Seven days have come and gone since I bought my Honda ST1300. I put 578 miles on it thus far.
My friend Tom asked me today what I thought about it.
"It feels like me", I said.
I guess what I meant is that I feel like this bike better represents the person I am inside compared to the Harley-Davidson Ultra Classic.
In 2004, I bought the Yamaha Road Star. But actually, I had wanted the Harley-Davidson Road King. At the time, I was enamored with the styling of classic American motorcycles. But there was a frugal side of me that said the Yamaha Road Star has similar stylings, costs much less, and gives you more power. Hence, the Road Star reflected the person I was.
And I spent a good deal of money buying chrome pieces and accessories to cultivate that classic American look.
The Harley-Davidson Ultra Classic, however, never really reflected how I felt inside. It was my wife who really liked it. She loved the feel of the back seat, and liked the lower foot position of the passenger floorboards. She also loved the spacious storage for all her things.
So when she suggested I should buy an Ultra, how could I resist having a second motorcycle? And over time, I grew to love riding it, and for awhile it was the bike I rode all the time.
But when I bought it, I vowed that I would not spend any money buying chrome, or anything cosmetic. I already spent too much money customizing the Road Star. Instead, I would only purchase accessories that had to do with performance or comfort. That vow changed my entire way of thinking.
I now took on this philosophy that "chrome doesn't get you home". That is, you buy a motorcycle to ride, not to show off, or use as a chick-magnet, or enhance your personal appearance.
Moreover, the Ultra is a touring motorcycle, made for taking long rides, overnighters, and road trips. And so I rode that motorcycle, and just rode it everywhere. I put 70,000 miles on it in 3 1/2 years, along with the 45,000 miles I put on the Road Star.
My opinion progressed further to where I preached the concept that motorcycles should be ridden, and so let's take our bikes out and ride all day long. Let's ride through the canyons and over the mountains, and up and down twisties. Let's ride them hard and fast, and push them to their limits. I told people that scratches and dings are badges of honor, and that if your bike is shiny and clean then you've only wasted time.
My philosophy changed from wanting a cool-looking Americanesque cruiser, to wanting to ride roads at a comprehensive level. Therefore I demanded a motorcycle to match.
When I bought the Road Star in 2004, I never thought I'd end up with a sport tourer in 2010. If you own a Harley right now, can you be certain of what bike you'll be purchasing in five years?
My friend Tom asked me today what I thought about it.
"It feels like me", I said.
I guess what I meant is that I feel like this bike better represents the person I am inside compared to the Harley-Davidson Ultra Classic.
In 2004, I bought the Yamaha Road Star. But actually, I had wanted the Harley-Davidson Road King. At the time, I was enamored with the styling of classic American motorcycles. But there was a frugal side of me that said the Yamaha Road Star has similar stylings, costs much less, and gives you more power. Hence, the Road Star reflected the person I was.
And I spent a good deal of money buying chrome pieces and accessories to cultivate that classic American look.
The Harley-Davidson Ultra Classic, however, never really reflected how I felt inside. It was my wife who really liked it. She loved the feel of the back seat, and liked the lower foot position of the passenger floorboards. She also loved the spacious storage for all her things.
So when she suggested I should buy an Ultra, how could I resist having a second motorcycle? And over time, I grew to love riding it, and for awhile it was the bike I rode all the time.
But when I bought it, I vowed that I would not spend any money buying chrome, or anything cosmetic. I already spent too much money customizing the Road Star. Instead, I would only purchase accessories that had to do with performance or comfort. That vow changed my entire way of thinking.
I now took on this philosophy that "chrome doesn't get you home". That is, you buy a motorcycle to ride, not to show off, or use as a chick-magnet, or enhance your personal appearance.
Moreover, the Ultra is a touring motorcycle, made for taking long rides, overnighters, and road trips. And so I rode that motorcycle, and just rode it everywhere. I put 70,000 miles on it in 3 1/2 years, along with the 45,000 miles I put on the Road Star.
My opinion progressed further to where I preached the concept that motorcycles should be ridden, and so let's take our bikes out and ride all day long. Let's ride through the canyons and over the mountains, and up and down twisties. Let's ride them hard and fast, and push them to their limits. I told people that scratches and dings are badges of honor, and that if your bike is shiny and clean then you've only wasted time.
My philosophy changed from wanting a cool-looking Americanesque cruiser, to wanting to ride roads at a comprehensive level. Therefore I demanded a motorcycle to match.
When I bought the Road Star in 2004, I never thought I'd end up with a sport tourer in 2010. If you own a Harley right now, can you be certain of what bike you'll be purchasing in five years?