Wild in the streets

The desire to connect with the natural world is one of the ten key motivators in our lives, according to leading social commentator, Hugh Mackay.

That certainly resonates with me, and in another blog, Senses working overtime, I remarked how much more involved with nature you are when riding your bike.  I believe that when you’re out riding your Harley, you’re more attuned to the world at large.  You’re a part of the world, not shielded from it as you are in a car.  The clearest demonstration of this is the amount of wildlife you’re likely to experience whilst out on the road.

Aside from roadkill, there's always plenty to see from the seat of your bike and I’ve been really lucky over the years to have seen a great many different members of the animal kingdom.

In Far North Queensland, I’d ridden through days of torrential rain.  When the sun magically decided to reappear, I took the opportunity to stop.  As I did so, I put my foot down right beside a giant red-bellied black snake who was taking the same opportunity.  When I stopped, I didn't see him until I had almost put my foot down right on top of him.  He didn't even move.  Maybe we were sharing a moment of relief that it was warming up and that our all-natural skins - leather and snakeskin - could start to dry.

A major highlight of a ride to Uluru was a wedge-tailed eagle defiantly staring down our group of Harleys as we approached.  It took off only a moment before the first bike arrived and resumed its position over its lunch of not-fast-enough wallaby the moment the last bike had passed.

South of Sydney, I found an echidna nosing its way through the road construction rubble near construction for a new four-lane highway section. As it did so, little did it realise that the construction which led to this treasure trove would ultimately result in its likely death under the wheels of a tonne or more of fast-moving steel.

I’ve had kangaroos materialising from nowhere at dusk, and scattering in all directions; an emu running straight at the bike, only to veer off at the last moment; a mother emu leading a family of chicks to safety further away from the road.

On a road two days south of Darwin, roadside trees suddenly came alive in a sea of white and yellow as hundreds of sulphur-crested cockatoos took off as one at the approach of the noisy v-twin intruders.

Of course, not all the wildlife we encounter has fur, feathers or snakeskin.  On one memorable ride, we rode through a locust plague and had to stop every 30 minutes to clean our screens, which were solid with wings, legs and goo.  Pity poor Ted, riding a Sportster with no screen.  His face led the charge through a squishy green fog of flying insect life.

As well as mind-blowing moments like these, there’s also the usual cavalcade of more domesticated animals – horses, cows, alpacas, llamas, deer, camels, and so on.

I can’t wait to get out on the road again soon.

It IS what you wear, after all!!

Once I was speaking to a very rich, powerful man at a black tie dinner.  He said, “At an event like this, we’re all dressed alike - black suit and bow tie.  Everyone is equal.” His words have remained with me all my life.

Since we climbed down from the trees, man has sought identity within a social group.  Clan, tribe, village, state – all relied for their continued existence on a shared identify, a commitment to common goals.  The need to belong is, and has been since the dawn of civilization, a survival trait.

In modern times, there’s not quite the need to band together to protect our families from marauding wolves but we’ve retained the need to gather together with people who share our beliefs and attitudes.  It’s still there.  Primal.

One of the ways we identify ourselves as belonging to a social group is in how we dress.  Many groups have a common style of dress – military & police are obvious examples.  Everyone dresses the same, with minor variations to denote rank, specialist function or a sub-group.

In LA, wearing an item of a particular colour, red or blue, identifies you as a member of one or another of the dominant street gangs.  Throughout South-East Asia, elections are a colourful affair with each major party represented by a different colour.  During a campaign, convoys of supporters decked out in yellow, green, red drive cars and trucks festooned with huge flags, forming ad hoc rallies wherever they happen to stop.

The colour provides an immediate common link with fellow wearers, allowing all to bond at an almost subconscious level.

So, too, with Harley-Davidson.  We all dress pretty much the same, and while you can put extra chrome, kits and accessories on your bike, they are basically all the same.  What you do, and how much money you have is not important when you’re on the road.

We all know the uniform – denim with leather boots, black sunglasses, t-shirt, leather jacket and for many, a vest adorned with pins and patches.  Before I joined the Harley lifestyle, I never owned a black t-shirt.  Now, I scarcely have anything but!

I was at a party the other day for my oldest friend’s wife.  There were seven or eight of us from the club, and for some reason, no-one had ridden.  Someone commented, “I don’t recognise you guys.  You’re all out of uniform.”

Harley-D actively trades on this, and the brand is certainly at the upper end of the scale for lifestyle/obsession.  Harley-Davidson is a leader in offering branded material for the faithful to buy.  From expensive leather jackets to skull-emblazoned underwear, it’s all there.

