My Name is Dario. I was born in Sicily a long time ago, and I have been riding ever since. In 1997, I moved to the USA to become rich. While I clearly failed at that, I’ve had the opportunity to own and ride more bikes than I have hairs on my head (maybe a few more). This is one of the many stories, observations and experiences I have had riding and living the motorbike lifestyle with the Yankees.

One of my dreams is to find a way to love a Harley Davidson. Any Harley Davidson.  You would think that would not be so hard as I like almost anything with two wheels and an engine. For instance I would gladly give up my day job to own a 1963 Triumph Desert Sled (possibly in the form of a Steve McQueen replica) or - for the same trade-in price - a Ducati Desmosedici RR. I even like the newly redesigned Royal Enfield that can quite possibly top the Chinese 125cc GP technology (both a stellar example of being impervious to failure). Hell, I would even buy the next promise of a motorcycle from MotoCzysz.

But a Harley? I don’t think I can do it. It is not that I cannot gain enough weight to justify that type of bike as my only choice. Given how much I love eating pasta, gaining a few stone is not a problem… really. But rather I can not find a way to talk myself into spending between 20 and 40 thousand dollars for a superficial assembly of ’70s technology (at its prime, I admit). Even if can become really *really* shiny with another 10K, it remains an intent of a modern motorbike, rather than a modern motorbike itself. Of course it could be a great way to improve bonding with your grandfather, but still… unexciting.

Please don’t think I have something against a motorcycle that produces 65hp with a 1600cc motor. It is a kind of exaggerated and unsophisticated slowness I can come to enjoy, eventually. (Dario's daily commuter car is a 7 litre V8 with "only" 505hp - Ed) And I know I am brave enough to ride something that despite a blistering acceleration (though, ahem, never significantly exceeding the speed limit - Ed), will positively *not* stop unless it feels the time is right.

But the main issue can easily be related to the motorbike technical capabilities. I cannot imagine buying a bike that is designed to only allow enjoying riding on a straight line for a very long time… I cannot imagine it simply because there is no pleasure in that. And I do know what I am talking about: December 28th 2007, 9:05 am.  I rode from San Jose, California to Phoenix Arizona. 901 miles in 15 hours crossing mountains and deserts while defeating peak hours LA traffic (with rain), 45 mph wind gusts (in the desert) and cold (while wet on the mountains). Even if I had music, a huge windshield, and my ass was made of iron I would still go insane (I still count the bugs that hit my helmet). Feel free to disagree, but to me that is not a fulfilling riding experience.

I want to say that I do like the riders of cruisers and HD motorbikes. The many I have  met, I gladly admit, are great guys. Open minded, laugher inclined, and beer loving just like me. As I was doing the research for this article I stopped near a vista point where 3 of them were hanging out. Super friendly guys, fun to talk to, and - given that they were two times my size – compassionate about my bike of choice. Cheers mates! A few of them, at times, leave me puzzled though. Every now and then, on the local roads, I find the occasional braveheart who wants to prove that he and his expensive credit card bill can go faster then the sports bike I am riding. What he does not see from his mirrors are the yawns, the Buddhist exercise of patience, my long overdue pre-ride checks, and my yellow flag “do not pass” training. I like the sparks of their chrome on the asphalt, though. Also some of them seem to have an obsessive attention for shiny. Expensive shiny that is. If you are 10 years old or a women that just received an engagement ring, its all good (no honey, not you it is just an example). But for an adult man? It seems more an attempt to prove credit worthiness then pursuing the idea of “beauty in the eye of the beholder” thing. I really don’t know.

What I do know is that an increasing number of them die on the not-so-open roads. Alarmingly people in their 50’s that are finally close to retirement and have the cash to prove it,  are crashing their brand new Harleys or similar. There were 549 fatal motorcycle accidents in California during 2008, more than double the total of a decade ago. Obviously these are not only old newbies, but the statistics are important enough to prompt the California Highway Patrol to have safety seminars targeted to them. Another indication how the tragic situation is: I recently found out that nurses at the some hospitals are starting to call them “donor-cycles”.

Also I noticed that listening to the radio early in the morning, I often hear the words: “motorcycle accident” especially at the start of spring. You may think it the bad traffic, but no reasonable European can call American highways car density, “traffic.”  I mean oblivious, stupid, latte-sipping-while-talking-the-cell killers in cars/minivans are everywhere but nothing compares to an hour riding commute let’s say in Rome. It’s like comparing a Sunday ride with friends, with the Isle of Man TT.

Another interesting experience was the other day I was having coffee with “Jeff”. This nice mellow guy after many years of not riding, decided to purchase an H-D Iron 883 (probably the only reasonably priced American bikes). As we were talking I mentioned the reason why I was not happy with my Kawasaki Z1000 handling. As I tried to explain I was surprised by his reaction when I said the word ”suspension.” “Suspension??” he replied. Yes, Jeff. The long tubular things in front of your bike… that go up and down(?!).

Personally I came to the conclusion that there is a fundamental lack of skill or worse, a lack of desire to acquire skill, by this particular motorcycle riders population.

These observations bring me to one of the major reason why I do not like H-D or “cruiser” type of bikes. It seems that owning those bikes is not about riding and nor about the motorbike. It is the aesthetics, the status symbol or maybe the generic, incomplete, idealistic idea of it.  Maybe the origin of my stereotyped dislike has to be searched in whatever was (mis)interpreted of Marlon Brando “The Wild One", and Fonda and Hopper in “Easy Rider”.  Or may be something went south when Americans merged the ideas of these movies and try to homogenize the self expression, and the freedom of the open road of “Easy Rider”, with the bad-ass attitude “I am cool and I can ride a motorcycle” of Brando. Either way riding any motorcycle once or twice in summer, with a T-shirt and ½ helmet, and wanting to experience the thrill of a full open throttle on a twisty road is, in a few words, fulfilling your destiny. 

I think the bottom line is that I want to know what suspension setting does to improve the handing of a motorbike rather than dreaming of a 45 degrees rake. I care more for a purpose-specific, beautifully-crafted aluminum piece than a chromed chunk of heavy steel. I like to choose handlebar height because of the effects on the geometry of the bike rather then installing “ape hangers” because they look “cool.” I want to have a riding experience that can make me understand how little I know about riding and how much I still have to learn, rather then a measure of how many people I impressed for the day. Not to mention that I would never be able to get over all the bloody jokes my friends will make when I tell them “I rode the Fat Boy today”.  Does not sound right on so many levels.

I will still wave at my fellow H-D riders on the street. I still respect their choices and surely will have a chat and a laugh at the next hang-out. But you will not see me on H-D, unless I am unconscious (or dead) and someone propped me against one for the perfect practical joke.