Thursday, April 10, 2008
Which means two things.
Time for the sun-worshippers to hit the beaches
and time for dustin off the Hog.
That's right, every middle-aged, balding, overweight, yuppie who owns a Harley will soon be cruisin the streets of Mytown, U.S.A. in all their wanna-be glory.
The transformation begins at the local Harley dealership. Where polyester suit and tie are traded for the trademark Harley 'mandana' and a pair of leather chaps.
(Don't want to get frostbite on your legs ridin around in Florida)
They then, I assume, check your credit, check you for the grey/black goatee, and check that you are truly having a mid-life crisis.
You will then straddle 1600cc's of American made roarin' steel, with a saleswoman telling you just how wild and free you look on there and how young and dangerous you must be to be considering the 'Harley' lifestyle. And let's face it, since you've never ridden a bike before, you are gonna need the heaviest bike with tons of horsepower.
Consider this, pinhead.
You are old.
You are lame.
We are laughing at you.
You'd be better off driving around in a convertible, with the top down and the windows up.
And why not buy one of those cool helmets with the horns or the big spike on top?
That would make you the coolest guy on your block.
Don't get me wrong, the bike is bad-ass. Please, park it where I can check it out.
But then hide, so I'm not distracted by the walking stack of dork.
One question though, lame-o,
What is the penalty for riding a Harley without wearing a Harley t-shirt?
It must be pretty stiff, because no one rides without sportin the logo.
Wonder if it's safe to drive my truck without a Ford shirt.
Writed by damon at 12:19 PM