The Decision: Why I "Retired" My Harley and Bought A Gold Wing... And Vice Versa

The following text consists of a series of Compuserve messages, written over the course of several weeks in early 1997. Its geneis was the 2-1/2 years I spent in in a costly sadomasochistic relationship with a 1990 Harley-Davidson Ultra Classic Electra Glide. The camel’s back was broken in July of 1996, when I retrieved the bike from the dealer after its 35K service. It was, in a word, unrideable. In a fit of pique, I put the Harley up for sale and bought a 1993 Gold Wing, which turned out to be a virtually perfect transportation appliance. 

Some Formatting Notes:
Roman Type indicates messages from me. Italic Type indicates messages from others. Brackets <<of any kind>> enclose text lifted from the message being replied to, in order to provide context. The "header" information has been cut to show only the date, sender, and recipient. The original subject line of this "thread" was Wing/HD Re-redux.

Compuserve-specific formatting information: _word_ or *word* is meant to indicate word. Real italics weren't possible within the context of Compuserve’s limited formatting capabilities. And <G> stands for grin, to indicate a less-than-serious intent for the preceding text.

25-Jan-97 09:43:20
Fm: David Drucker 74757,775
Dear friends,
Kindly indulge me as I ponder one of life’s weightier problems; as reason wrestles with emotion; as I once again dance along the edge of an abyss already strewn with the wreckage of countless four-wheeled bitches from hell. I can’t help it. I’m nuts. But I’m getting better: I’m only nuts two wheels at a time now.

You see, as the office chair-to-motorcycle saddle ratio slides further and further to the latter’s disadvantage, my reasons for switching from two to six cylinders seem to grow more and more hazy. My desk is littered with snapshots of the Ultra; my Windows wallpaper is a picture of Tina, dressed in leather, standing by the bike at our first Americade.



I find myself leafing through the new parts catalog, and weighing the pros and cons of an Ultra vis-a-vis a Road King optimized for touring. The proper seat and handlebars, along with a beer box/backrest (to be attached only when Tina’s along) would leave the King lacking only a sound system. A Walkman and helmet speakers would easily fill that gap, and probably leave me a couple of grand to the good. (More money for chrome.) What to do, what to do. (For the moment, I’ll beg the question of how to pay for this adventure in the first place.)

Meanwhile, the Gold Wing -- that paragon of touring perfection -- gathers dust in the garage. It hasn’t been run for two months, but the Battery Tender’s green light glows reassuringly, and the tank is full. I have every confidence that, were I to hit the starter this second, the engine would fire up instantly. I’m equally sure that it would take me across the country and back without a murmur of protest. And despite this, yesterday I showed it to a highly motivated prospective buyer. If he takes it, there will be a gap of at least six months before the ‘98 I ordered arrives. To fill that gap I will have to grab the tail of the tiger that is my treacherous ‘90 Ultra, and fervently hope that it doesn’t circle around and bite me on the ass. Jeez.

Those of you who recall my earlier statements about being too old for a love/hate relationship with a machine are free to make the appropriate rude noises in my direction.

DD (looking to be sedated)

25-Jan-97 14:02:00
Fm: David Drucker 74757,775
To: Mike Kelly 72230,3347
<< your problems with your Ultra are a thing of the past, and not to be deemed a current problem. (Of course, I don’t have to depend on the damn thing <G>) >>

From your mouth to God’s ears!

<< You forget, my friend, each of us suffers from the same plight. Were this not the case, why would Gawd have invented motorcycles in the first place? >>

To frighten mothers, wives, and girlfriends of course. But not necessarily in that order.

d

27-Jan-97 09:50:02
Fm: David Drucker 74757,775
To: Mike Kelly 72230,3347
<< On top of the thoroughly logical presentation Jay has made, don’t you honestly find the Gold Wing boooooring? >>

Absolutely, but that’s often a very endearing trait. Over the course of many four-wheeled adventures, I’ve found that "interesting" just about always translates into "very expensive -- and often incompetent -- repairs at frequent intervals."

What I’d truly like to believe is that the Harley’s *character* can be enjoyed without the concomitant pain I’ve experienced thus far. It took me four tries to achieve that combination in a wife, and I’ve only owned one Harley, so I guess there’s hope <G>.

DD

27-Jan-97 16:12:06
Sb: #78679-Wing/HD re-redux
Fm: David Drucker 74757,775
To: Dennis White 71342,642 (X)
Dennis,

<< I have seen this before. Your initial infatuation with the Wing’s creature comforts has faded, and you are now suffering from what is known in the trade as "big piston envy". >>

First, let me assure you that I will *never* lose my infatuation for creature comforts, wherever they may be found. As for "big piston envy"... the Wing’s "little" pistons certainly get the job done. In fact, they provide ample proof that "it ain’t the size, it’s the motion" has a certain amount of veracity. (I’ve certainly heard that adage often enough, albeit in another context. But I digress.)

