The Emperor's New Harley

The Emperor's New Harley

By Sean Quinlan

Once upon a time in a land far away where bamboo grows wild
in great abundance there was a country where motorcycles were
a national obsession.

People put up posters of their favorite dream bikes, such as
the GSX1300R Hayabusa; eagerly bought up all the bike magazines from
the news stands and there were endless discussions in college dorms,
village squares and city sidewalk cafes about the relative merits
of cruisers vs sportbikes, shaft drive vs belt vs chain, synthetic
vs natural motor oil, etc.

Naturally, all the nation's business came to a standstill when
_Orange County Choppers_ was scheduled on TV.

The Urban Proletariat and Lower Middle Peasants mostly rode 50cc
2 stroke step-through scooters because that's all they could afford.
However, they would embellish them lavishly with shiny accessories,
stereo sound systems with dual whip antennas and garish paint jobs
more flamboyant than Philippine jeepneys.

There was a lively engine rebuilding trade for boring out these small
motors for more displacement, especially where the extra power was
needed for use with trailers or sidecars or an array of recycled
plastic milk crates for bringing their produce to market. In fact,
speed shops and bike rebuilders could be found everywhere, even in
small towns and villages, and some of the best ones tucked away
in tiny, ramshackle sheds or nondescript holes-in-the-wall.

As their budgets allowed, rich peasants and the petty-bourgeoisie
favored the Dnepr, Ural and Chang Jiang, especially with side cars,
although the Ural Wolf was popular with university students.

The prosperous middle classes favored larger Japanese bikes. Teenagers
and young adults usually rode sportbikes, but later on they would
graduate to sport-touring models and then to cruisers, which were
considered more dignified. The Honda Goldwing conferred very high
status, especially when tricked out with as much tinsel, fancy
lighting effects and other expensive bling-bling as possible.

Being a Buddhist country, it was a national standing joke to refer
to a motorcycle's wheels as the "Mahayana" and "Hinayana" (literally,
"Greater" and "Lesser [ie, front] Wheel").

Members of the aristocracy rode exotic European bikes such as BMW,
Guzzi and Ducati, but officers in the armed forces made a point
of riding British bikes. Generally, the more senior the rank,
the more classic the model. The Chief of Army Operations rode a 1936
Ariel Square Four, while the Defense Minister owned a prestigious
1927 Royal Enfield with a hand shift lever. However, the First Lord
of the Admiralty was known to race around the flight deck of his
flagship aircraft carrier on a 1949 Norton Manx 500, but that was
considered exceptional.

Harley Davidsons, by long standing and deeply entrenched social
custom were reserved exclusively for the Royal Family.

Typically, a prince would ride a hard-tail chopper while the princesses
kept up a lady-like decorum on Sportsters. All their machines were
individually hand crafted at great public expense by specialty chopper
shops competing with each other for originality and style. It was
considered a great mark of distinction to display "By Appointment
to Her Royal Highness Princess So-and-so" on a business sign.

The Crown Prince rode a very stylish Night Rod trike conversion
(with tall, gracefully upswept pipes) with which he would squire
around fair damsels from the foreign diplomatic community.

The Empress had herself conveyed in a very ornate roofed sidecar
attached to a Road Glide customarily operated by one of her many
ladies-in-waiting. These were all gorgeous, scantily-clad babes who,
when not on duty attending to Her Majesty would spend their time
modeling string bikinis for the leading fashion designers whilst
draping themselves over the Royal Choppers for photographers, hoping
to get their pictures published in bike magazines such as _Easyriders_
and _Iron Horse_.

The Emperor himself of course had many bikes in his Royal Garage,
but his official ride for Occasions of State was a beautifully restored
1953 Hydra Glide with gilded panheads and inspection covers. Naturally
it had the Royal Coat of Arms painted on the gas tank along with
heraldic dragons and other symbols of his lofty office.

One day while inspecting his bike (he always did this personally)
the Emperor noticed a tiny speck of rust on the inner surface of
an exhaust heat shield. This did not upset him unduly, although
the Royal Motorcycle Manicurist had to be physically restrained from
committing suicide in disgrace. (The Emperor admonished him gently,
saying, "To expect such perfection from yourself is a vanity
unbecoming. Besides, if every one of our valued retainers killed
himself the moment the least little thing went wrong we would soon
have none left!")

However, this incident did put the thought into His Majesty's mind
that it might be a good time to acquire a new bike. The more he
thought about it the better he liked the idea, as he browsed through
Harley Davidson's brochure of new models. He briefly considered
the V-Rod as he liked the look of the visibly prominent tubular frame,
but rejected the idea upon remembering that his Heir Apparent already
rode one.

