trailering to Laughlin to walk the streets in their Armor-All'd leathers. That's pretty much what I was trying to suggest in my prior comments. I drive around in the summertime with the top down in the Miata and see HUNDREDS of Harleys parked at the local biker bar while the owners are INSIDE in some dank, dark cave showing off their tats and their leathers. Wassup with that? I thought the purpose of having a bike was to RIDE! To go wherever the whim of the moment takes you. No?
Don't get me wrong. I LIKE bikes. Of my top ten fondest memories of adventures on wheels in my lifetime, at least 4 of them involve riding a motorcycle. I used to subscribe to Cycle World and such. I even remember an article from 35 years ago in some bike mag that was so well written it has stayed with me ever since. It was written by a fellow who was going cross country on a Moto Guzzi. At the end of a 600 mile day, with the sun low on the horizon in front of him, his pocket watch fell onto the pavement. For a moment, it spun along beside the bike, keeping pace, then it started to disintegrate, all the little wheels and springs spinning along, glinting in the sunlight. Slowly, slowly, the entire spinning mass fell astern, still reflecting sunlight in all directions until at last it all ended in a shower of golden sparks as the pieces hopped and bounced through the air, highlighted in the last, dying rays of sunlight.
What a metaphor for time and timelessness, for what is important in life and what is fluff. What a great story that was.
I have an older fellow who stays with us every summer. He is a retired cop who was a motorcycle officer back in the 50's. He's also a die hard Harley fan. He talks about the days when going for a ride meant wearing a spare chain around your neck and coming home with a stripe of chain lube up your back. He used to teach motorcycle riding to other cops, including how to lay the bike down and stand on the tank until the sparks stopped. HE is a motorcycle rider!
So, I don't have anything against bikes. I do laugh at the
poseurs who are desk jockeys all week long and thing they are being bad boys by tooling along with 74 of their closest friends at 950 rpm on weekends. When I ride, I don't WANT someone else choosing the way. For me, half of the enjoyment is picking your own path. But then again, my gravestone will have Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken" etched on it, so maybe that is the difference.......
What were we talking about?
