Rode Hard and Put Away Hungry

I met three buddies at a Tucson gas station at 8:30 this morning for a ride to the Cycle World Motorcycle Show in Phoenix.  Good thing I choked down an English muffin at home first, because we rode two hours to Phoenix without a stop, spent two-and-a-half hours at the strangely food-free show venue, then rode two hours back to Tucson, once again without a stop.  My buddies thought this was quite normal.  I’m forced to conclude, therefore, that my propensity to get hungry around lunchtime is abnormal.

Since getting home, I’ve been a snackin’ fiend.  Popcorn, a popsicle, pickle slices, Spanish olives . . . my poor stomach!

Lack of food aside, the motorcycle show, at least in terms of vendors, was a shadow of its normal self.  Last year I walked through tent after tent, each one stuffed with riding gear, tires, and helmets.  No tents this year, and only a few vendors on the main floor.  Too bad, because I really need a new helmet . . . now I’ll have to buy one over the internet.

Motorcycle manufacturers, on the other hand, were well represented, and I finally saw a new Victory Vision in the flesh.  We were too late to sign up for demo rides, but when I found out you can’t get a Vision with anti-lock brakes . . . well, that’s a deal-breaker right there.  I sold my Electra Glide in order to buy an ABS-equipped Goldwing the first year Honda offered the option, and if I could have afforded it, I would have bought an ABS-equipped BMW years earlier.

Don’t know if I should admit this, but at one point I lagged behind my buddies and waited until they were out of sight in order to sit on motor scooters.  Can’t say exactly why, but . . . I like!  Suzuki has a 650cc scooter (that’s huge!), and Honda’s, though slightly less powerful (only 600cc), has ABS.  Both, by the way, have automatic transmissions, which is surely coming to full-sized motorcycles soon.  You know, if you wanted an economical commuter, a scooter could be the answer . . . if you didn’t mind being a pariah to your motorcycle buddies.

But maybe I already am a pariah.  Riding to and from Phoenix we passed at least 200 motorcyclists riding the other direction.  Every damn one of them waved.  After waving back the first 50 times, I decided this waving thing’s a crock of shit.  How do I know those other riders aren’t just heading down to the local Ace for a tube of caulk and some hose washers?  How do they know I’m not merely running a quick errand for the wife?  Brothers and sisters of the lonely highway my ass.

Ooh, suddenly I’m not feeling so hot.

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