Saturday, April 9, 2016

Harley Thoughts on a rainy Saturday Morning in SoCal

When I went through my mid-life "biker" stage, I met some interesting people and had some crazy experiences.

I met a knocked out, gorgeous woman with two tattoos. On her left shoulder was a large, perfectly drawn rose, the stem wound down around her arm, leaves, thorns and buds. The root ended in the palm of her hand. On her back was a huge Harley Davidson Eagle, once again, perfect. I asked her about her tats. The answer, "My second husband was a tattoo artist." I told her he was a pretty good one. "Yes, he was" she said. "But that was all he was good at, the son of a bitch."

Speaking of tattoos, I almost got one. Why? I was at a Biker Rally, it was almost 4 in the morning, I was drunk. It's a good thing there was a long wait or I'd have barbed wire around my bicep.

There is a jeweler in Boston, he's a top flight craftsman, he wears bow ties, starched pinstriped shirts and steel framed glasses. He has a small pony tail tied with a grosgrain ribbon.. I ran into him at a biker event, he has full body Japanese Irezumi tattoos. He had them done while he was stationed at Yokosuka. After he got out of the Navy he went back to Japan to study jewelry making and to finish up his tats.

At the same rally, it cooled off around midnight and I went to get my jacket off my bike. I was walking along the long rows of parked Harleys and I came across a woman handcuffed to a Knucklehead. I asked if she was okay? She told me to "go fck myself."

After I had my scoot for two months, I looked at my bank statements and credit card bills and realized I'd spent over $1,500 on accessories.

I was invited to a party one night by a biker named "Jabba the Wrench". The party house was decorated with Nazi flags, Jabba was an ex-con and a short order cook. He would drink until he threw up, then start drinking again. The only other guy I've ever known who did that was my college roommate.

I know a guy in Boston, he's a haircutter. He's about the size of Prince and at work he dresses like he's on stage. He had a mechanic in Somerville do some engine work on his chopper. The mechanic was a huge biker type, long flowing beard, tats, etc. The mechanic delivered the bike to my friend's shop on Newbury Street. The cutter gave the mechanic a ride back to his shop. On the way they stopped at a light in Cambridge. Two biker guys in a pickup pulled up next to him. One of them rolled down the window and said, "Nice scoot man, but you've got the ugliest old lady I've ever seen."


  1. My mid-life biker phase is ending, thank goodness. Although I have owned bikes off and on since my college days, I only went down once, in 2010. Completely shattered my left knee, from which I have yet to fully recover. Last week I started working on bike (Honda Shadow Aero) to put up for sale. Needs a new battery.

    Right knee already ruined from an old athletic injury. I walk like a duck.

  2. I was only on a motorcycle once, sitting behind my wife's son who was speeding on a gravel road. That was enough for me, especially since I knew he'd been in at least two accidents, one of which nearly killed him.

  3. Our only means of transport for a couple of years back in our 20's was motorcycle. Grocery shopping was a bitch. So were winter trips between Indianapolis and Muncie.