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A Column on the Cult of the
Harley-Davidson

This column was originally published in June of 1996 in Vision Prescott-Russell. At the time, I was the editor of what was then a respectable weekly newspaper. (Shitty hours, low pay, but I had a great time...) In that paper, I wrote a column called "Bulldog on 13". Bulldog --he never lets go of a story until he's reached the bottom of it-- was my nickname; that was before Corbeau... "13" was its page number. The reference to the "Big Blue Machine" is to my truck, a 1979 GMC Suburban, two-tone blue (rust and air drafts). Lastly, I'd like to add that this column was written following a Toy Run that had stopped in Rockland for refreshments: 500 bikes, 700 bikers, and a big bunch of gawkers. I, as a reporter, was part of the later category.)

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Bulldog on 13

Of Chrome, Leather and Straight Pipes

The Bulldog was very impressed, last Sunday, by the display of cubic inches, unrestricted by mufflers. And it has nothing to do with the Big Blue Machine's lack of a proper exhaust system.

The Bulldog was also very impressed by all that chrome, shining in the afternoon sun, by those $20,000 machines on two wheels and their distinctive sound.

And by the owners of these beasts, and their distinctive black leather, black square-tipped boots, and standard black helmets.

The Bulldog was not alone, as a few hundred Rocklanders, Rocklandites, Rocklandians, Rochelanders or whatever were gawking as well at all those bikes with the Harley-Davidson emblem on the gas tank.

But from where does this fascination come?

One cannot say it's from the classic movie "The Wild One" (1953), since Marlon Brando, as Johnny, leader of the good guys, rode a Triumph. In that movie, the bad gang was all on Harleys.

One cannot say either it's from the popularity of those colour-clad bikers who play with really big firecrakers.

Maybe it's from the sound of that V-twin 80 cubic-inch engine, that idles so low it almost sounds like a continuous belch.

If any two-wheeled self propelled machine can give you life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, why is it that the attraction is only towards the only American-made motorcycle, and not those Japanese "plastic bikes"?

It has to do with the image, the Bulldog comes to think.

One could not find the rebel in him on a moped.

One would rather see himself in leather chaps than in tight leather racing pants with knee-pads and embroided with the name of an oriental warrior.

One would not want to see himself walking into a bar with a full face helmet under his arm. No. Better leave the standard-issue Harley-Davidson helmet on the bike.

That fascination with the "Live to ride, Ride to live" anthem also has to do with a dream which is for most unatainable.

Anyone can buy a 1982 Yamaha Seca for under a grand.

Those Harleys, second-hand, can be bought for 15, 20 or even 25 grand.

That makes a little difference in the monthly payments.

The limited supply of Harley-Davidsons and the ever growing demand for those machines makes an ideal condition to drive the prices up.

On the other hand, last Sunday in Rockland, over 500 afficionados demonstrated that they were willing to part with that kind of money.

And many more were wondering how it would feel to own one...

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