A Shiny Harley Has No Soul
Much the same as a newborn who can't yet talk, a brand
new bike, out of the box has the potential to do great
things, but it MUST be ridden. The shiny bike can tell
no stories. Sure, it's got lots of chrome and glittery
doo-dads, but three years from now when it's still
sitting in the garage, what stories of life on the
road have you to tell? A truly admirable bike must
LOOK like it's experiences, taken out on the long road
to achieve what we all desire in a bike, which is
"character".
Take my two bikes for instance. Each, a virtual
potpourri of character. The "old" one is a
'91 Heritage. It's name is "Black Bike". It
has over 154,000 miles on it's ticker. It's done
Sturgis eight times and H-D's 95th Anniversary in
Milwaukee. Each piece of chrome signifies a birthday
or Christmas present. Each rubber lizard glued to the
gas tank represents another town I've visited along
the way. I've no room left for anymore lizards, and
Black Bike is pretty much in dry-dock now while it's
sibling, the new bike, appropriately dubbed the
"Fisher-Price Death-mobile" gets in some
chops.
The Death-mobile is a '98 FLHTC. A big fat black
dresser. Before Sturgis of 2000, I had to decide which
bike to take. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe - pack a bike and
off we go! Riding the new bike felt like
"cheating" on the old one. Ultimately, I
chose the Deathmobile for it's smooth ride, hard
weather-proof saddlebags, cigarette lighter (even
though I don't smoke) and that incredible stereo
system that's actually LOUDER than the pipes! These
days, I run XM Radio™ through it, and I can travel
all the western states and never change channels due
to lack of signal. Try that with your favorite radio
station.
The Death-mobile is pushing 130,000 miles now. It has
baby stories to tell, only half as many as Black Bike;
Buffalo blocking the road in Yellowstone, wildflowers
along the Oregon Coast Redwoods, re-tracing the Lewis
and Clark Trail, riding "no handed" while
videotaping the Vegas Strip, 120 degree heat in Utah,
the Elk at 13,000 feet in Colorado, California's Gold
Country and wonder of all wonders, Wall Drug in South
Dakota. And don't forget the place where they'll
spread my ashes one day, Highway 1 down the California
Coast! If the bike gets thirsty, I give it more 91
octane. If it needs a bath, I wait for the next
thunderstorm. If God™ wanted me to have a clean
bike, there'd be more storms. I have dead insects from
most of the western states stuck to my engine and
windshield. An undergrad insect-ologist would have a
field day classifying the entomological remains
splattered about my fairing.
Through riding, I have lived and experienced more of
life than most folks could ever imagine, and for this
I feel very fortunate. I've lived a great life, and
the “wind beneath my wings” has always been a pair
of wheels that get me from here to there. Brand
loyalty never mattered much to me, it's the same wind,
it doesn't smell any different. I don't care what you
ride, I only care thatyou ride. What matters most in
life is the memories you make with what you got. Get
out there and live life to it's fullest. Adventure
awaits! Pick a spot on the map and pack the bike for a
road trip. It don't matter if it's two weeks or just
an afternoon, get out there and see what life has to
offer. But realize, the place you choose to visit is
just the turn around point. The “real adventure”
lies in everything we experience in between. Get out
there and see what I mean.
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© 2007 Splatt. Reproduction permitted with
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