RadioHowie
I Miss Beemerdons!
Just back on my '04 FJR after a 2-month post-surgical hiatus and can only say "man I sure missed it!"
However, that said, has this happened to you -- you're parked somewhere and some *** clown comes up to you and comments on your bike's non-HarleyDavidson-ness.
It happened to me minutes ago.
Just leaving McDonald's with a belly full of grease when a ragged out early '80s Camaro pulls up next to me in the parking lot. Folks in the Southeast U.S. would recognize this car....what paint is left is no longer the fire-engine red it was when new...it's now a faded day-glo orange. The interior, what's left, is shot. At least one window is a garbage bag. The required Thrush muffler cigar-smoking Woodpecker decal in the back window. Got the picture? If it ain't up on blocks, it's pulling in to a McDonald's parking lot. You know -- the official car of the state of Alabama.
Well, out of this fine piece of automotive Americana, Luther and his half-sister wife ooze out and Luther checks out the FJR, shaking his head. "Why don't you git yerself a REEL motorsickle?" Oh, I've been waiting for this for MONTHS!!!
"Yeah?" I ask, "what's a real motorcycle?"
"A Harley" he mumbles.
"Y'know," I reply "in all the years I've been riding motorcycles not once, EVER, has someone on a Harley come up to me and asked my why I wasn't riding a 'Real'
motorcycle. It's ALWAYS some ******* in a worn out, piece of **** Camaro who asks me."
Luther and his breeding heifer both start sputtering like one-lungers on bad gas
and he puffs up his chest and starts to get in my face. "Back off, sparky" I tell him..."you're in a no-win situation."
"Yeah? Howzat?"
I tell him "all you'll get to tell your friends is you kicked the *** of an old man who just got out of the hospital. Or worse, you'll have to tell your friends an old man who just got out of the hospital kicked your ***."
The look on his face was priceless. He walked away. I was glad. He would've kicked my ***.
However, that said, has this happened to you -- you're parked somewhere and some *** clown comes up to you and comments on your bike's non-HarleyDavidson-ness.
It happened to me minutes ago.
Just leaving McDonald's with a belly full of grease when a ragged out early '80s Camaro pulls up next to me in the parking lot. Folks in the Southeast U.S. would recognize this car....what paint is left is no longer the fire-engine red it was when new...it's now a faded day-glo orange. The interior, what's left, is shot. At least one window is a garbage bag. The required Thrush muffler cigar-smoking Woodpecker decal in the back window. Got the picture? If it ain't up on blocks, it's pulling in to a McDonald's parking lot. You know -- the official car of the state of Alabama.
Well, out of this fine piece of automotive Americana, Luther and his half-sister wife ooze out and Luther checks out the FJR, shaking his head. "Why don't you git yerself a REEL motorsickle?" Oh, I've been waiting for this for MONTHS!!!
"Yeah?" I ask, "what's a real motorcycle?"
"A Harley" he mumbles.
"Y'know," I reply "in all the years I've been riding motorcycles not once, EVER, has someone on a Harley come up to me and asked my why I wasn't riding a 'Real'
motorcycle. It's ALWAYS some ******* in a worn out, piece of **** Camaro who asks me."
Luther and his breeding heifer both start sputtering like one-lungers on bad gas
and he puffs up his chest and starts to get in my face. "Back off, sparky" I tell him..."you're in a no-win situation."
"Yeah? Howzat?"
I tell him "all you'll get to tell your friends is you kicked the *** of an old man who just got out of the hospital. Or worse, you'll have to tell your friends an old man who just got out of the hospital kicked your ***."
The look on his face was priceless. He walked away. I was glad. He would've kicked my ***.