Worn leather and steel.  Black tie with dinner suit.  They’re not so far apart.  Just different sides of the same coin.  

See you on the road.  

Dressed properly, of course.

Speeding away

I was recently in Indonesia watching a mass of humanity carrying out their daily business on motorbikes of all shapes and sizes.  I got to thinking about speeding laws and how they impact on us as motorcycle riders.

There are some who say that speeding probably isn't an issue for Harley riders as we ride slow, cruising bikes anyway.  Well, I have a recent model tourer that is capable of breaking speed limits in every gear, and cruising all day at 140 km/h - 30 km over the maximum speed limit anywhere in Australia.  So, I reckon it potentially impacts on almost every Harley rider in Australia.

In Indonesia, the traffic looks chaotic, but they’re not travelling at any great speed.  100 km/h is impossible and even 80 km/h is a challenge!  Their fatality rate is about double that of Australia, but, in general, speed is not a major factor in accidents, with officials instead citing poor road conditions and driver error.

Traffic statistics in Australia quote “speed” as a major cause of over 50% of serious accidents.  No break-up or analysis of what that really means.  Plenty of credible scientific studies suggest that road conditions – surface, confusing speed signs, camber, etc are possibly a greater contributor to fatalities and injuries than speed by itself.

Speed cameras have become one of the weapons of choice in the war on speeding motorists.  I’m sure they started out as a genuine, well-intentioned tool.  But then governments got hooked on the revenue to be squeezed from poor motorists.  This clearly does nothing to remove the perception that speeding fines are a type of unfair tax on motorists – cars and bikes.

Recently, the government in my state audited all its speed cameras to verify whether any change in accident rates had actually occurred as a result of their installation.  The audit identified that around a quarter of all speed cameras served no purpose other than raising revenue.  I wonder how many others were marginal.

Personally, what concerns me most about speeding laws as implemented in Australia is that, being "one size fits all", they are a very blunt instrument to manage/reduce road fatalities.  The arbitrary number of a speed limit does nothing to encourage riding to conditions, and does not reward experience or skill.  I’m sure we all know some people who are fabulous riders – highly skilled, very much in control of themselves and their bike.  Others, however, are unsafe at any speed, and a menace to themselves and others on the road.  And yet the law treats them both the same!

Although most of the discussion about speed revolves around cars, bikes add extra levels of difficulty.  Constantly worrying about speed limits and the possibility of a speeding fine, or even losing your licence, takes your concentration away from the road.  The same government that shut down speed cameras has also admitted that the complexity of constant speed limit changes is also a contributor to road accidents by constantly distracting the driver.

One of Australia’s leading race drivers, Mark Skaife, has argued that part of the solution to death and injury on the road is not more restrictive laws and increased enforcement, but a greater emphasis on driver education.  He advocates driver training in schools and greater expenditure on roads to provide better driving conditions and environment.  He cites the example of Germany, which has high speed roads, with minimum speeds, and yet a much lower traffic fatality rate than Australia.  What they do have is driver education as a key part of school curricula.

Are speeding laws a de facto government tax or are they a genuine measure to protect riders and drivers?  And more to the point, does a nanny state environment which takes away responsibility for driving from individuals, lead ultimately to better or worse drivers?

What do you think?

Partners

My wife doesn't enjoy my bike.  Don't get me wrong, she loves me and is happy that I enjoy it, but she's not really keen to get on the back.

I even went to the trouble of investing in a ladies' riding jacket to spur her interest.  You know the kind - multiple vents and panels, bar-and-shield embroidered on it, and even studded with diamantes.  She loves the jacket but is still no closer to waking up early on Sunday morning with an excited, "Let's go for a ride!".

One friend's wife calls his Harley "his lame hobby", while another, who is a nurse, insists on constantly telling him how dangerous motorbikes are. (Yeah.  Like that will stop him!)

That attitude seems to be common among wives and girlfriends of guys who ride Harleys. .I can only imagine that it's even worse for guys who ride other brands.

But it's not the only attitude out there.

Some put up with it because their man enjoys it.   (I've only once encountered the reverse).

I know wives who enjoy the whole Harley experience so much that they are going through the whole process of learning to ride, holding a restricted licence for up to three years, and riding a small Japanese bike before buying their own Harley.

Still others credit Harley-Davidson with having breathed new life into their marriage by giving them new adventures and a brand new circle of friends they can both enjoy.

