I'm having second thoughts about selling my 2003 Harley-Davidson Road King Classic. It's an incredibly cheap second vehicle. Insurance is about $200 a year. License is only $20. And the yearly maintenance ranges from a couple hundred to a thousand dollars. Below, a pic of the old girl.
I'll admit that the damned thing scares the hell out of me. If barreling down the highway at 70 mph on a 700 pound projectile doesn't scare you, what would?
At the age of 66, I can't afford to take a serious fall. That's for sure. Even rolling over at slow speed can lead to serious leg and ankle injuries... and an old man heals slowly.
Every time I mount my iron horse, I say a prayer and perform the sign of the cross.
I put out a couple of ads, on craigslist and on Facebook, and immediately received substantial offers for the bike, sight unseen. Well, people did see the above pic. She is beautiful. One potential buyer quite accurately said "She's a beast!"
Don't really ride that much. In an eight month season, I ride from 1,000 to 1,500 miles. I ride mostly in lonely, isolated regions of the Catskill Mountains on days when everybody else is at work. Retirement gives me that option.
I've thought of towing the Harley along on my potential 420 Road Trip. My 2011 Ford Ranger pickup, however, is probably not up to the task. I should have bought the larger motor so that I could tow the bike. If I do make the trip out to Colorado over the summer, it would probably make far more sense to rent a Harley so that I could ride for a day out in the Rockies. Cost... about $200!
I didn't respond to any of the offers for my bike. That probably reflects my true state of mind.
Myrna was the one who really wanted to buy the Harley. She hated the pussification and faggotization of men. She was pushing me to express my inner machismo and she wanted to find a social milieu free from the Woodstock/leftist feminist bullshit.
She died within of year after we bought the bike.
I attend, maybe, one major biker event per year. Not much for group riding. That's really for the Vietnam vets who like to pretend that they are back on patrol in the jungle. They love the hand signals and organizing riders. Once you've been to one biker rally, you've been to all of them. My yearly day trip to Lake George for Americade is enough.
The Holy Grail of bikers is, of course, the yearly pilgrimage to Sturgis. I doubt that I'll ever go. My days of partying down may be over. Without Myrna, I don't have a partner for the wild life. And, what would I be missing? I've done it all.
If I keep the Harley, I'll use it for quiet, solitary rides in the mountains. Took a long time, but I enjoy being alone now.