O.K., I thought I'd never need to start my own Harley thread, but I've seen some humour that is just too good to be selfish about. I'm tooling down a back street yesterday, and about 1,000 metres (1,000 yards off), I spot a Harley. This is not hard. It's not as hard is what our Allied soldiers -- who even studied sillouettes on their playing cards -- had to do in WWII. Even at this distance, I can tell he's wearing a fairly new Harley hoodie because I can see a trim of clean Harley orange.
Well, I know I'm in for humor. As I close up to him at an intersection, my humor is confirmed:
- Brandy new Harley hoodie.
- A forced coolness in the way he puts his feet up on the highway pegs from each intersection.
- This is rich: He's got a black bowl-type helmet. It looks like it just came out of the box minutes before this ride. I should have checked for bits of packing styrofoam.
- Better, it has about 12 stickers on it. Each sticker is the same: about 2 cm (3/4 inches) by 6 cm (2 1/2 inches). Each is nearly identical -- white border on black -- with different sayings.
- Better still, each one has been placed in a way that screamed, "I put these on my helmet one night while dreaming about being cool on my Hog."
- I am literally, and I do mean literally, almost in tears at this moment. Then, around the corner, comes another wannabee on his Hog.
- Hog rider #2 gives a *big* wave to Hog rider number #1. Number two does this in a way that screams, "I am trying so very hard to make this look cool. It reminds me of two high school students doing their best to be cool at a greet, or mebbe two terminally middle class guys trying to look like they got soul.
I just had to share this, but I'll share another almost equally as humourus (to me if no one else). I pulled in to my favorite grilled food stand. You know, that kind of local place that's old, dirty and greasy but legendary among locals. It's a stand, closed on **three sides with giant glass**, and without seats in it's little waiting area. Think 1950's, which coincidentally, would be the same age as some of the grease in the open kitchen.
Scene set, a brandy new Hog rolls in with a rider of equally new vintage. I'm at the picnic table ready to take this in. As he strips down, he is wearing:
1) Brandy new Hog leather jacket with patches fore and aft.
2) Brandy new Hog leather vest underneath with patches fore and aft.
3) Brandy new Hog t-shirt underneath with logos for and aft.
4) Brandy new Hog boots sans scratches.
He rolls up within 2 metres (2 yards) of to the stand. Now, remember that the stand is enclosed by 270 degrees (270 degrees) of glass that reaches about 1.5 metres (15 feet) high. He now gently lays his leather jacket and vest on his bike (where they could have easily been lifted despite the glass). Now, this nimrod pushes the key fob and activates the alarm: "chirp chirp." Hoo hoo, he walks into this glass enclosed stand and orders up some food while standing no more than 3 metres (9 feet) away from his alarmed Hog, and separated by about 35 sq. metres (350 sq. feet) of plate glass.
By contrast, last night I rolled into a fundraising dinner where I was to do a formal presentation. I was in my car, and the only space available was right next to a black goldwing that I would guess dates to '76-'77. The bike showed cosmetic age, but I gotta believe it's in good mechanical condition because it's still running.
I was there to do a formal presentation; however, as I'm doing the presentation, I spot a guy with a mass of beard and hugely beaten leather vest on. I snagged him just as he was about to slip out the door. "That your goldwing out there?" "Yeah." "Man that is cool." (me) "He smiles quietly and says, "They are sweet." "Yeah," says I. He walks away.
Now, if you've gotten this far, this windbag (me) signs off.