Finally he settled on a CVO Limited Edition FLHTCSE2 Screamin' Eagle
Electra Glide stroked out to 103 cubic inches with ThunderStar custom
wheels, vented lowers and a six-speed transmission (although in fact
he rarely got out of first gear).

Aftermarket extras included Performance Machine brakes, gear-driven
high-performance Woods cams, Supertrapp slip-ons and lots of other
expensive goodies -- including solid gold luggage racks (not that
the Emperor ever actually _carried_ any luggage; having a kilometer-
long fleet of 3-wheeled Harley Servi-Cars for the purpose).

After many long months the machine was finally delivered and customized
by the Imperial Bike Shop located in the nation's most venerable
Motorcycle University.

The Emperor decided to introduce the new Royal Ride to his people
at the traditional Harvest and Preventative Maintenance Festival
in late fall, during the Court's annual parade to the Winter Palace
in the capital city.

A special holiday was announced to allow the school children to attend,
and the route was lined with thousands of people, bikes, buxom girls
in wet T-shirts, freely flowing beer and everything else appropriate
to the biggest motorcycle rally of the year.

At first all went well. The Royal Guards led the parade on their
brilliantly white Kawasaki Police Specials. Then came the Princesses
on their (mostly) bright yellow Sportsters, decorated with traditional
feminine themes such as flowers, rainbows, birds, butterflies, and
other cheerful icons.

After them, to the barely muffled V-twin thunder rode the Royal Princes
on their elaborately styled choppers, followed by the Crown Prince on
his Night Rod trike, the passenger seat graced by the Norwegian
ambassador's daughter dressed in a traditional women's summer
(ie, skimpy) Viking costume, her waist-long blond hair flowing
gracefully in the breeze.

Then in stately dignity Her Majesty the Empress rolled past on her
Royal Road Glide sedan sidecar.

At last, the Emperor. His new chariot, the gleaming Ultra Classic
looked truly magnificent and the people were duly awed at the sight.

However, as His Supreme Highness passed by the Main Post Office in
the center of town, his motor suddenly coughed, sputtered and died.
No amount of cranking would restart it.

Showing not the least sign of distress, the Emperor merely leaned it
onto the sidestand and dismounted.

Instantly a team of mechanics in orange and black silk kimonos with
the familiar Harley Davidson logo (several of them pushing a huge red
rollaway) rushed up and surrounded the bike and began to attend to it.

Meanwhile his Dyna Glide was brought up next to him, operated by
another lady-in-waiting dressed in the costume of a Dallas Cowgirl
cheerleader.

As she got off and the Emperor was about to take the bike,
the penetrating voice of a small boy was heard above the murmur of
the crowd: "Daddy, why doesn't he ride a Kawasaki Vulcan like yours?
It never breaks down like this!"

A horrified hush fell over the nearby spectators as this little child,
in his innocence, spoke what seemed to him the obvious truth from
the evidence of his own senses.

Deeply embarrassed, the father clamped his hand over the boy's mouth,
but it was too late. The Great One had heard.

Smiling indulgently, he gestured for the pair of them to approach.
"Let the small boy speak," he said.

"Y-yes, Your Majesty," replied the father, trembling with fear.

"You need not tremble with fear," continued the Monarch; "No harm
will come to you. We would merely appreciate a moment of your son's
company."

"Of course," said the father, vastly relieved.

"Come over here, little fellow, climb up and sit on my bike. There,
take the grips. Now then. So your dad rides a Vulcan, does he?"

"Yes, sir, a Nomad 1500, may it please Your Majesty."

"Very good. And you say it never breaks down?"

"No, sir; he always keeps up the Preventative Maintenance schedule.
I helped him change the oil and air filter first thing this morning."

"Ah. Highly commendable, to be sure. Now let me explain to you why
Harleys are different. In a way, they're like girls. Surely even at
your age you understand that there's something special about girls,
don't you."

"Yes, sir."

"And you've seen movies about the old days, with high-born ladies
carried about in sedan-chairs?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now tell me, what is such a lady expected to do when she's
under stress?"

"To, ah, to faint, sir?"

"Exactly, although usually we say 'swoon'. It means to pass out;
to lose consciousness, doesn't it."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, as I mentioned, a Harley Davidson is like a lady. Beautiful,
very expensive to maintain; you never know quite what mood she'll be
in, and sometimes she passes out entirely. In fact, the people would
be disappointed if our Royal Harley _didn't_ break down at least once
in every parade. Of course, only Royalty can afford to indulge such
a temperamental Being. But we use it as a living Sutra, a Zen _koan_
for everyone to behold.

"You see, we are not overly bound to any one Wheel, nor yet too eager
to abandon it at the first sign of trouble. We choose the Middle Way,
that being the best tour route to Serenity. Is this not the first
principle of Buddhism?

