Still talking of Harleys, I read this sound assessment of HD bikes and an amusing caricature of the typical HD rider: (Courtesy of Pistonheads)
Based on the sound principle of don't knock it 'til you've tried it, I tried it. A V-Rod thing, but I can't say that I took to it. Brembo brakes, engine by Porsche, still weighed a ton. Never found it so easy to ground the pegs. Other Harleys don't handle either, but then they don't pretend to. But the V-Rod is claiming some sort of sports bike DNA, which frankly isn't there, and as for any Harley with a "Sportster" moniker, that's just taking the piss. If you want a big, soft cruiser/tourer thing, Harley do it as well as anyone. Their marketing is second to none, especially in the merchandising department. We all fall in to stereotypes to a degree, GS and Adventure bikes with go anywhere textiles, Superbikes with race replica leathers and helmets, street bikes with jeans, Gixxers with Rizla jackets and track suits, but Harley have got it pegged better that anyone else. Kudos to them.
However, if we're going to play dress up, we have to kind of match the image (don't we?). It's a long time ago now, in the 80's, but I was waiting outside a local bike dealer in Edinburgh, chatting to some other bikers, when this low, black and chrome Harley comes thundering up the hill. Black leathers - check. Patches, chains, studs - check. Matt black open face helmet -check. Mirrored aviator shades - check. Bandana - check. Two day stubble and bandito moustache - check. Mouth set with just the right amount of sneer - check. Blonde on the back with legs up to her armpits - check. Blonde with skin tight black leathers with 6" heels and knee boots - check, check, check, check, ooooohhhh!
Clint swings his Hog around (I'm sure that was his name), gives it a handful of revs and backs it into the kerb. Blondie steps off, she's 6 feet tall if she's an inch, simply stunning. Before we can scrape our tongues off the floor, her helmet comes off, and she does the shampoo model swish with her hair, and smiles at us. I swear we all felt an instant tightening in our jeans, or perhaps it was just me.
"Don't look at her, Clint will beat us all to a pulp" we were thinking, as we averted our gaze back to the Harley.
Then Clint switches off after a final blip of the throttle, and the angry Hog goes to sleep, engine ticking away as it cools. Clint then swings his leg over the saddle, sneers at us one more time and stands up to his full height of .....well I'd like to say 5 foot 3 inches, but perhaps I'm being generous.
I may have been the first to laugh, and not in my head either, but out loud, soon to be joined by the others. I know that we shouldn't have embarrassed the poor laddie, especially in front of his, ahem, lady friend, but it was too good to be true.
Of course, nowadays we wouldn't laugh (perhaps), we'd simply get our phones out and film the sorry sight and post it on YouTube.
Like I said, dress the part by all means, but live up to it at the very least.