Soon, the sun will be shining, the weather will warm up here in southeastern Pennsylvania, and….it will be time to mow the grass.
Or ride the motorcycle. I bought a Harley last year, at the height of the gas prices. It gets about 52 or 53 miles to the gallon of gas, which makes riding it pretty cheap. I actually get my riding in by commuting to work, and fortunately, I have a nice 18 mile plus ride, through some nice twisty back roads.
This is my second motorcycle, and it came with a promise: I owned a ‘85 Yamaha Virago 750 way back in the day, bought it new and rode it thousands of miles. I bought it on the East Coast, moved out west and rode the canyons in the Front Range of the Rockies, and up and down the high plains. That bike was a V-Twin engine, smooth and powerful, black and beautiful. But it wasn’t a Harley. I promised myself if I ever bought another motorcycle, it had to be American iron, Harley-Davidson.
I always wanted a Harley-Davidson. Face it: they look cool. They sound cool. They ride great. And when someone asks you what you ride, you don’t have to give a long string of letters and numbers. You just say, “I ride a Harley”. ‘Nuff said.
Q: Do you ride a motorcycle? Do you ride a Harley, or some other imitation jap-made rice burner? Just kidding – I had a Yamaha, remember?