. He was prolific writer with an everyman style informed by years of hands-on experience building things and an encyclopedic knowledge of the history of motorcycling. He built this knowledge base bit by bit, collecting resource material and spending years talking and riding with the men, and women, who made that history. There was very little in the world of motorcycling that he could not discuss in an informed way and usually he knew the guys involved.

One of the best issues of Rust we ever put out had a high-school-aged Rich on the cover astride a Harley with a friend on the back flipping off the camera. Man, the letters to the editor poured in when that came out. And we couldn’t have been happier.

He wrote articles under the name of Dr. Sprocket and his work appeared in magazines around the world including Greasy Culture, The Antique Motorcycle and The Vintagent. He could talk about any kind of bike with knowledge and appreciation. He didn’t care if you rode a Vespa, a Cafe Racer or a San Francisco style long bike he was down with two wheels.

Richard was a moto historian and story teller and that’s how I came to know him. When we began publishing Rust in 2002 he sought me out and introduced himself. We found common ground in vintage motorcycles and cars and the stories of the men and women, past and present, who made them their life’s interest; riders, racers, builders and enthusiasts, these were his people.

He and I would share vintage photos and go over them trying to figure out the bikes and locations and cloths trying to wring every bit of information we could from what was in them.

Richard’s motorcycle sculptures are treasured by the people who own them.

Rich was a stalwart of the Antique Motorcycle Club of America and the historian of the Fort Sutter Chapter of the club. For many years he was instrumental in putting on the club’s Dixon meet. When I first met him he was riding a 101 Indian Scout with veteran Indian racer Bobby Hill’s signature on the tank. But he had many Harleys and even a BMW airhead.

As I have noted, Rich was a master metal man. In later years he began making beautifully detailed motorcycle sculptures of antique bikes and bikes he had owned. Made of steel out of all manner of bits of metal from chopped up nuts and bolts to any chunk of steel or iron that could be made to stand in for a motorcycle part. He finished his last sculpture, a Knuckle powered long bike, a few months before the end.

Richard was working on articles right to the very end. In the 18 months since his diagnosis and he churned out articles, mostly by using voice to text software. He had me scanning old photos and sending them off to various publishers to accompany the articles.

He didn’t want to leave unfinished business. In what was, I am sure, a very emotional moment, he gave his prized Knucklehead to a younger friend who he knew would love it and ride it as he did. He went through his extensive collection of resource material and found appropriate homes for it.

The week he died, a piece he had been working on with Greg Williams was published in The Vintagent. He texted me excited that it had come out and was everything he had hoped for. The week before he laughingly told me he was going to be off on his next adventure. His last words to me were that no man had ever had such good friends.

We, or at least I, am getting to the age where we are starting to loose friends with more frequency. It is a very sobering and sad experience that, after all, is as much a part of life as anything. I hope when my time comes that I can have as much sang froid as my friend Richard Ostrander. God speed my friend, we’ll see you down the road.

We have an article that will appear shortly in rustmag.com that Rich wrote on the Hollister wing -ding in ’48.

Richard is survived by his wife Kathy and his son Scott.