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One
of the things that we as Harley owners are often asked is how we got into
motorcycling. Even though it is a commonly asked question, I often find
myself unprepared and usually give a "bumper sticker" answer like, "If
I have to explain, You wouldn't understand". Eloquent, but a bit cliche.
So what is it then that attracts so many to spend tens of thousands of
their hard-earned dollars for a motorcycle that isn't the fastest, most
comfortable, or technologically advanced? I believe the answer is the ghosts
in the machine.
Ghosts are what transform a make into a marque. It's why a Royal Star will
never be the Fat Boy it wants to be. The rumble of a Harley, barking through
drag pipes, evokes images of the glorious warbirds of WWII. New Harleys
mimic the lines of machines from the 50s and 60s. This is all part of the
Harley mystique and marketing. But to many, it's more personal than that.
When People hear the rumbling of a Harley V-Twin, it brings to life the
ghosts in their heads. The staccato bark may cause an old man to catch
a glimpse of the young soldier he used to be, astride an olive drab WLA.
The lines of the Evo FXSTC may spark a womans memories of a high school
beau on his Pan-Head chopper. At night, V-Twin thunder off in the distance
may summon visions of the Hollywood biker image, long hair in the breeze,
as he roars through the night,...towards trouble. These are some of the
ghosts that move people to become Harley Riders.
My personal ghost is that of James David "Danny" Hood. Danny was the friend
that introduced me to motorcycles in general and Harleys in particular.
Danny's outrageous behaviour and ever-present grin earned him the nick-name
Flash. Flash and I grew up riding assorted dirt bikes in decidedly unsafe
and imprudent ways. After high school, Flash's girlfriend bought him a
late 70s Low Rider (Did I mention he had incredible luck?) Fortunately
for me, he also owned a brand-X 750. We rode together often, taking in
the Carolina foothills and Blue Ridge. That was my introduction to road
riding and the start of my longing for a Harley. Occasionally, Flash would
let me pilot his prized shovelhead. He knew that a taste of the Harley
experience would have me hooked. He was right. Unfortunately, I never got
to share it with him. He was killed in a bike accident in Daytona in 1991.
Whenever I hear drag pipes in the distance, his is the face I see. Perhaps
you have a similar ghost.
There
are also the ghosts you'll meet on the road. I first experienced this phenomenon
returning from the HD Open House in York PA. Dusk was falling as Jill and
I rode south through the Gettysburg battlefield. The night air chilled
and warmed alternately as the last vestiges of the day's warmth escaped.
The drone of my Sporty rattled the night, mimicking the fire of 100,000
rifles that once cut across the fields through which we rode. Suddenly,
the wind rose like a battle cry, then softened like the moan of the wounded.The
air smelled of wood smoke, and my mind could see the campfires on the opposing
ridgelines, occupied by the spirits of soldiers long gone.
Maybe it was my imagination, but maybe not. The spirits of those that struggled,
and gave all, are strong in places such as Gettysburg, Manassa, Fredericksburg,
and othe battlefields, as well as the Viet Nam Veterans Memorial. Maybe
the presence you feel when you ride by such a place on a warm spring evening
is just your imagination. But maybe not.
So the next time someone asks you why you ride a Harley, you can tell them
about the ghosts in the machine.......or perhaps just say "If I have to
explain, You wouldn't understand. |
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