Route 66

Yes! It is unavoidable and necessary. Inescapable. Like Pavlov’s conditioning and involuntary reflex action. You just must.

You own a Harley – you do the Route 66.

I always thought that’s what I wanna do, one of these days. Me and my Harley – like the unknown legend in Neil Young‘s song. Long blond hair floating in the wind. I could picture myself quite clearly, I could almost smell tarmac and  feel the heat coming off the cylinder. I could see myself ordering a burger sitting on engine red faux-leather in some roadside diner.

Like Thelma and Louise I pictured my self  looking dead cool and sexy in tight leathers. Dangerous and not to be messed with. On the road. Alive. Nothing more. An outlaw going through Texas (was that on the way?) or at least heading for the West. Have my own movie. Live my own story.

Until last week.

I watched a documentary feature on the telly. Route 66. The camera crew followed a posse of Norwegian bikers on Harleys. They had a tour guide (!) with them. Everything was prearranged. Motels, diners, picture spots. The guide made them pose underneath road signs, made couples kiss over the borderline of two different time zones. They stopped for a coke (!) in a cozy (!) biker bar and gave them time to haunt the souvenir shops. Fancy a Route 66 dishtowel? They said they had always wanted to be different.

What an bunch of numpties!

Route 66???

NEVER, EVER! Not like this.

So, American bikers out there: is there a cool route to take somewhere in this vast and beautiful country? A road where you can ride into the sunset and not from picture spot to picture spot??

LET ME KNOW WHERE!!

 

intense longing

I miss her. Think about her every day.

How could this mass of nuts and bolts, rubber and steel become a true part of me so quickly­? Flesh of my flesh.

Maybe that is the secret behind the myth. A Harley-Davidson has the power to stop being just an engine. It can become you. Part of you. Flesh of your flesh. You in your purest and most authentic form. The essence of you.

I miss her. I had to leave; it will be another month before I can go back. Will things be the same? The way I feel about her?

I ride another bike just now. In another country.  My old Suzuki Savage. Of course there is the joy of the ride, the surge of power, the taste of freedom. But I am not invincible now but an ordinary biker again.

Suzuki Savage

LS 650

I am a bunch of deputy sheriffs, not  John Wayne.

A realization dawns on me – there is no way back. You just can’t downsize anymore. Once you are part of the myth there is no other road you can take.

Owning a Harley-Davidson means there is only one way left to ride into the sunset.