Senses working overtime

Have you ever thought about how much motorcycle riding is a very sensual affair?  Our enjoyment (and safety!) means that we bring our five senses constantly into play as we use and enjoy our bikes.

Even the way we describe our rides reflects its physicality.  Feeling the wind in our faces.  The sensation of the road through our handlebars.  Being at one with our bike.

Occasionally, there’s even a spirituality in riding that comes from and surpasses your senses.  Often, when a ride really comes together, you end up in a zone where your subconscious mind looks after the routine elements of riding, leaving your mind free to wander.  When this happens, your heightened senses make you one with the landscape, leaving intense images, sounds and smells seared into your brain. 

If you’ve ridden for a while, you’ve had rides like that.  For me, it was an 18-day jaunt to Uluru, Alice Springs and the Australian Outback – a sublime ride to places I’d never been before.  New roads, new sensations. 

Like Burra, the point where we started to cross the line into the Outback and a first exposure to the space that is the essence of Australia.  A landscape flat in every direction, with no major landform to break the impression.  Space like that can cause anyone to wax a bit poetic and I was awed by what unfolded each new mile.

Like a pure blue sky with a few scattered fluffy clouds that looked as though they had been placed there purely for effect.  An effect so perfect that it seemed as though the sky had been painted in by some enthusiastic artist.

Like a flat horizon in every direction.  A sense of isolation, of "nothing here".

Like the Hay Plain, where a low to the ground haze gradually transformed into a solid cloud of hopping, flying, squishing locusts. 

Like roadkill, where massive roadtrains had left kangaroos on the side of the road in varying stages of decomposition.  Certainly makes for a variety of scents, as heightened senses discerned a difference between each one.

Like the ancient grandeur of Uluru, it’s calm serenity rudely shattered by the thunder of thousands of Harley-Davidsons.  An eerie juxtaposition of the modern and the timeless.

The thought repeatedly came to me as I was riding that we are extremely lucky riding Harley-Davidsons, especially in Australia.  We’re blessed with exceptional scenic beauty of a type not often seen anywhere else in the world.  Maybe touring on a Harley is not for everyone.  But, on two wheels, we experience parts of the country in a way that most people never could.  We’re in it, and every sense is engaged.

Is service important?

I don’t know anyone who doesn’t like good service.  I certainly do.

I love walking into my favourite coffee shop and hearing them say, “The usual, Michael?”  I’ve been visiting the same music store for over 25 years.  They know me, they know what I like.  I enjoy walking into my Harley dealer and being greeted with a smile.

That’s why I was really surprised and disappointed with a bad experience with a Harley dealer while on holidays recently.

Harley-Davidson dealers each offer a range of “individually branded” t-shirts.  These are normal H-D shirts embellished with the dealer’s own unique design.  Some, like Hacienda Harley, in Scottsdale, Arizona, and Warr’s, in London, England, have really great designs with special artwork.  Others, like New York Harley-Davidson, are very basic indeed.  But we still collect them!

Earlier this year, we visited Rome, Italy for a holiday.  You can imagine how impressed my wife was that the most important thing for me was to get a t-shirt from the local dealer.  Not!!

Rome has two dealers – H-D Roma, and Forum H-D – within several blocks of each other, and soon after arriving, we headed to check them out.

The first, Forum H-D, didn’t even stock dealer-branded shirts.  “No Forum H-D back-prints” was the sign plastered round the store.  The chap in the store was pleasant, apologising and offering me other stuff – caps, patches and so on – but t-shirts it had to be, and I dispiritedly left the store, American Express card intact.

The second dealer, H-D Roma, ranks as probably one of the rudest stores I’ve ever visited.  I won’t bore you with all the details, but their stock was poor, and their attitude was far worse.  The woman staff member completely ignored us for 15 minutes, then went on to make it quite clear that I was an imposition on her day, and that she would prefer it if I just went away and stopped bothering her.

Funny way to run a business.

You may read this as simple whining about a bad shopping experience, and on the surface, you’d be right. 

But my point is this.  We all ride Harley-Davidsons because we choose to.  Harley-Davidson recognises this and their corporate marketing keeps giving us reasons to do so.  They tell us that we’re important.  They tell us we’re elite.  They tell us that we stand apart because we’ve chosen H-D.

They spend a lot of money doing that, and incidents like those above don’t help.  In these difficult times, Harley-Davidson should insist that people who represent them lift their game.  We want to be treated like someone who’s valued, someone who’s important.  They’ve told us we are, and the delivery should match the rhetoric. 

They’ve told me I’m special.  I’ve chosen to believe them.  Now I expect them to treat me that way.  Every time.

Women!

I’m a member of Harley Owners Group.  Each chapter has as number of Road Captains who organise and marshal rides.  We recently appointed a female Road Captain.