Of course, some riders prefer to keep their Harley to themselves, an experience they don't have to share.

There's no right or wrong here, but if you intend to use your Harley for its intended purpose - covering lots of miles - you'll be better off if you have a partner who understands and accepts what we get from riding.

Or expect a rough ride!

A book well worth reading

Bikies.  One-percenters.  Outlaw bike clubs.  Gangs.

Some fear them.  Some admire them.  Some are jealous of them.  Whatever your view of them, almost everyone has an interest in hearing about them.

Many thousands of books have been written about them, but a new book focusses on the development of motorcycle clubs in Australia, with names that are familiar to us from the USA or Europe, liberally sprinkled with our home-grown versions.
 
The Brotherhoods, by Arthur Veno, is a great read that captures the ethos and the lure of the motorcycling lifestyle.  Using the West Coast US history - Hollister, Sonny Barger, Hells Angels - as a launching point, the book tracks the history of motorcycle clubs in Australia, from post-World War 2 to the present day, introducing the reader to a lot of people from the clubs, hangers-on, the police and even the Christian biker fringe.

Veno, an academic who has developed contacts with most of the important Australian clubs over the last quarter-centruy, offers a unique insight into why motorcycle clubs form, and what benefits they bring their members.

Interesting anecdotes appear on nearly every page.  One of my favourites occurred at Broadford in rural Victoria.  Broadford was the location of an annual music festival hosted by the Hells Angels up until the 1990's.  Over the years, most of Australia's top musicians and bands would have played there to audiences of around 20,000 punters.  As the event was held on private property, the police were not able to access it, no matter how much they may have wanted to.  For a number of years, they set up roadblocks in an attempt to intercept everyone who attended.  To avoid the police, the Hells Angels went overland, using a little known back road to access the property.  Another year, a number of members avoided the police by getting to the venue a day or two before the police set up their roadblock, and leaving after it was removed.

In another chapter, Veno recounts the story of a Christian motorcycle club who wanted to "fly their colours" in an area controlled by the Comancheros.  The club leader approached Jock Ross, then-president of the Comancheros to request permission to do so, only to be beaten up by a gang member.  Several months later, his second approach resulted in him receiving a beating from Ross personally.  After a stay in hospital, he again approached Ross for permission to wear their colours.  Ross was so impressed by the man's courage and persistence, that he granted permission.

The book mainly focusses on the outlaw clubs, but other motorcycle enthusiasts get a mention, with harder-core touring clubs, and even Harley Owners Group, being dubbed 10-percenters, in a reference to the 1% badge the outlaws claim with pride.

Given the subject matter, it would be easy for Veno to slip into the "shock, horror" sensationalism practiced by the Murdoch press.  To his great credit, Veno presents the facts in an understated manner, letting the characters speak for themselves.  In fact, one of the parts of the book that I found really attractive was his style of not moralising, instead using quotes to illustrate viewpoints and attitudes.

He doesn't gloss over the criminal element often associated with the outlaw clubs, and doesn't pretend that their members are all squeaky clean, either.  He does, however, attempt to show that many clubs and their members have a strict code of honour that is fairer in many ways than the laws they eschew.

So what's the future for bikies? Veno devotes the last chapter of his book to a look at how outlaw club membership may go the way of the dinosaurs.  In society, things are dramatically changing.  So too for outlaw clubs, with the average age of members gradually increasing, as young people are drawn to other pursuits and interests.  His comments about new "non-bike bikie clubs" such as Notorious show that his sympathies lie with the old order.

Once I started reading this book, I couldn't put it down.  Comprehensive, well-written and loaded with photos, this is a great value book for yourself or as a gift for a partner or a good mate who rides.  I heartily recommend it!

Does cleaning your bike make you less of a man?

It's been raining a lot lately.  The scientists tell us that it's to do with a La Nina weather effect.  That's the opposite of the El Nino, which caused a pretty horrendous drought in Australia over the last seven or eight years.

Rain.  It's great for the garden, but not so great for the Red Flash.  Although a bit of rain shouldn't stop you riding, not if you're serious, it does mean washing the bike a lot more.  A morning spin quickly turns gleaming chrome into a dull collection of mud spatters.

So you need to clean it.

Keeping your bike clean gives you all the normal benefits that you've probably heard about time and time again.  It helps prevent corrosion.  There's no quicker way to rust through chrome than to leave road grime sitting there for any length of time.  Keeping the painted bits of your bike - tank, guards, and so on - polished keeps them looking great and helps shield it against sun-fading.  And, simply because you're looking at it really closely, it helps identify other potential problems.

