(no subject)
So I now know why people fall in love with motorcycles.
Honestly, I was always the type of girl who had aspirations to buy a Vespa scooter and name it Suzy. I still am. But my dad has taken me out twice on his old bike (a lovely '05-rebuilt, '77 Harley Davidson shovel-head, for those who know or care) and I can see it. There's a feeling to going 65 MPH on one of those things, and a community to it. And lord knows the respect and appreciative looks (and jealous ones) you get on one of those low riders.
It's not to say that I'm going to buy a Harley and take the leather chaps my father made me wear for safety home with me. Just that I can better appreciate it.
The organ donors who ride crotch-rockets (see wiki) are yet to gain my respect, however.
Also, he gave it some name like "Sunland Dancer" or something, and I love that his big, badass Harley sounds like a My Little Pony.
Honestly, I was always the type of girl who had aspirations to buy a Vespa scooter and name it Suzy. I still am. But my dad has taken me out twice on his old bike (a lovely '05-rebuilt, '77 Harley Davidson shovel-head, for those who know or care) and I can see it. There's a feeling to going 65 MPH on one of those things, and a community to it. And lord knows the respect and appreciative looks (and jealous ones) you get on one of those low riders.
It's not to say that I'm going to buy a Harley and take the leather chaps my father made me wear for safety home with me. Just that I can better appreciate it.
The organ donors who ride crotch-rockets (see wiki) are yet to gain my respect, however.
Also, he gave it some name like "Sunland Dancer" or something, and I love that his big, badass Harley sounds like a My Little Pony.