Belly Button Lint: Rick Ramsey's Weblog

It was while hanging off the left side of the bike, knee tucked into the fairing wing, toes on the pegs, elbows down, arms relaxed, head level, looking through the corner at the apex of the two-lane in Northern Maine while keeping the three Ducatis I was chasing in my peripheral vision that I realized I needed to sell my 130 hp BMW autobahn burner and go back to riding Harleys.

After six hours of Northern Maine I can't tell you what the place looks like. At the end of the ride the Ducs and the Beemers that were chasing them gathered to eat and brag, but I couldn't bring myself to do either. I just kept looking out the window at the Harleys that potato-potatoed by.

The latest Suzuki GSX-1000 reaches 105 mph in 1st gear. If you're still holding the throttle wide open when you hit 60 mph or so, it will pop a wheelie. It has enough power to do a Mister Potato Head impersonation before you can say "Ooops." One buyer at a local dealership took delivery of his brand new Gixxer only to launch it straight into the sturdy New England rock wall across the street. He put less than .1 miles on the odometer.

But Harleys are pigs. They don't accelerate. They don't turn. Compared to the GSX-1000, they sure don't.

Don Hippo, a minor legend in Harley online circles, put it best...

"It's more fun to ride a slow bike fast than a fast bike slow.

The Pirate, a minor legend in online BMW circles, would reply with...

"Yeah, but it's more fun to ride a fast bike fast."

You can reduce motorcycling to the thrill of speed and the mastery of the turn, but it's so much more.

It's the simple joy of traveling through the outdoors, the feel of wind in your hair, the smell of cows in the pasture and flowers by the side of the road. The pleasure in the center of your chest a V-twin engine gives you at 3000 RPM. It's appreciating the texture of the controls and the glint of metal off the headlight. It's the way the bike pulls without effort from its sweet spot and how a subtle shift in your weight makes it move over. It's your singleminded focus on surrounding traffic. It's the geometry of lining up the throttle, transmission, wheels, and body perfectly for the next turn. It's sensing the tone and behavior of the engine you service and tune as it changes in changing weather, knowing every tick and click it should or shouldn't make. It's having photo wars with your daughter along Connecticut's two lanes in Autumn. It's the smile on a riding buddy's face. It's the satisfaction of pulling into a small town, stopping at the light, dropping your boots on the pavement, and taking a deep breath in the afternoon sunshine while the motor rumbles beneath you.

If I could afford it, I'd get a used Ducati and ride it on the track. Ducatis rock. But for motorcycling through America's two lane roads, give me a Harley.