Hardly Dangerous

It's because of motorcycles that I quit going to church. I saw God more often on a motorcycle than I ever did in a church.

There are several ways to interpret that phrase. Most folks would probably think that I scared myself in near-death experiences, and I have done that a few times. In reality, I skipped church one sunny Sunday morning and spent the time cruising through the country. Even over the noise of the engine and with hearing and scent insulated some by a helmet, I could not recall feeling so close to nature; the fresh aromas of the countryside, the sounds of birds singing, the feel of the machine as I leaned into the corners. Some find the same serenity on a bicycle or hiking or aboard horseback, but for me it was the motorcycle.

I don't ride motorcycles any more. Much of my disposable income is tied up in old cars, and I already have enough projects to keep me busy for decades. Few of my friends ride any more. Some have been injured on bikes; some have died. Consequently, I prefer the full surround of an automobile for traveling these days.

1961 Indy 500
A typical HOG gathering (Harley Owners Group).

A discussion of motorcycles would not be complete without a comment about Harley-Davidsons. I don't understand the attraction. They are archaic, overpriced, uncomfortable tractors. Once upon a time they were the epitome of two-wheeled machines, but today there are few bikes that could be considered worse. Most of the offerings from Honda, Yamaha, Suzuki, Kawasaki, et al, are far superior technologically. BMWs are, for me, the standard by which other bikes should be judged. Even the Italian bikes have a certain flair, similar to the exotic but persnickety cars from that region.

What gets me most is the contemporary stereotype of a Harley rider. At one time, Harleys were the bike of choice for outlaws. Good guys rode Triumphs, BSAs, and Nortons. Movies like "The Wild Bunch" and "Easy Rider", and the legends of the Hells Angels fed that don't-give-a-damn image. Today's stereotypical Harley riders are usually successful business people who would never think of getting into a bar brawl. Few would even go to a bar, or would eschew alcohol if they did. Of course these are more enlightened times when it comes to slamming a fistful of beers then hitting the road, but you get the meaning.

Nowadays the Harley rider is soft. They keep their bikes garaged and covered. They own SUVs and special enclosed trailers to tow their bechromed behemouths then ride them only short distances. The leathers they wear are not for protection but for fashion; a uniform that reeks of conformity. They are more likely to be welcomed to dine at a specialty restaurant than to send the residents scrambling when they invade a roadside burger joint. Harley clubs are more likely to be working with the police and government agencies to make riding safer than to be battling the cops with chains, baseball bats and broken bottles. They are the antithesis of the Hells Angels image.

Customizing is big with Harley riders. But much of the customizing is done with off-the-shelf pieces. Sure, there are places that will bend some tubes to create a Harley to the owners' specifications and charge exorbitant fees to do it, but the average rider personalizes his machine with bolt-on accessories.

Exhaust is often the first modification, because it usually translates into more useable power… and more noise. There are few things more annoying than the gargle of a Harley twin with open pipes. There are those who claim "Loud Pipes Save Lives". In reality "Loud Pipes Indicate I'm a Moron."

Not so many years ago, Polaris Industries - which originated in Roseau, Minnesota, and is best known for snowmobiles and ATVs - got into the motorcycle biz with the Victory line. But did they choose to create something new and different to attract business from those who might buy a high-tech Japanese machine? No-OO-oo, they copied the V-twin Harley design, apparently to capture a few of the conformists who are pretending to be non-conformists.

About twenty years back there was a parody of a Harley-Davidson ad that showed an overweight guy astride a "Hardly-Dangerous" exer-cycle. The tattoo on his bicep read "Born to Lose ... Weight". It was funny at the time, but today seems to have really hit the mark. Sometimes life turns out to be funnier than the old jokes.