In midst of hoards of bikers honeymooning with their motorcycles, I decided to call it quits. As it is with the ending of any relationship, this one had been rocky for quite some time. Of course in the beginning I was in love and it was blissful, from the moment I saw my first Harley.
It was early June of 1978, in central Illinois, when the air was still cool but held the promise of heat that would be liquefying asphalt come August. I dropped my mom’s hand in the Kroger’s parking lot, blinded by sunlight glinting off the thundering pipes, and watched the burly bearded driver and his much younger looking blonde passenger cruise around the corner until my …
All That Glitters Is Not Chrome.
Published on May 4, 2015.
Lots of women like bling, but mine weighed a fully loaded 933 pounds. and went up to 150 mph.
Even though I was born in a small town in the Midwest and raised to love classical music, pumpkin pie and the practicality of science, I’ve always had a thing for motorcycles, and Harley’s in particular.
So when I bought my first hog, 15 years ago, I was over the moon. I loved everything about it, the deep rumble of the pipes, the sense of freedom it gave me and the wise, grizzled crew of Vietnam vets and a couple of independent women I rode with on weekends. Community glitters, …