"Yes, Sir. Hmm, I think I understand, Your Majesty."

"Very good. And now..."

At this point there was thunderous rumble up ahead as the Emperor's
new Harley roared back to life, the mechanics having adjusted
the Power Commander map to lean out the fuel mixture at low rpm's.

"And now," he said to the boy's father, "If you would be kind enough
to escort us on the Dyna Glide here, your boy will ride pillion on
our new Harley and we'll all continue the parade."

And so, to the wild cheering of the crowd, the procession resumed.
Soon an account of His Majesty's conversation appeared in newspapers,
on TV, on web pages and blogs and newsgroups, and all the populace
celebrated anew the deep wisdom and compassion of their Enlightened
Monarch. And for the rest of his days the little boy celebrated
the ride he had taken on the Emperor's New Harley.

The End.

 

<snip extremely long story>

Are you testing or spamming?

If testing
alt.test is -------------->

Is spamming
**** orf

 

That was crap.

 

Using the patented Mavis Beacon "Hunt&Peck" Technique, Grimly Curmudgeon

You *read* it?

--
Wicked Uncle Nigel - There are few things in life more sinister than a
public toilet with the lid closed.

WS* GHPOTHUF#24 APOSTLE#14 DLC#1 COFF#20 BOTAFOT#150 HYPO#0(KoTL) IbW#41
SBS#39 OMF#6 Enfield 500 Curry House Racer "The Basmati Rice Burner",
Honda GL1000K2 (On its hols) Kawasaki ZN1300 Voyager "Oh, Oh, It's so big"
Suzuki TS250 "The Africa Single" Yamaha GTS1000

 

I saw the header and deleted the original message.

 

I waited for the review.

 

As soon as I saw the "H" word I reconized it for the pile of wank it is....

--
Dan L (Oldbloke)

My bike 1996 Kawasaki ZR1100 Zephyr
Space in shed where NSR125 used to be
Spare Bike 1990 Suzuki TS50X (Patio Ornament)
BOTAFOT #140 (KotL 2005), X-FOT#000, DIAABTCOD #26, BOMB#18 (slow), OMF#11

 

Lapped it up. Got a bit choked up at the end.

 

Using the patented Mavis Beacon "Hunt&Peck" Technique, platypus

You old softy.

--
Wicked Uncle Nigel - There are few things in life more sinister than a
public toilet with the lid closed.

WS* GHPOTHUF#24 APOSTLE#14 DLC#1 COFF#20 BOTAFOT#150 HYPO#0(KoTL) IbW#41
SBS#39 OMF#6 Enfield 500 Curry House Racer "The Basmati Rice Burner",
Honda GL1000K2 (On its hols) Kawasaki ZN1300 Voyager "Oh, Oh, It's so big"
Suzuki TS250 "The Africa Single" Yamaha GTS1000

 

Like so much else in here, I painfully followed it line by tedious line
in the hope there would be a denoument/punchline/twist, even a mild
chuckle, ffs.

Alas, it was not to be. It was banal, dull, bereft of human interest,
and even worse, unoriginal.

 

Using the patented Mavis Beacon "Hunt&Peck" Technique, Grimly Curmudgeon

<loses interest, hits spacebar>

--
Wicked Uncle Nigel - There are few things in life more sinister than a
public toilet with the lid closed.

WS* GHPOTHUF#24 APOSTLE#14 DLC#1 COFF#20 BOTAFOT#150 HYPO#0(KoTL) IbW#41
SBS#39 OMF#6 Enfield 500 Curry House Racer "The Basmati Rice Burner",
Honda GL1000K2 (On its hols) Kawasaki ZN1300 Voyager "Oh, Oh, It's so big"
Suzuki TS250 "The Africa Single" Yamaha GTS1000

 

I read crap so you don't have to.

 

Using the patented Mavis Beacon "Hunt&Peck" Technique, Grimly Curmudgeon

You're practically a public service.

Well done, keep it up.

--
Wicked Uncle Nigel - There are few things in life more sinister than a
public toilet with the lid closed.

WS* GHPOTHUF#24 APOSTLE#14 DLC#1 COFF#20 BOTAFOT#150 HYPO#0(KoTL) IbW#41
SBS#39 OMF#6 Enfield 500 Curry House Racer "The Basmati Rice Burner",
Honda GL1000K2 (On its hols) Kawasaki ZN1300 Voyager "Oh, Oh, It's so big"
Suzuki TS250 "The Africa Single" Yamaha GTS1000

 

I was started reading it then got bored.
I was thinking of reading it tomorrow.

The Question is:
Should I read the original post?
or
Should I go and clean the shite off the inside of my Bandit's chain guard?

A small cash prize to the most original reply that doesn't involve synthetic
lubricants and/or sheep/BGN.

Dave