<< I think it’s becoming clear that in your gut you want a Road King. You know it. I know it. We all know it. Otherwise, the question of whether said RK can be coaxed into an acceptable touring configuration would not be at issue; you’d just flip to the Ultra page in the catalog and that would be that. >>

But touring configuration -- especially as it relates to Tina’s comfort -- is the primary issue. As a solo mount, I’d much prefer an FLHR, albeit with a suitable replacement for the factory’s Torquemada-inspired handlebars. Aside from the obvious aesthetic considerations, the Road King has far fewer electronics scrambling around looking to cause trouble. The ideal, I suppose, would be a bayonet-mount wraparound passenger backrest that could also support a T-bag.

<< Dump the ‘90 Ultra (clearly bad karma at work here). Keep the Wing until you can score a new RK. Then, if you can find a way to have the RK serve as a 2-up tourer as well as your personal ride, great; dump the Wing and you’re done. If not, retain the Wing for touring. (Hey, if you can ignore the $$ so can I) >>

Bad karma in one sense, but a serious sentimental attachment in another. Have I told you the story behind that bike? Remind me when we’re face-to-face. Anyway, I’ve had the thing up for sale since early August; the fairly pressing need to halve my motorcyle inventory is at the root of this process. (By extension, the ideal notion of simultaneously owning a King and a Wing is, quite simply, beyond the realm of possibility.)

<< You write better than I do, so as a penance (it’s a Catholic thing) for all your waffling your assignment is to pen a suitably snide self-directed barb and post it for our amusement. >>

My people only do penance once a year; our year-round specialty is hauling around enormous sacks full of guilt. One of mine is filled with the memory of 30 years of tossing cash at goofball vehicles (and their assorted mechanics). In the same sack is the image of the lovely summer cottage the same money would have bought. And yet, I keep at it.

Ah, well...

DD

27-Jan-97 22:40:44
Fm: David Drucker 74757,775
To: Mike Kelly 72230,3347
<< we would mostly agree the EVO is a rather bullet proof engine unless tinkered with too much by the amateurish, ignorant, and inexperienced. >>

Agreed, with the clear exception of the need for new engine cases, the main drive pulley disaster, the leaking jugs... hey, wait a minute! Seriously, though, I don’t guess my experience was typical.

<< ... the Ultra is butt ugly. >>

Here we part company: I only find the Ultra’s appearance lacking when it’s parked next to a Road King. Not all of us are forced to suffer that comparison on a regular basis <G>. OTOH, I think that the Road King looks good no matter what color it’s painted, while the Ultra’s appeal varies dramatically with color.

d

28-Jan-97 20:54:57
Fm: David Drucker 74757,775
To: Mike Kelly 72230,3347
<< Similar but no longer identical. The ‘97 Ultra has had a revision, apparently lowering the seating position and inch or so.>>

All of the FL bikes got the new frame...

<< I do agree though, the seating for Tina could be dealt with on the RK with the tour pack. I also would think with some creative bangin’, slammin’, and cursin’, you could configure a relatively easy removal system for the tour pack. >>

One of my former fathers-in-law could fabricate such a thing in his sleep --in stainless steel, yet! Ask Jay about THE GRILL.

d

28-Jan-97 20:54:56
Fm: David Drucker 74757,775
To: Dennis White 71342,642 (X)
<< Bars are of course easily replaced with whatever you like. >>

Right: no problem there.

<< Am I right that the frame geometries of the FLHR & FLHTCU are the same? If so, wouldn’t you have access to the same seat options - at least in the aftermarket - with either bike? >>

I’ve got no problem with the stock Ultra seat. Carrying the argument further, for touring an Ultra Seat with Tour Pack and back rest, all of which should be made removable for a quick switch to a solo seat. Tina doesn’t care about arm rests, so that combo would be equivalent to the Ultra for the passenger. Bottom line, though, is that it’s a lot easier to just take the Ultra and leave it at that.

dd

29-Jan-97 14:35:25
Fm: David Drucker 74757,775
To: Dan Starr 73072,523
<< I don’t know that it was all that atypical either, though. All those things failed on my bagger... >>

I knew you could be counted on to provide a voice of reason here! Your litany of woes reminded me that my own voltage regulator, turn signal module (2x), and stator went south, and that my base gaskets were replaced. And that my right muffler fell off. And...

(Apropos base gaskets, the people who sell the M6 chain tensioner are advertising a couple of fixes: one is a set of gaskets, the other some kind of pressure relief for the crankcase. Too new for field reports, though.)

