I felt like a trouble-maker today, Saturday a.m. Rode up to the local HD dealer just to buy a pair of boots (HD-branded boots being second to none in terms of quality and longevity, IMO), Little did I know that it was a HD "open house" event, i.e. until I saw 30 or so HD's lined-up in front of the store. Parked the RIII, nevertheless, well outside of the store's reserved parking zone. Quietly. Mad Dogs muzzled to a soft growl. Candidly went into the shop, which, I must admit, was both crowded and joyful, to find boots. No one paid attention to me... and I could not locate the boot display which I vaguely remembered from my HD days (which ended in 1996). Anyway, a few minutes later, on my way out, lo and behold, there was a dozen or so of HD store visitors , aging yuppies for the most part, who had spontaneously exited the store and the wine & beer & munching party that had been going on in there to look at my green RIII. Usual, dumb questions aside (reliability? relative value? , i.e " for that price you could have had a nice customized HD", resale value ? power? which they just can't believe, i.e. "more than twice that of a viagra-ized 1450cc Deuce?!, etc. ), they were indeed green with envy.
I hit the road quickly with my worn-out , Cat counterfeit boots on, for fear of stealing the HD store owner's show (a very good chap, BTW). Or, at least, for fear of ...er... just disturbing things.
But I realized something from that decent dozen: Good, bad or indifferent, HD owners (am talking about the civilized ones, mind you, not necessarily the potbellied, tattooed diehard ones, ) behaved as if, deep down, they were psychological hostages to HD. :???:
[ This message was edited by: Jamie on 2005-11-13 11:00 ]
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