Saturday, January 26, 2008

It's true, owning a Harley-Davidson...

…has a certain cachet to it, that indescribable je ne sais quoi and comes with certain pre-conceived notions that generally, while often unfavorable in nature, accrue to one’s benefit as people tend to lay off you…except real bikers, it is my constant dread, will see right through good ole transparent me and the jig will be up! All too soon it will be known: Terry Ward is Walter Mitty is Terry Ward. I often recall that Dr. Gonzo was real palsy-walsy with The HA until one day he got his ass kicked. It’s a fine line one walks wherever one steps.

I’ve had to kick my own ass many times over over the years for selling off my beautiful 1969 Harley-Davidson Sportster – HD69XLCH1442 – a number I remember as well as I do my service number.

Unsure of its provenance if not its pedigree, I heaved a sigh of relief when it passed through the Motor Vehicle Department without a hitch, it was mine! Wasn’t a hot item, not wanted anywhere by anybody but me.

After 900 kicks I got the starting pattern right and ever after could start it with no more than a dozen or so…Fat Boy was so strong in the leg he could stand beside it and kick one time and it’d roar to life…at home I would bring out a folding chair and a book, kick for awhile, rest & read for awhile, kick for awhile and…well, you see. They are hard to kick are Sportsters and it’s the only thing I don’t miss about it. The next one I get won’t be for sale.

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