HD Infection!

I want you all to know that there has been an attempt on my ’life-as-I-knew-it’. I am the victim of a very clever conspiracy. It caught me completely unaware and I walked straight into their web. How can I escape? Here are the facts:

It appears that over the course of this European summer my undoubtedly K-green blood has been infected by a virus of yet to be seen force. At this stage I have seen some evidence that it may have been infiltrated by shades of orange and watermarked HD.

A few months ago this seemed too preposterous to even imagine in my wildest dreams, but after the last two days of road riding experience I am convinced that there has been at least a subtle change in my DNA. We all know what that means, don’t we?! It’s about the way we are seeing things, feeling and handle things, our general perception of the world we live in…

The ‘coup de gras’ took place over the last couple of sunny, 18 degree top-temp days. I was given 24 hour access to a 2011 black fatbob. Madness! Absolute madness! What else could possibly come to mind when considering the immense temptation that took place. How could I resist such seduction????

Allow me to bring you up to date with recent developments. My friend Uschi bought herself a Harley earlier this year, which is a pretty hot piece of machinery featuring a claw for a sidestand and an amazing dungeons and dragons design on the tank, loads of chrome and a weight to match its size. When she handed over the money to HARLEY NORD, they also gave her a voucher for a day of HDing, which was then passed on to me as a present. (I can see right through her strategy now!)

All throughout this 2010 season I accompanied them to all the HD events I could possibly fit in on my busy schedule. There were the Hamburg HD Days, Luebeck, Fehmarn, there was MoGo, there were rides, there was Hoopte. I was introduced to all the nice people she and Erwin knew who ride cruisers and most of them ride Harley Davidsons. They quickly became my ‘family away from home’. For five months I was immersed in their talk and surrounded by the merchandise.

To be honest, had you asked me a few months ago, I would have been politely declining the suggestion to hop on a cruiser and go for a ride, but it has been so long since I rode my Ninjalista, that I had a hard time remembering what it was like. The last I had heard of her was that her battery is flat…jeez! I won’t be going anywhere in a hurry on that!

Well, time has been an issue for me on more than one occasion, but we finally made a date to suit everyone. Uschi even took a day off work. How sweet is that???! Or was it???

I must admit that I had procrastinated big time. I was quite scared. The sheer size of these things terrified me more than I could express. My mouth was dry, my hands sweaty, my heart beat so loudly that I thought it was about to jump out of my chest.
I was unsure wether I could handle it quite literally: 330 kg of steel horse between my legs! Simply insane!

My mother called after me: ride carefully!
‘Of cause! I always do!’ But was I sure?
Not in the least.

Erwin gave me a lift from Ashausen, a sweet little village not far from Hamburg’s Southern border, where we met Uschi and Rudi. It was just the four of us who spent the day riding together.

A couple of days earlier I had been on the phone to HD Nord, checking if they were ok with me turning up on Wednesday to claim the ‘prize’. I spoke to Piet, who had a really nice HH accent and a calm voice. He seemed ok with the whole arrangement and was quite positive and relaxed about it. When I explained that these new friends of mine had dragged me all over the country side on their Harleys and now wanted me to try it too, he said ‘well, that’s the way it should be…’ and booked me in for Wednesday 10am.

We arrived and I got straight into panic mode; I could hardly think.

Piet was a slim, tall man with long grey hair kept neatly in a ponytail. He had steel blue eyes, the knowing kind that look straight into your soul, but fill you with confidence. I told him that I wanted to start on an ‘easy’ ride, so he got me to try a couple of bikes for seating positions and for size. Don’t ask me what bikes I had a go on, but we soon settled on a black fat-something.

Piet explained the basic layout and handed me the key with the rego papers. I couldn’t help but notice a twinkle of intensity in his eyes. I had seen that before back in the 80s. It reminded me of Bhagwanian people belonging to his Orange Ashram. It was the kind of look that says it all: I know what makes you happy… but I didn’t get it then and there. I was totally consumed by self-doubt and shit scared that I was going to be in over my head here and I’d drop this street something. Stupid!!