You know what I heard?

A couple of our members were heard to say they would never follow a woman, and suggested we were turning into a knitting club.

Now, the world of Harley-Davidson is traditionally a male domain – chrome, steel, leather, drinking, tattoos and swearing.  The real world, however, is changing and these days, women can do just about anything.

It’s been said that women can’t ride as well as men.  It’s been said that they can’t control their bikes as well as men.  It’s been said that women have no place at the front of a Harley.  Well, to those who say those things, I would suggest that you take a look at some of the guys riding Harleys.  V-Twin death-wishers with extra chrome.  Not all, but enough.

For my money, I welcome the increasing trend of women riding Harley-Davidsons.  One of my best friends, a woman, has a Fat Boy and a 1200 Sportster.  Another has a new Softail, and a 1959 FLH called Randall.  Yet others have gone through the long (three year) process of learning and riding small bikes on probation, and are now looking forward to soon gaining a full license and riding their own Harleys.

The female road captain I mentioned is one of the most capable and enthusiastic riders, of any gender, you could ever hope to meet.  Her rides are always well-planned and safe.  Unlike some, she’s never lost people on her rides – either by accident or simply by poor directions.

Women riders don't detract from my enjoyment of riding.  In fact, a bigger pool of riders offers even more opportunity to share the fun with others.

Bring it on!

Taking the cure

It’s not uncommon these days, at least in my part of the world, to hear about male depression.  In Australia, it’s known as the Black Dog and it's getting a lot of high-powered attention.

Depression is characterised by changes in mood, lack of motivation and generally not enjoying life, amongst other things. 

That’s how it was for me.  Just a general feeling that things weren’t very much fun.  Crappy moods.  Not enjoying things.  No fun to be around.

Like a lot of guys, I don’t/can’t/won't talk about it.

So, I got a Harley and everything was fixed.  Right?

Well, kind of, but not exactly.  The Harley was a circuit-breaker, something very different to anything in my life at that time.  It snapped me back to reality.

I still have bouts of depression from time to time, some of them bad.  When these happen now, the Harley gives me time to think.  Time to be on my own.  Not for me the addictive charms of an iPod with a playlist of my own (or someone else’s) choosing.  All quiet except for the wind and the soothing sound of a loud exhaust.  Not having to talk to anyone.  Nothing to break the spell of the zone, when the corners, the road, the throttle, even the other cars on the road, seem to fall into perfect harmony.  Stopping at the end of a particularly wonderful section and thinking, “How good was that?”

It’s not a cure, but it’s a fine start.

Not just any bike

Andy’s got an old Sportster.  “So what”, you might say.  Well, Andy’s Sportster is what I like to think of as a personalised bike.

Personalised?

Many today use the words customise and personalise interchangeably.  Even the dictionary says that they mean roughly the same thing.  

But to my mind, they are poles apart.  The two words describe much the same type of activities, but it's the thinking process that’s different.  There’s nothing wrong with either, and there’s a lot of grey area between the two.

These days, when auto companies (two and four wheels) are looking for a way to dredge every last sale out of a very competitive marketplace, it’s a simple matter to change a few parts, put on some chrome and paint, and call it a custom.

Based on the way the words are used these days, I’d like to throw my definitions up for consideration:

customise – add or change elements on a bike to make it very different from what might be ordinarily available on a showroom floor.

personalise – add or change elements on a bike to reflect your personality or special requirements

I believe that, more often than not, a customised bike reflects someone else’s, rather than the owner’s, idea of a bike.  Not always, but often.  

A classic example is the Harley-Davidson CVO (Custom Vehicle Operations) which is offered as a part of the range.  Limited edition, lots of chrome, bigger engine, go-fast bits, fancy paint – terrific looking bikes.  But, at the end of the day, it’s somebody else’s idea of a great bike. 

Back to Andy’s bike.  He did everything by hand.  Some for appearance.  Some for practicality.  Some because he didn’t have the money to do anything else.  End result is a bike that is uniquely his. 

Sometimes, personalisation only works for the person who carried it out.  My ’94 Fat Boy was personalised.  I did it piece by piece over a number of years, mainly through lack of money.  I’d done a lot of small things as money became available – mostly cosmetic except for a set of Vance & Hines Dual Radius pipes.  The bike was easily recognisable and extremely comfortable, for me anyway.

It was an emotional moment when I finally traded it for my new Road King.  And that is my point.  It’s easy to make a financial investment; that only takes money.  Somewhere along the line, personalising your bike becomes an emotional investment.

And that’s the difference!

Why buy a stereo if you don’t listen to music?

I know people, more than a few, who have a Harley and don’t ride it much.  I’ve never been able to understand that.

