Forever . . . Part No. 3

So now I'm a bit fatigued after only 50+ miles.  How am I going to ride this thing 650 to Sturgis?  It started 1st kick.  I tach'd it up and hit all the gears perfect.  I discovered part of my tension, aches & pains is nerves.  If I just relax, sit back and ride it with a lil' aggression - I'm better off.  Now I'm on a mission to Wileys - and Anamosa for free food at the J&P open house.  There's nothing for me at J&P except the free food.  It's thousands of people on H-D Ultras, FLHXs and Plast-a-Glides.  It's all pimp daddys, chrome, big wheels, over-stuffed bikes with fuzzy shit.  It's not my scene, but I will be a scene on this chopper.  Shit tied on, the bare essentials, my weathered jacket and my weathered jeans with holes and oil stains.  The red grease rag shop towel hangin' out my back pocket.  No barbed wire tattoo (isn't that the one that really brands you?)  The barbed wire one?  Well . . .  I got there.  It was just like I thought.  Cops with orange flashlights directing cars this way - bikes this way.  They sent all the bikes out in the field, but for me - I wasn't doing it.  Fuck that.  My nimble '52 chopper whipped a U-turn and I snuck into a tight spot under a shady tree, on a bed of deep grass.  Perfect parking spot which was unattainable if you rode a giant 2014 Ultra with momma on the back.  No way.  I reaped the benefits and rewards for riding a small bike to this gathering of fuzz.  I stretched out, strolled around, got an Andrews Cams Banner, some Jim's information - a nice lady at S&S gave me a free shirt since she found out I rode a panhead, and I told her my dad still had a box with an S&S address on it from Blue Island, IL (the first location) - so that was cool.  I ate free on All State Insurance - and gave a dollar donation for a couple ice waters.  Walked back to my bike where I got plenty of stares - when finally a skinny. ol' gal (who was on break from a food vendor) came over.  "My husband died years ago, but my best memories are from our motorcycle trips on his panhead.  This is just like he had it - never liked high handlebars.  I couldn't take too much, but we washed out clothes in the motel laundry.  One year we rode to Montana, Wyoming, Colorado - and we had to carry extra gas - due to the gas wars.  The stations all closed - hard to find gas.  We carried a can with us.  One thing - do it while you can - it's no good to look back.  Glad we did it - You ride safe son.  Ride safe."


Chris K said...

18 inchers might be the rage, but a 16 with lower pressure might take some of the bite out. Rubber mounted risers will help too.

I'm sure you already know this stuff.

BTW,If it were me, I'd also give up the jockey cool factor and go with a foot shift/hand clutch... not to mention a front brake but I just did.

Noot said...

Correct on all counts - kids just don't listen !