21 thousand Euros…when I overheard the price-tag of this beast I could not help but ask whether I was insured, as my travel budget would certainly not cover it.

It was time for take-off.

As I started the sweet sounding engine and slowly let go of the clutch an employee winked at me and called me “Rockerbraut!”, which made me laugh out loud as he was just so far from the truth and we both knew it.

My feet paddled along the carpark, but as soon as my body realised where to put them, things started to settle and I took my first corner out of the safety of the remote premises onto the busy road. First gear, shift, second gear, then a green light turning amber…the breaks, the breaks!!! Hmmm…ABS! phew!!

The handlebar seemed made for me. The footboards took a little getting used to and I hardly used the gear-lever set-up to its full advantage, but the seat hugged my butt and it was very comfortable. I hardly felt the bumps in the road. Its 1600cc made city traffic, open road and Autobahn riding a breeze and the sound it made was sheer bliss.

The sun finally broke through the grey, fog laden morning, just in time for the ride through the autumn coloured country side. The road Uschi chose was like a golden chain speckled with small villages, featuring the old homesteads one would expect to see in a German travel brochure. We were on our way to Ploen, a little picturesque country town built alongside a big lake.

The four of us, three Harleys and a Moto Guzzi, rode well together. The pace was…well, what do you expect from cruisers? It was relaxed and I caught myself thinking that this could be some solution to an ever-growing problem of keeping that license nice and clean.

We had lunch at a restaurant by the water and walked along the shore amongst trees with red and orange foilage, enjoying every one of those 18 degrees the autumn sun had provided. What a great day it had turned out to be!

Our next stop was Scharbeutz, giving a momentary urge to go for a ride into Denmark a miss for Mario’s icecream… yummy! Marzipan!!!

Little did I know that the seduction of all my senses was at work here…they are a clever lot indeed those ‘friends’ of mine! Was it possible that I had encountered the clutches of an HD sect? Were they all just ‘members’??? Spooky…after all, it was October and those tared roads were punctuated by displays of bright orange pumpkins.

Orange…black and orange…orange…

Our roadside-parked hogs had become the object of public fascination. Quite a few people had stopped and stared when we readied ourselves for take off. Or was it because we had discovered that Erwin had got lucky and some dirty seagull-shit bullseyed right down the front of his all-American HD leather jacket.

Once he’d been cleaned up we made our way along the Baltic seaside to head inland to Hoopte along the river Elbe, a popular hangout for bike riders. Over a Latte Macchiato I had to decide wether to take the baby home or return it there and then. Uschi had it all worked out: “that way you can ride it tomorrow as well…”
It sounded convincing enough and to my surprise I had memorised the Harley Nord phone number…040 41 30 300. Piet was on the line and I told him that I won’t be back until the next morning. He said to have fun and not to stress out if it wasn’t there exactly on time. Great!

I took it home, showed it off and hardly slept a wink. It rained. The next morning I rode into the village to get the paper and bread rolls. It felt great to turn up in leather and on a hog, but where was everyone I knew? Unfortunately the place seemed suddenly to be inhabited by a bunch of complete strangers. What a shame! I would have liked to have made a lasting impression…

I picked up Erwin, who’d made breakfast for me, and we made our way into the big smoke. Stop and go, short spurts, lane changes, sudden stops, ever changing wet road surfaces…nothing the bike could not handle. I had confidence in the bike, which made me feel like quite a competent and happy rider.

Piet opened the garage door and came to greet me. He had that knowing smile again and this time I got it in one: He knows exactly what makes a woman like me happy.

It must be nice to be convinced by the product you sell…and he’s just the man to do it.

There was I with a grin on my face that reached from ear to ear.





Then I simply had to come back down to earth.

The rest of that grey old day I spent being moody and quarrelling. I think I was somewhat depressed, but certainly sleep deprived.

Orange…black and orange…orange…

Is there hope? Who can I turn to? Who can I trust? I can feel a fever coming on, a little obsession starting here and there…their 2011 catalogue is now on my bedside table. It helps me cut through the fog. Is there anyone who knows how to administer the antidote?


http://www.harley-hh.de/