I bought my second Harley, a ’94 Fat Boy, in 2003, with less than 4,000 kilometres (2500 miles) on the clock.  When I traded it, six and a half years later, for a Road King, it had 160,000 kilometres (100, 000 miles) on the clock and had seen a whole lot of Australia.  I’m nothing special, I just love to ride.

I know that from time to time, life gets in the way of doing things we enjoy.  Most of us have to work.  Many have family issues, good and bad, that arise and must be dealt with.  Most of us will have health issues – our own or others – that override just about everything else.

These things happen and can pull us away from what we enjoy.  I’m not talking about them.  What I’m talking about are those who outlay a lot of money for a H-D and then don’t use it.  In Australia, that can be over $15K (USD12,500) for a Sportster, or $32K (USD27K) for a Softail.

I’ve heard some people say that if you ride it too much you lose resale value.  Strikes me that you could save a whole lot more by not buying one in the first place.

I’ve heard others say that they just don’t get time, what with golf, or sailing, or whatever.

Now, it’s not up to me to judge anyone’s right to do whatever they want with their time, or to use their Harley-Davidson in any way they see fit.

I just don’t understand some people.  That’s all.

A continental shift

When I was younger, I used to ride bikes made in an Asian factory. 

I started riding when I was 17, with a little red Honda CB200.  I thought I was so cool to be riding a motorcycle.  A photo may still exist somewhere of me standing beside it with my (flared) jeans tucked into my surplus-store fleece-lined flying boots.

After a series of bikes from that same country over 10 or more years, I threw a Yamaha 750 down the road under a car coming in the opposite direction.  That did it for me for quite a while. 

Fast-forward another 10 or 12 years.  New family.  Different house (coincidentally, not three kilometres from where I dropped the 750).  Beautiful coast road.  Every weekend we’d see lots of bikes out enjoying that road.  The family got sick of my stock phrase, “Nice day for a ride.”

Father’s Day, September 2001 rolls around and my wife says that she got me a present but left it at Joe’s house.  So we jump into the car and head over to the next suburb.  When we get there, she says, “I think it’s in the garage.  Why don’t you take a look?”

As I entered the garage, she turns on the light, and there in front of me was a 1995 Sportster with forward controls.  For me.

Speaking of coincidences, I'd always been keen on Teal as a great colour for Harleys.  I'd seen it on a few Harleys over the years and loved it, but never mentioned that to anyone.  The Sportster (a surprise present - remember?) was Teal!!

Several years on, she now has her own stock phrase, “I bought you a small Harley because I wasn’t sure you’d like it.  Now look what I’ve created!”

Michael

PS:  My wife originally sourced the Sportster through a friend’s husband, who’d noticed the bike for sale on a noticeboard where he worked.  She asked him to check out the bike and make sure it was the right quality (which it was).  Then she negotiated with the fellow selling the bike over the phone, and never actually met him.

She arranged for the bike to be delivered to Joe’s house, at which point the money would be handed over.  She left the money, thousands of dollars, with Joe to hand over on delivery.

Now Joe, an artistic type, was worried about having all that money, so he hid it – in a little pink clutch purse!  So, the bike is delivered by this stereotypical Harley rider – big, bearded, tattoos.  Joe then says, “Here’s your money”, and hands over this little pink clutch bag dangling from his hand by a dainty little chain.

We heard afterward that Mr Harley Man thought it was all a set-up and was looking for the candid camera.  Wish I’d seen that!

Musings of a H-D Addict

I know people who ride Harley-Davidson motorcycles who have a badge that says, "If I have to explain, you wouldn't understand."

That phrase was probably created by some advertising guy in New York or Milwaukee who dresses in black with a little ponytail.  Harley-Davidson spends millions of dollars a year paying that advertising guy to come up with expressions like that.  Some are great, but some are so overblown that even devotees cringe. In truth, the American appreciation of subtlety and understatement means that most of them lean towards "cringe"!  In this particular case, though, that advertising guy seems to have summed up Harley-Davidson pretty well.

What I get out of the phrase is that Harley-Davidson fills a need, a need that sometimes we don't even know we have until then.  And how do I describe a solution for a need that doesn't exist for you?

What I hope to do with this blog, in a round-about sort of way, is talk about that need.  I might write about what Harley-Davidson means to me.  Or maybe why it has to be Harley rather than some other brand of motorcycle.  Or even my version of the Harley-Davidson experience, because I suspect that the Harley experience is different, often in small ways, for each of us.

I won't try to explain, but maybe by touching random elements, I might shine a bit of light on the road.  Along the way, you might meet some great characters (or character types), hear about some great motorcycle rides and places, and endure thoughts that occur to me while riding, about riding, or watching others ride.

It might be that nobody out there reads this stuff.  If so, that's life.  But if you do happen to tune in, let me know your thoughts.