Thanks for the guilty pleasure of reading this. This is the golden age of motorcycles - and HD makes bikes that a lot of people love. I have no problem with the HD fans but they always seem to have a chip on their shoulder.
Funny, that! About a week or so ago, I took advantage of the unseasonably warm weather and took the Mistress out to stretch her legs. En route to some of my favorite country back roads I passed a relatively new, independent bike shop that I hadn't had a chance to explore previously, so I doubled back to give it a look-see. I did so especially because of the two easy to identify, hog-riding fools that were standing out in front of the shop pointing and gesticulating demonstrably toward me as I rode past them. They turned out to be the shop's proud, new owners.
As I had suspected, it was your typical, small, two man shop, with a bare bones inventory that clearly catered to Harley Davidson service, parts and costumes. To their credit, one of the two owners, both very affable fellows, had the obligatory biker babe girlfriend hanging about as the more-normal-than-not eye candy often found in shops such as these. After we exchanged some pleasant motorcycle-related prattle and given that there really wasn't a single thing in their store that I could or would ever purchase from them, I said my goodbyes and prepared to remount and get on my way toward greener pastures, so to speak.
Just as I was about to swing my leg over the saddle, here comes, pulling into their parking lot, maybe the sharpest looking Road King I have ever seen and I've seen plenty. Custom paint, tons of chrome, custom this and custom that, Screaming Eagle regalia from stem to stern, a NOS bottle hanked onto the left rear plus a very menacing looking appendage protruding from the right side of it's motor which I instantly recognized as a turbocharger. "Well", I sez' to myself; "I've got to have a keener look at this beauty", so I got off The Beast and walked over to introduce myself to a very pleasant, proud, yet down to earth HOG owner who I guessed was in his late sixties.
The owner of said machine began to tick off all the Screeching Turkey and other aftermarket goodies and bling he had on his rolling sofa, who did his over-the-top paint job and how much motor and mechanical work the two owners of this shop had done for him over the years (It had a 120 ci S&S in it, as I recall). He was more than happy to familiarize me with the resultant performance of his pride and joy, which he claimed made 140 hp to the rear wheel - without NOS - and I estimated he had dotingly poured $30,000 plus into the RK over and above his original purchase price, which he put at approximately $20,000! We exchanged pleasantries and I asked him a few questions about the work he had done to his glorious looking steed. Then he made a very big and, surely, inadvertent mistake. He asked me "what (I) was riding?"
I pointed beyond the two parked cars that blocked my Mulberry Mistress from his view and replied, "I ride a Triumph!", at which he said that he'd like to see it. So, we walked around the cars and a look of profound impression fell across his face as he uttered, "Oh, you have a Rocket - that's a serious machine! How big is that engine". From that point on, until we parted ways shortly thereafter, it was as though I had pierced his skin as if he was a balloon, as his entire stature and demeanor deflated right in front of me. His eyes went from meeting mine as we spoke directly to the ground and his shoulders sagged as if he just had the weight of the world set upon them. He just whistled and nodded his head at the details I provide him about my hot rod. Meantime, the two owners and the biker babe, still standing out in front of their store where they had been greeting their alpha customer as he rolled in also saw their body language and animated demeanors immediately transformed. They had become suddenly and immediately subdued, as they had already asked me and were told of what sort of work I had had performed at Carpenter Racing and the rear wheel results that Bob and Eddy's work had produced for well less than 20% of what their customer had put into his beautiful Road King. This was certainly not my intent, although my guilt was easily assuaged by my sense of good fortune and pride in the knowledge of enjoying the luxury of owning and riding one of the best of the best that's ever been on two wheels.
So there it is, my fellow R3 Captains, it seems that we are all heartbreakers to one degree or another when it comes to our preferred rides and the often astounding effect that they have upon others less fortunate than we. Isn't it a real bonus to know that we truly are the ones that "Go (y)our own way"?
