Road King

This Harley thing has reached a height typical for me. At first, I know nothing, then, I become obsessed with the thing until I reach near expertise on the subject. A few months ago, I didn't know anything about motorcycles. Then, one day, I got all fired up about them. I took the course to become a safe and responsible rider, bought all the gear to ride safely, and bought a 2003 Softail. I rode around a lot, but not too much, learning as I went. I became more confident and experienced, as with these, I started to pine over the ultimate bike: The Road King.

Actually, at first, I wanted it without knowing that I wanted it. I wanted an old fashioned looking bike, with big wheels and saddle bags. I saw the Fatboy and thought that was the bike for me. I attempted to chrome out parts of my bike. I added saddle bags and a windshield, but it was never enough. I knew that at some point I was going to have to get another bike to get the look and feel that I was after. A Softail Standard, no matter how nice, will always have that skinny tire. I just wanted a bigger ride.

I test rode a Heritage Classic, and I realized that it was too small for me. I felt crammed into the frame. I decided to take the Road King out for a ride, thinking that it would feel far too big and old-manish for me, but the moment I took off, I was certain. I had found my bike. I rode it for a while to make sure, but there was no need. I knew it, sure as anything.

I searched and searched until I found one that suited my tastes. I like black, and I like beach bars. When I found one that had both, and that had all the chrome I wanted as well as big saddle bags and a windshield, I had to go for it. It was a good deal, and I have been thrilled with it ever since.

The Softail Standard, though sporty looking and cool, was so loud, I felt embarrassed to be in traffic or in a quiet neighborhood. L was unhappy with the noise as well. Plus, the bike looked really bad-ass, and I am not very bad-ass. Quite simply, I just looked like someone I'm not on it, and that was not what I wanted. When I tried to name this bike (I name all my vehicles), no name would come to mind. I waited my Softail Standard to tell me it's name, but I never heard it over the din of those drag pipes.

The lady who used to own my Road King, bless her heart, gave the bike a little Tibetan bell that hangs from the right front side of the frame, just inches above the road. As I ride down the backroads, I can hear its pleasant little ding now and again, reminding me of the prayers it is sending to heaven on my behalf. A couple of nights ago as I was riding home I was thinkning of possible names again, just I had tried to do with my old bike. At that moment, I heard the ding of that bell, and I heard the following in my head: "Teacher says, 'every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings.'" I knew in that instant what my bike was telling me: It's name is Zuzu. I listenened some more, to be sure that I was getting it right, and I heard the gentle hum of the tires on the road, "zmmm-zmmm, zmmm-zmmm," and I was sure. My bike has a name, and she has told it to me.

Since I've been riding this new bike, I have felt relaxed and assured as never before. I no longer look towards buying another bike. I don't want to turn this bike into something it isn't. I love it, just the way it is.

When I'm out on the road, I get up to touring speed, hit the cruise control, sit back, look around, enjoy the quiet of the pipes, and listen to the road and my bike, reminding me what is important.