All very practical reasons to keep your bike looking tip-top, but on top of those, I just enjoy cleaning my bike and like to allocate a few hours at a time to make sure I do the best job I possibly can.

A regular process helps me ensure that I don't miss anything.

First, I’ll hose the bike down completely to soften up the light stuff and remove any loose grit.  Then, I wash the bike from tip to tail with warm water and mild detergent.  The bike immediately starts to look better as you remove the film of dirt and muck that builds up with everyday use.

Next, the detail work begins.

Washing a car is easy.  Lots of flat panels, easy to polish.  A Harley-Davidson, on the other hand, has a multitude of angles and sharp bits.  In this part, I like to go slowly over the bike, cleaning engine parts & bolts, wheel rims, and all the little bits that can detract from the look of the bike if left untouched.

The last run over is to polish.  Despite all the expensive polishes on the market, I find that Mr Sheen, a silicon-based household polish offers the best value for money.  For chrome and bare metal, I use The Original Purple Metal Polish.  It puts a deep glow on chrome and really lifts aluminium without the harshness of some other metal polishes.

Generally, this process takes a bit over two hours.  Some may say that this is a waste of time.  They’re entitled to their opinion. 

Personally, I find cleaning the bike very relaxing.  It gives me time to think, without the phone, or any of the hundred other distractions that can do your head in.  Washing my bike gives me a great excuse to listen to music.  I bring the CD player outside, throw in a couple of my favourite albums, and completely zone out, focussing on nothing but the bike.

Others may have a different approach, but mine works for me.  And it makes sure my bike looks great when I take it on the road. 

Something a little different for you......

Alarm.

Ok, out of bed!

Kettle on, cup out, teabag in. It’ll cool down while I’m dressing.

T-shirt.  Hmmm, maybe a black one today, just to be different.  Jeans.  Belt.  Favourite socks.  Boots – lace-ups.  Takes a little longer than slip-ons but the ritual’s important.  Jacket & vest on and out the front door.

Six steps to the garage.  Press the button and up goes the door.

Ah, there it is!  The Road King.  Sitting there waiting to be unchained.  Glittering in the morning half-light.  Quietly excited.  A run, a ride.  Please let it be a long one today.  Please let me take you to destinations new or old.  Doesn’t matter as long as we go.

Free at last!  The confining chain lies powerless on the floor, defeated once again.

Back it out onto the street.  Ignition.  A perfect start leads to perfect throbbing vibration, and a sound that, even muffled, screams, “Here I am!”

Clutch in. Down to first.  Twist grip.  Hang on.

Left and onto the coast road.   Eighteen bends and a last quick left-right-left and we’re on the bridge.  Strange to build a bridge that curves and follows the coast, but fun to ride.  No cars so far.  Must be too early for most.

Glad I chose the coast road.  It’s early enough for the sea mist to still hang in the air.  That sun is going to burn through this pretty quickly.  Not a morning person, huh?  How do you explain that grin?

Over the bridge.  Start the climb up to the escarpment.  A flick of the wrist and we’re moving fast uphill.  The first tight bend.  Then left, right, left in quick succession.  A bunch more bends, left at the top and twist again.

At last!  A car, gathered up and devoured in no time flat.  My first victim!  Ha! Envy the Red Flash, infidel!

Long downhill.  Up the other side.  Slow for the roundabout and onto the freeway.

Perfect road.  Perfect surface.  Perfect shame that it’s a Highway Patrol hunting ground.  Stay close to the speed limit for a bit.

Can’t do it!  Not likely to find radar on the next stretch.  Twist the grip and hit the sweet spot.  No one behind me.  Go!  160 up!  Yeah!

“Welcome to Sydney” says the large sign over the road.  “Time to slow down a bit”, says I.

Lower speed.  More cars.  Doesn’t bode well.  No cause for worry, so adjust your mental gears.  The sun's out.  You're on your bike.  Enjoy.

The city is waking up around you - more roads, ever more cars.  Pay attention.

Tight left coming up.  Gear down, and left again, straight onto the old iron bridge.  Needs a coat of paint.

Past the airport.  Who wants to fly when I can ride?  Down through Billboard Alley.  Very expensive ads for very expensive products.

Traffic continuing heavier now as I pass the airport hotels.  Harley-Davidson dealer coming up on my left.  Slow down.  Third gear.  Second.  Turn into the dealership's parking area.  Mates waiting, ready to go.  

“Good ride up?”

"Is there any other kind?!"