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11 Bike Lust “The bike is like a living thing. It’s real. It’s an entity in its own right. It’s family.” Six days ago I picked up my new bike, a Low Rider (FXD). She’s black, of course, and incredibly beautiful. She’s streamlined and sleek and powerful. All other thoughts pale in comparison to bike contemplation . I talk bikes to anyone who will listen. I call friends across the country who couldn’t tell a bike from a bulldozer, and I babble about my Low Rider. I go and sit on her while she’s parked in the garage. It’s raining constantly in California and riding is at a standstill. But still I sit on my bike. I imagine the rides, the roads, and the wind. Although I have had my Low Rider only six days, she has already been ridden eight times. I confess, a totally female thing, that I did not ride her home. I bought this bike without ever having ridden a Big Twin. I bought her because I wanted more stability in the wind than my Sporty was able to offer. I wanted a stronger, sturdier, and heavier bike. I was not looking for speed or power, but apparently I got both. I got the complete package. Since both my husband and my riding buddy Debby were at work and I refused to ride the bike home alone, I asked one of the guys at Dudley Perkins if he would ride for me. Mark Kammueller said he would. He thought it was a strange request, but hey, nothing is too odd when it comes to bikes. Besides, Mark was always giving me a hard time at the shop so this was right up his alley. I appreciated his help and recognized that giving someone a hard time was Mark’s way of being nice. So there we were—me in the car, Mark on my Low Rider, and the wet pavement sprinkling my new bike with water. As soon as Ken came home that night, we went riding. Within seven seconds, I knew that this was the right bike, the right time, the right everything. My sleek, stripped, gorgeous Low Rider is absolutely 192 Bike Lust the most incredible ride on the road. Ken calls my fascination and love of this bike “obsession” and says he’s been there more than once. I call it “bike lust.” She had to be modified, of course. No Harley stays the way it rides out of the shop. My bike got a Bandlander seat, new muffler, pipes, and air cleaner. The carb was rejetted and the easy-pull clutch grip installed. I now had a bike that was two inches lower, easier on the clutch, and sounded like a Harley. She rumbled, she roared, she purred. This was bike lust. She also had a name. Most men do not name their bikes. Most women do. Not all women and definitely not all men follow this rule, but it covers many. The men who do name their bikes rarely talk about it. It’s seen as much too sentimental. Some Harleys are referred to as female. Some Harleys are seen as male. Ken’s bike, the Beast, is neither male nor female. But out of respect , he will never call his bike “it.” He always refers to the bike as “the Bike” or “the Beast.” His new Road King has yet to be named. My Low Rider is Lady. There is never any doubt that the name fits. She is all things a lady should be. She is strong, beautiful, lusty, powerful , and fast. She purrs or roars depending upon mood. When passing a car that might consider turning into our lane, she growls and screams. She has a mind and heart of her own. My other bikes also had names. The wonderful Honda 250 that I learned to ride only four years ago was called Baby. Selling her was hard to do but with a brandnew Sportster in the garage, I had no choice. If I had kept the Honda Rebel, I would never have ridden the Sportster. It was a hard transition. The Sportster, appropriately named Beauty, has lived up to her name. Both of my bikes now sit in the garage. It is time to sell Beauty. I feel disloyal even as I write this, but I know that if I keep Beauty it will be hard to ride Lady. Lady...

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