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.