Cycle News - Archive Issues - 1990's

Vegas and was ready for my first fue l s top in Barstow at 10:30 a.m. There wasn't a cloud in the sky as far as I cou ld see, so I too k th e ti me to change jacke ts, and with the traffic now much less fran tic, I hooked up my CD player for a littl e musical comp anio nshi p on the long trek on 1-40 across th e MOjave desert to the Colorado River an d ill to Ari zona. First choice was pretty \Jbvious for such a tr ip . I threw Bruce Springsteen's Greatest Hits in to the carrier, and I was rev italized as the first few bars of "Born to Run" played while Igathered speed on the on-ramp. c. You know, Mom, Sp ringsteen might as well have been singing about HarleyOa vidson in that song, becaus e it seems like The Motor Co mpany was born to run, and it has been sinc e 1903. It's been said that "Harley-Davidson began in a shed, we nt to war, became the symbol Of American individualism and ended u p 'king of th e roa d : a ll in on ly 95 years." Messianic overton es, but man, is it ever tru e. The story of how three simple motorcycles, built in that Milw aukee shed by the Davidson broth ers a n d William Harl ey, grew into a quintessential symbol of Am erican a has been told over and over. It is a gospe l th a t has continued to sprea d and has been gatheti ng more discip les for 9 1/2 de cade s. And here I w as now, heading down the ijig hway to th e g a theri ng p o int, th e Mecca for a celebratio n of the legend ary "king of the road." . I was ce r tai n ly a lo ne in d oin g it, thou gh, for now. Hard to believe, bu t I hadn't seen a single other Harl ey-David son since leavin g the L.A. basin. It was kind of a weird feeling, this thou ght tha t crept over me, a voi ce tellin g me that I was th e oll ly oll e headin g h om e . Of course, I kn ew tha t was n' t ca se, a n d 'The Boss" was aboard to keep me company - at least until I reached the Colorado River town of Need les. At least in N eed les I was offer ed a respite from th e sile n ce w he n I made con tact wit h a husba nd / w ife team of fellow n omads who we re heading for Milwa ukee. Buck and Jan et Guest, from China Lake, California, had been to the 85th and 90th annive rsa ries. As Buck, a 41-year-old rocke t-p ropulsion engi nee r w it h th e U.S. N a vy told me , " It w as good to be head ing back hom e to Milwaukee to be w ith the fam ily." I did n't qui te un d erstand w hat he meant, bu t nonethe less, th ey we re nea t fol ks, and We spe n t lunchtim e ta lkin g about his "ug ly-but-co mfortable" '91 Electra Glide Police Special and her pretty wh ite-andfuscia-flarned '93 FXRS. An d soo n it was time to be movin g on down the road , but as I bid them goodbye, I left with a fee li ng that I had ma d e so me n e w friends. May be I'd see them in Milwaukee. (As it turned ou t later, I did.) . And the d esolati on returned, but at lea st th e Road King a nd th e mus ic & h ich b y n o w h ad b een cha nged to Harl ey-Davidson's own Road Songs CD set - were steady comp anio ns, neith er of the m m issing a beat. See mingly in as much ti me as i t takes to tell it, the Mojave desert gave way to the pain ted desert, w hich gave way to the fores ted 1i10untains of No rthern Ari zona . This was Gra nd Canyon country, a nd the cool air and evergreens mad e for so me (Above) The Man and The Machine: Willie G. Davidso n and his Road Glide. (Left) Karen Davidson looked sharp on her 95th Anniversary Heritage SoftaUSpringer. (Below)Bolling to a huge welcome at the Kansas City Sportster facility, Sunday, June 7. I f of the most brea thtaking . sce n er y of t h e rid e. Desolation was replaced by so litude, as The Byr ds' "Ballad . o f Easy Rider" chorus ed . t hrou gh m y h eadph ones. By th e time I left Ari zona behind , I'd made a fuel stop in Seligm an , by passed the city of Flags ta ff and de cided to " take it ea sy " Win s low th rou gh b efore s to p p ing for d inn er in the Na vajocou ntry town of H olbrook. The sense of desolation repa id a visit as the New Mexico prairie draped out in front of the ' King and me like an end less rolling carpet. I d idn 't know if I'd ever see th e en d of it, but with almo st 600 mil es beh ind me already, I had found my rh ythm, and I kn ew there was no turnin g back. Th e newfound sense of accom pli shment had all but kill ed the d esola tio n when the beautiful su