You’re absolutely right about the ‘ideal’ approach to ownership. The problem is making that approach mesh with the late 20th century, and all of the evidence that trouble-free operation is possible. To put it in other terms: is it reasonable to expect that a $20,000 vehicle -- one that’s had the benefit of *years* of development and fine-tuning -- will work properly and not fall apart. For many years Detroit’s answer to that question was "don’t be silly, of course not." Then someone else chimed in and said "wait a minute, ours will" and all of a sudden the ground was thick with Toyotas and Datsuns. Detroit eventually decided that building crap wasn’t to its best advantage, but they’ll never regain the lost market share. Obviously, this scenario won’t translate to the motorcycle business, because Harley has virtually no competition. Other companies build motorcycles, but only The Motor Company builds Harley-Davidsons. And since a significant number of the new bikes don’t rack up serious mileage, their owners are happy as can be and Harley doesn’t get sufficient feedback about problems to decide that they are endemic. Problems that are considered anomalous will be fixed with band aids, when what’s really needed is a back-to-the-drawing-board solution that will prevent similar failures in the future. This leaves those of us who want to travel 10K+ per year in the position of coping -- one way or the other --with problems that shouldn’t occur.

Frankly, there doesn’t seem to be a viable solution, at least for those of us who have neither the skills or the inclination to "be one with our machines." You ask whether I’m willing to take off for Sturgis with a dribbling base gasket. Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m qualified to decide whether _other_ drips aren’t impending disasters. I found out about the main drive pulley failure because I saw oil where it didn’t used to be, rode to the dealer, and said "what does this mean?" I found out about the case problem at the 20K service, when the dealer told me about it. There were no warnings. What to do, what to do?

Dammit Dan, you’re making me think!

D

Epilogue
Three weeks ago I initiated the Wing/HD Re-redux thread, and recounted my irrational urge abandon perfection and, so to speak, return to the fold. I invited comment, and was rewarded by several thought-provoking replies from the (alas, thinning) ranks of this forum.

Having asked for your guidance on my trek to the proverbial mountaintop, I feel obliged to describe the enlightenment that awaited me upon ascending to the peak. (Let me add that I feel no guilt about "wasting bandwidth." This is a subject that comes up with appalling regularity on the Internet digest devoted to BMW automobiles. What a bunch of tight-asses *that* group is!)

As be expected at the end of such a climb, even one of a metaphoric nature, the altitude left me feeling somewhat lightheaded and -- a telling word, perhaps -- disoriented. Assuming the lotus position, for me an impossibility *except* in metaphor, I pondered the man/machine relationship; I replayed some of the experiences that led to my... my defection; and I questioned the verisimilitude of various statements I made on both subjects. Then, entering a dreamlike state that was familiar only because I attended college in the late sixties, I found myself reliving some of the positive experiences astride the Ultra:

The 90th Reunion in 1993, when they closed the Interstate highway so a miles-long river of Harleys could flow into Milwaukee under the eyes of a cheering throng of well-wishers.
    The mountains of New Hampshire, experienced for the first time on two wheels during the 1994 Northeast HOG Rally.
    The "Key West by Dinnertime" ride during Bike Week in 1995, which commenced at our Altoona campground a scant 30 minutes after the bikes were unloaded from the trailer -- after a non-stop 1200 mile drive from New York.
    Last June’s drenching, scorching trip to the Furthur Festival in Atlanta -- just a mile from the sun -- and home again.
    And the innumerable trips to nowhere -- those that exemplified the notion that the ride *is* the destination.

And it was while remembering some of those aimless rides that I had my secular epiphany: not once during my ownership of the Gold Wing had I taken it out of the garage just for the sake of going for a ride. None of the 6,000 miles racked up during the bike’s ten weeks of pre-winter "active duty" were ridden solely for the pleasure of the ride.

Granted, once on the bike, I certainly enjoyed riding it; and I appreciated the astonishing level of refinement Honda had achieved. But returning to the "transportation appliance" analogy, I realized that my attitude towards the Gold Wing was similar to the way I treated my refrigerator, my air conditioner, and my fax machine. I expect these appliances to do their job flawlessly when I need them, and I don’t give them a moment’s thought when I don’t.

I then recalled my statement about being unwilling to endure a love/hate relationship with a motorcycle. At the time, I clearly didn’t realize that the alternative was a lack of passion in either direction. The Gold Wing’s lack of flaws precluded any hatred on my part; but the inherent goodness of the bike -- and heaven knows, it’s got plenty -- inspired nothing more than respect and admiration. I wanted more.

Feeling that my time on the mountaintop had been well-spent, I began my descent, and continued downwards until I had gone as low as possible: I went to New Jersey. There, I paid a visit to the dealer with whom I had placed the Harley on consignment. It had been cleaned and polished, and it gleamed as only a black-and-chrome Harley can gleam. It called to me, and I answered by retrieving the title, arranging for insurance coverage, and placing the Gold Wing up for sale.

Some practical considerations influenced this decision. For one thing, my dealer’s service department seems to have climbed back from the depths that resulted in my initial disaffection, and the service manager with whom I had established a relationship has returned. But the bottom line is this: if owning a bike that I want to ride purely for the pleasure of it requires entering into a love/hate relationship... well then, so be it. I can’t deny that a good case may be made for the philosophy "life’s too short for self-imposed hassles." But in this instance a better one can be made for "life’s too short for mediocrity -- no matter how perfect it is."

The issue of what to do when the '98 Anniversary Edition Ultra I’ve got on order arrives is yet to be resolved. I’ll save my pennies and see what happens, but that’s another story.