Like A Band Of Gypsies We Go Down The Highway

Well, I finally got the new battery in the bike and went riding for about an hour this evening - the bike still needs an oil change, new plugs probably wouldn't be a bad idea, and about a full day's worth of detailing (damn my chrome addiction!) but I forgot how therapeutic a ride can be. I've been mobbed at work and am knee-deep in my first serious romantic relationship in quite some time, all of which has kept my mind racing 24/7 lately. Riding is a great release precisely because I can't think about those things when I'm on the bike - I'm too busy watching the soccer mom in the minivan closing fast with her left blinker on.

The ride today also reaffirmed that I'm a dyed-in-the-wool cruiser guy, something I've almost felt apologetic for in the past. Due to my friends & contemporaries' obsession with track days and the latest in literbike technology, I sometimes feel like the dinosaur lumbering around in a herd of fleet-footed mammals that appeared out of nowhere. I remembered a column William Gibson wrote about his obsession with collecting mechanical watches where he said, "They're pointless yet needful, comforting precisely because they require tending." To me, V-Twins are the same way - even the elaborately engineered Japanese ones are remarkably uncivilized. They're loud, inefficient, and archaic. You have to constantly listen to the feedback the bike is giving you and interpret what it means. I can tell you exactly what's going on with my engine by listening to it at speed, loading the engine on a downhill, or snapping the throttle shut in second. I can tell you when maintenance is due by ear while other guys need to break out exhaust-gas analyzers and feeler gauges. Your bike might do 10's in the quarter mile, but mine talks to me. This is everything motorcycling should be to me. Watch The Wild One and keep your eye on Lee Marvin, maybe you'll understand.

Remember that we're all on the road together - it's not what you ride, it's how you ride it.