First Harley Ride
This one goes out to Pococj.
My first ride on a Harley, really begins with my wife. You see, about five years ago I traded in my scoot when an old, deaf, blind, stupid woman tried to modify my bike at 45 mph with me on it – all while she chatted away on the cell phone in heavy traffic. Sort of took the fun out of riding for me, and to make a long story short, I traded the bike in and bought a Corvette. But, I digress, I was telling you about my wife.
As it turns out, my wife is a Harley fan, she enjoys jumping on the back and taking a blast, and she has been talking about it off and on for some time. A couple months back, Cajun (one of the guys I work with) and I were out flying. Being typical men, we were talking about the typical things that typical men talk about it, you know, cars, bikes, booze, and women. So, naturally, I relay my story about why I no longer ride, and I mention that the wife is really wanting to get a Harley. Cajun is a pretty nice guy, maybe too nice, and as it turns out, has not one but TWO Harleys, a Dyna Glide and a Road King. He offers up his ride, tells me that we’re welcome to take a blast with him any time we would like.
Fast forward a month or so, and we’ve made plans to go on a Poker run with his MC. The wife is all about it, and plans are set. So, I jump in the car, leaving the wife at home for now and head to his house. When I pull up, he’s got the bike out, all cleaned up, warmed up, and ready to go. (I think I mentioned he is a really good guy already). Anyway, he gives me the quick once over on the bike, and we’re all set. Before we take off, I ask him to keep it a little slow to start, and to expect me on the left so I didn’t pull up at any lights and drop his bike when I put my foot down on a grease spot. You all know what I’m talking about.
That being said, we take off down his street, hang a left and then a quick right. Two miles down the road, and things are fine. I’m thinking to myself, “Self, (that’s what we call ourselves, right?), this is like riding a bike!” PUN intended.
Well, we hang a right, he shoots off to the front a little bit and I decide to get on it. Now I think I’ve told most of you that I live in Arizona. Like Florida, we have Snowbirds. For those that don’t know, snowbirds are elderly folks that arrive by the thousands on November 1, and depart on April 1. It’s really amazing, you can set your watch by them. My wife refers to them as the “STUPID SNOW PEOPLE”, I’ve heard others call them “SNOW TURDS” (my personal favorite), and other more colorful colloquialisms as well. I digress again.
As I’m getting on it, one of these Snow Birds pulls out in front us. FLASHBACK to five years ago, only no cell phone this time. Well, no time like the present to get familiar with the braking system on this Road King I’m sitting on which is hurtling toward an unsuspecting Snow Bird. I hit the brakes, maybe a little hard, and the back tire is locked up. Silent thanks to the MSF course, and I’m in it for the ride. It’s funny how distance is a relative thing. I never got closer than 10 to 20 feet from her rear bumper, but to me it appeared to be 10 to 20 inches.
The snow bird took off, slowly accelerating toward 25 in a 55 mph zone, and we hung back. Next stop, gas for the HOGS, and a quick stop at the ATM. While pumping gas we have a quick laugh about the fine braking power of the RK I'm riding, and all is well. Heart rate is still pushing 135 or so, but I'm none the worse for the wear. We jump back on the bikes and head just down the street to the ATM. Cajun is in a parking spot, getting ready to climb off when I come rolling in beside him. I'm not really moving that fast, more of a crawl really, I'm trying to be extra careful, this being his Harley, unfamiliar to me, and my first ride in 5 years...2nd if you include the trip the gas station.
I don't know that I
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