Form over Function It started out very well. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the city was coming alive with ordinary people everywhere rushing about doing their mundane thing. I uncovered the tarp off of my creation, and took a step back in order to visually absorb all my work. It was time to experience the bikers' anthem "Born to be Wild". So I wheeled the bike down the laneway to the street, and set it on its side stand. Due its longer front end, the bike had a radical lean to it further enhancing its new tougher image. I straddled the bike, swung out the kicker, and with a jump I brought down all my weight on the pedal. Twice more, and the engine growled to life. Oh what a symphony! Blipping the throttle occasionally, I fastened my helmet and slipped on my gloves. With a bit of effort, I righted the top-heavy chopper and put it in gear. Look out world ‘cause here I come. And it was everything that I had hoped for. The sound, the feel, and the power – it was all like I had imagined. I was sure all were in awe as I rumbled by, envious of both man (I hadn't shaved that day) and machine. I was a little nervous at first navigating the city roads as I was unsure how much of an effect the longer front end would have on maneuverability. But it didn't take long to realize that it was indeed minimal. Soon I was flicking the bike between traffic just like when it was stock. So what was with all this controversy regarding chopper safety? I was in seventh heaven and a slogan I had read somewhere kept flashing over and over through my mind: Bikers are better than people. Without a doubt, I thought, without a doubt. Then I turned onto King St and headed for downtown Toronto. And everything changed. King St. has always been a favorite road of mine. It had fewer businesses on it and therefore was far less congested than other nearby routes to the centre core. Although it could not ever be mistaken for a drag strip, I had managed a couple of times to exceed 70 mph between the lights over the years I lived in Toronto. King St. also boasts electric powered streetcars running on steel tracks. Sections of brick paving can also be found surrounding these tracks. The rails are always a concern for traffic, and bikes in particular, but the bricked sections are very hard on vehicle suspensions. The also tend to be
As I entered a brick section, the lack of rear suspension became all too evident. The bike bucked up and down like a bronco throwing me briefly up into the air only to slam me hard back down on to the seat, and it did this over and over again. It was like riding a jackhammer. I had to hang on to the bars with grim determination just to stay with the bike. The Harley guys had fat sixteen inch rear tires running at low pressures to provide some relief, but I did not. I absolutely did not enjoy the experience one bit. Before the day ended, I had the original shocks back on. Go on and say it. What a wimp! Over the next few weeks, I also tossed the cobra seat. It was harder than rock and quite uncomfortable. I don't subscribe to the theory that to be a real biker you have to suffer when riding. Although I don't expect or want my bike to cuddle me like a caddy would, I did expect to arrive at my destination without feeling abused. And I definitely expected all my internal organs to remain in their proper location. Once these concerns were addressed, I can truthfully say that riding a chopper, even one as mild as mine was, was a great experience. Given the opportunity, I wouldn't hesitate to do it again, even given the many thrills I experienced.
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