Headed home. Before I do, I want to talk about my motorcycle, the Revival.
The Revival is a 2021 Harley Davidson motorcycle, a remake of the iconic 1969 Electra Glide, the classic Hog. Harley Davidson made 1500 of these bikes. Mine is number 1307, Lucky 13.
It’s a horrible touring motorcycle, it’s astonishing how bad it is. The seating position is that of an old-fashioned wooden school desk; feet flat, back straight, 90-degree angles at hips and knees. The impact of any and every pothole, expansion joint and lousy bit of asphalt is transmitted directly up your spine. And because your feet are forward of your hips, you can’t use your legs to protect your back. Bumps hurt.
It weighs 864 pounds. (roughly twice the weight of my BMW touring bike). Maneuvering the bike in and out of Waffle House parking lots and around gas pumps is risky and slow (and they’ve got those big plate glass windows at Waffle House so you’ve got an audience). And you can’t get off and push it around, as I routinely do with other motorcycles, because once that 864 pounds starts to shift from vertical, it gets heavy fast and you want a leg on either side to catch it.
It handles like the hog that it is; as you set up for a turn — freeway on-ramp, one of Tail of the Dragon’s 318 curves, whatever — you’re on the brakes early because slowing down takes a while, it tips into the turn slowly and reluctantly and waddles you up to the apex. As you pass the apex and try to straighten the bike up, it resists the pull on the bars and you struggle with it, you struggle until the double yellow line and oncoming traffic are getting uncomfortably close and the bike is again vertical, you then exhale and start getting ready for the next one. It’s got very little ground clearance, so you can’t lean it very far without dragging hard parts on the pavement.
It has 97 horsepower. For an 864-pound modern motorcycle, that’s way, way, way underpowered.
The Revival is the best touring bike I’ve ever owned. By far. It represents America at one of its finest hours, 1969, Neil Armstrong, Civil Rights, color TVs in walnut cabinets, shag carpeting. It’s good union jobs and a livable minimum wage. It’s the Camaro, the Mustang and the Coupe DeVille with white wall tires. It’s Janis, Grace, Jimi and John Fogerty. It’s Nixon before most people knew he was Nixon. Sure, we had Viet Nam, but the tide was turning and Walter Cronkite was on it. The Japanese motorcycle invasion had started but we didn’t know it, all we knew about Japan was that we’d beaten them in The War. America sat astride the Harley Davidson Electra Glide and the world with pride.
Fifty years later, people of America love the Electra Glide’s revival, the color, the lines, the stature, the heft, the Americanness of it. It can’t be defined by numbers or feel at the handlebars and butt, it’s defined by the woman in the parking lot who wants a picture, the black kid on the horse, the Iraqi immigrant, the woman with the prosthetic leg. The Revival is flawed and ridiculous and it’s us. And everyone wants to talk about it. And about themselves. Wandering these United States talking to people and retelling their stories, the Revival is perfect. The Revival is a celebration of us…
Riding a motorcycle in 103 degree weather across Iowa and Missouri, north to south, is not a story, no matter how sweaty your t-shirt.
Premium still priced at $0.299
Chatting it up with a bearded, long-haired local in a camo-schemed 70’s Chevy 4×4 pickup idling along a gravel track in a secluded State Recreation Area is not a story, it’s a movie. And you know what happens. Except nothing happened, there were five kids in the back of the truck and they’d been swimming ‘dahn tuh crick’. They waved as they idled away.
Riding a motorcycle through St. Louis in 80 mph rush hour traffic, hot and tired, could be a story, but only if you don’t make it. Close calls don’t count.
An abandoned Red Crown gas station with Premium still priced at $0.299 is cool but without characters or narrative it’s not a story. But it was great background for the Revival.
Having breakfast for dinner at Waffle House is not a story. It’s breakfast (scrambled eggs and a waffle). The young waiter was curious and chatty and bad at his job and he wanted my story. For himself. (I love Waffle House)
The wisps of cool as I rode into the evening, the temperature on the dash gauge dropping in little fits below 100 degrees for the first time in hours and then below ninety so that the feel of the wind became cool, refreshing, ethereal. Not a story, but a damn nice way to end the day.
Bessie StringfieldMy 2021 Electra Glide Revival Packed Up
A hundred and four degrees yesterday, Minneapolis to Waterloo. Geared up in helmet, jacket, gloves and boots, that’s hard riding. That’s all.
This trip I’m riding a Harley Davidson motorcycle, an Electra Glide Revival, a 2021 remake of the 1969 Electra Glide; a motorcycle as iconic to its time as Viet Nam, Woodstock, civil rights and that one small step. A limited run, the bike is number 1307 of 1500, Lucky 13.
I’m trying to decide whether to like it. It’s heavy, very heavy (at 864 pounds, it weights as much as any two of my BMWs), and handles accordingly. Despite it’s enormous displacement, 114 cubic inches (1870 cc), it’s underpowered and passing takes thought and planning. The seating position is as upright as a school desk, which is no comfort to butt, spine or teeth on bouncy rural roads. The brakes are fine but barely.
On the other hand, it has cruise control, it’s handsome and gets lots of compliments. And it has that quiet Harley burble that synchronizes with the rhythms of the heart and makes you feel happy. While it’s not as good as sex, it’s the same genus…. The guys on the loud Harleys aren’t getting it.
It’s also safe. I’m riding into the south; Missouri, Arkansas, Mississippi, Alabama and elsewhere as whim strikes. My intention is to listen to people whose politics I disagree with, to encourage them to have their say. The Harley Davidson provides entrée, it makes me a non-threatening ambassador. My BMWs don’t do that.
Last night I stayed at the Motel 6 in Waterloo. I made a lot of money working for Motel 6 back in the day, I thought it was only fair that I give them $67.00 back. Also, they have good coffee.
Photos are Bessie Stringfield (worth a moment on Wikipedia) with her 1960s Harley Davidson and my 2021 Revival.
