Sixth Anniversary

When I made Master Chief I thought "Why work so damn hard if I don't have any fun?" and decided to get another bike. I learned to ride on a Honda 90 as a desert rat in Nevada in the 1970s but my favorite bike (besides the Suzuki T-500 Titan) was a 1972 Triumph Tiger. All that iron weight between your heels, ground a lot of pegs when I wasn't even riding hard around Lake Tahoe.

In 2002 I saw Triumph was back in business after being sold out of Meridian, and I faxed a request to all the Triumph dealers on the East Coast for bids. Not a single one came back. I thought "Well, if I can't even get them to respond to a purchase bid, what chance do I have of ever finding parts for it?" On a lark I stopped by my local Harley dealer, not expecting much.

I saw the 2003 100th Anniversary models on the floor and thought that would make a good investment. Also, the tank badges just looked right. My local didn't have any Sports on the showroom and was MSRP +15% for factory orders so I faxed a request to all the HARLEY dealers around. Chattahoochie Harley outside Fort Benning came back right at MSRP. (And I *like* saying "Chattahoochie")

Took me only a bit of thought to come around to a Harley. When I was young the perfect symmetry of the Triumph appealed to my sense of logic and order. Hogs always offended me ... all that stuff hanging off one side - pipes, air cleaner - and the big ol' banjo cover sticking out on the other. By the age of 47 in 2003 I had learned that the world rarely was logical or orderly and I also learned that some times there is great value in stuff that hangs out or sticks out. So I ordered a 1200S in vivid black. $9995

Funny, writing this I just remembered the long Greyhound bus ride to the dealer when they called and said it was in. Been ten years since I rode any, missed it every Spring, too. By the time I got the t-shirt and all the paperwork signed and the picture out front with the pretty blonde salesgal it was getting on 3PM. The sun was getting low, and I had over 300 miles to go to get back to Savannah. She asked me about getting a room but I wouldn't hear none of it. Hmmmm ... should have listened to her I guess.

I try to shorten this a bit: the ride nearly killed me. Many times. Keeping the bike to break-in speeds I about got flattened by every 18-wheeler on the interstate so I get off on the backroads and you know there ain't a motel in sight. I just keep on keepin' on and it gets later and later. I roll in just as the sun is rising, knees knocking against the tank and slapping my hands on my helmet to get the feeling back into them.

Sitting at last in my driveway I realize what day it is. April 1st, 2003. April Fool.

But today I love this bike every bit as I ever did. It wants to do a wheelstand at every shift, pulls like a tractor. Got black satin ceramic pipes off a 2002 Sport, black SE slash cuts, black ham can with black "1200" plate, a Wally Kerstetter rebuilt carb with 200/46 jets, mirrors slung under, smoked signals and black levers. Wish like hell I had bought those black covers on eBay when 2003 was late model, glad as hell I bought the Gold Key package on eBay when they went discontinued.

People in parking lots always ask "what kind of Harley is that?" and farmgirls out in the countryside all turn around at the sound of me riding by. Hell yeah, I got the last Sport, the last hard mount, the last 100 year anniversary. And it's got stuff all hanging out all over. What a ride.