Taking the chopper to the shop for a tear down and repaint
Riding season. Maybe I don’t understand the concept really. Everybody is a biker when it’s 75 and sunny. I can’t get a parking spot or a drink at the bar cuz all these pirates are taking up space. As soon as the sun comes out and the temps hit 60 degrees, I have to wait for these guys to buy all their chrome cream and seat polish and butt wax or whatever the fuck they need at the dealership when I’m actually trying to get parts.
And you know why I need parts, fuckface? Because I’ve been riding my fucking motorcycle all fucking winter when you had your machine in “storage”. WTF is that?!
MEL-LOW…MELLLL-LOOOOWWWWW…Ok, ok…let me take a step back. A dressed out Harley is 25 large. Or, perhaps more appropriately, it’s several hundred dollars per month in payments. So if you’re the extremely rare type of dude who can drop that sort of cash, and you’re perfectly content to be honest with yourself and the rest of the world and declare that you like your bike, you pull it out of the garage on a beautiful summer Saturday, and you ride it around for the pure enjoyment, fine. That’s cool.
Now, to the rest of you ass pounders…listen up: If you have any sort of shirt, derby cover, bumper sticker, or any other accoutrement that says “live to ride,” or any other variation of your proclamation of dedication to your bike or lifestyle…. fuck off. You’re a boner. And here’s why…
February walkabout on the Ironhead. Preferred parking.
I drive a Ford truck. (Yeah, yeah, mine’s bigger than yours…Ford, Chevy, Dodge, whatever debate… don’t care.) I also have a Glock pistol. I can assure you that I do not own a single piece of clothing that professes my dedication to either Ford or Glock. Why? Because I’m a casual consumer of both of those products. I selected both of them because they fit my requirements and performed to my level of expectation. I don’t live the Glock life. I don’t bleed blue oval blue. I don’t go to truck rallies, and I don’t hang out with the local Glock owners group.
I drive my truck because it can haul stuff, and can get me to work in the shit-ass Michigan winters. I carry a Glock because it’s a reliable tool to ensure I get home in one piece and don’t get jacked by some goat humper.
So, what if, as a casual Glock owner, I showed up to a gun show, decked out in my 5.11 gear, tactical thigh rig, four spare magazines, flashlight, pepper spray, and handcuffs? That’s right! I’d be an assclown!! You see where this is going, right?
You wanna be a casual motorcycle rider, and just do your thing? Fine. I’m all for it. But don’t come up to me after you’ve pulled your bike out of storage in May, dusted off your bullshit mail-in patch vest, and donned your best HD riding boots and new factory flannel and tell me how you’re ready for “riding season.” Eat a dick. You’re no more of a “biker” than I am a “trucker”.
Bikers ride their bikes. They don’t look for excuses to jump in the cage. They look for a reason to get in the wind. Even if it’s a dumb reason. And yes, even if it’s cold.
So, while some are waiting for “riding season”, I’m just gonna bundle up, get on my bike, and twist the wick.