nse t ove r my should er fin a lly lost its fight w it h th e co mi n g night. I ro ll ed into Gallu p, New Mexico, for an other stop, and again was curious at the total lack of Harleys along my route. Let me tell you, Mom, had I known th en wha t I know n ow , I mi ght h ave thou ght twi ce abo u t pressing through the night to Albuqu erque . It seems that the IS-w heelers really like to mak e time across the p rairie at night, and wh en 85 m ph is too s low , yo u kind of feel like yo u 're ou t of your leagu e, you know? It seemed like every tim e I wo u ld mov e ove r for one, another would come lumb erin g up beh ind me, jus t w aiti ng to st rai n me th rough its grill if I didn't yield fast enough. That last hour and 40 or so was tense, but then the twinkling ligh ts of New Mexico's largest city beckoned me, and af ter snu ffing the. tin iest notion that I could make it an oth er 144 mil es to Sa n ta Rosa, I p ull ed off a nd looked for a h ote l. The Su pe r-S West was the big winner. The reason ? I finally fou nd a dozen or so Harl eys resting in the par king lot. Morn in g seemed to co me quickl y, and aft er a shower and a quick br eak - fast, I wa s ready for my run through the res t of N ew Mexico and th en int o th e "To rn ado All ey" re gions of th e Texas panhandle, Nort heastern Oklahoma and Kansas. Except for a bri ef con versation with a trio of Orange Coast HOG members who we re roughly heading a lon g the same route as me, I still hadn't seen th e thron g o f Harle ys that I figured migh t be on the road hom e. But tha t w as okay , Mom, because I checked my maps befor e I left and realized that I was fur th er d own the road than I thought I'd be at this point. The proof was on the tripmeter of the Road Kin g , w hic h re gi stered 805 .4 mil es . Hays, Ka nsas - o ne s to p ea rlier than Kan sas City on the orga nized ride route - was o nly 500-od d miles a way a n d , b esides, I kn ew th at route 54, w hich started bearing me east and then north ou t of Tucumcari, New Mexico, was a sparsely tr a v el ed t w o -Ia n er, whi ch mean t I cou ld prob ably keep my speed average up. Th in gs we re lookin g up, but th en, just as qu ickly, a cold fro n t just to the e a s t of A lb u q uer q ue so th orou ghl y chilled m e that I had to sto p after 20 minutes of riding an d refit the rain gea r. I did , a nd ro de fo r abo u t a not he r 20 minutes before the su n came ou t and the tem perature cha nged so quickly th at I found myse lf pu lling off agai n to avo id overheating. Afte r that , it was smoo th sailing, and I conti nued to pull off eve ry 140 miles or so to fuel 41ZF, w hich was p erfor min g fl a wl es sl y o the r than a slight but insigni fican t hesitation in the throttle response at 70 mph 'for a couple of seconds a fter I would back off from a higher spee d . Maybe it was a fuel-injection mapping glitch? Wh o k no ws? It wasn't bothersome. Thanks to th e Rolling Stones, Texas and Oklahoma seemed to flow by rather quickly, the ca ttle ranches, grain sil os and agricultural field s sign aling that I was ind eed entering the heartland of the great plains. I remem ber Dalha rt, Texas, a n d Gu ym on , Okl ahom a , but th at's about it. And then right before my eyes a p pea re d th e amber w av es of g r ai n under sp acious ski es to mark m y passag e into the state of Kan sas. It was here that I head ed due north al ong State Route 183 to H ay s - th e h ome s tre tc h. It wa sn 't a ca ke w a lk, however, as a vio len t case of hay fever left me feelin g all but wiped ou t. That w as compounded by th e Road Kin g's refusal to s hi ft in to second gea r as I rolled through a four-way sto p in Kinsley. I had to reach do wn an d yank it in by hand, and then it seemed to be fine. I would later di scov er that the heel-kick s h if te r had come lo ose a n d wed ge d itself again st the left footboa rd . Yanking the bike int o second gear on ly serv ed to was te th e shift s h af t at t he ki cker' s attachme nt point, leaving the kicker to bounce arou nd on the footboard for the rest of th e jo u rney. Problem solved, since I used my toe to upshift any"..ay . T he la st 120 mil es to H a ys we re amo ng the most peaceful that I experienced on the second d ay. The go ld of the grai n fields met with the d eep blue 27

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