Cool Bikes In New York City: Indian Larry Memorial 2006

Nevada Backroads Ruined My Belt

rear sprocket pac man damage miles and miles of gravel Drank too many of those 32 ounce beers last night. Got back on the Loneliest Road and went east through Ely, where we found Utah route 21, which seemed even lonelier. It's narrower, hotter, and has a lot less traffic. Lonelier. Almost scary. Gravelly. A good place to pick up a stone and break a drive belt. When we crossed into Utah, we set the clock forward to Mountain Time, and got on I 15 southbound to Hurricane, UT, where the temp. was a searing 98 degrees. This was quite a change from the 48 degrees when we left Eureka, NV. We couldn't find a restaurant near the hotel that served beer (Mormons!), so we opted for Subway sandwiches and a six pack in the room. Took the Road Glide through a nearby car wash and removed just some of the over 4500 miles of bugs and grime. Pack Man Cracks: that’s the official designation in the Harley Davidson Service Manual, and I discovered it after returning from a cross country bla

519 to Buttzville

519 is a road, mostly smooth, curvy, two lane blacktop. At the New York state line, I followed her down. It’s cow country, sheep; 20 mile per hour turns that sneak right up, a narrow tunnel, and there’s Vernon, and Hope. All the way to Buttzville; so named because, at one time, it was the butt watching capital of America. Butts reigned supreme. Not so much anymore. But there was a nicely packed butt in skin tight camo, right in Hot Dog Johnny’s. So I ate lunch: two dogs, mustard, pickles, and kraut with a big cup of buttermilk. That’s the special. And I gassed up and headed north on 519, all the way to the state line, with a song in my head, from Bob Seger: She's totally committed, to major independence But she's a lady through and through She gives them quite a battle, all that they can handle She'll bruise some, she'll hurt some too But oh, they love to watch her strut…Bob Seger

Route 32 Walt's Speedometer

It was late afternoon in Albany, NY. I was riding the four speed Evo; Levi had his Sporty; both Mike and Walt were riding clean Shovels. The plan was this: we were gonna run south down route 32, make a few miles, then maybe stop at some juke joint or tavern, but closer to home. Once we got out of the city, the road opened up, and the throttle hands got looser. We were doing maybe 60 mph, in a tight pack of four, and we'd roll up behind some sedan doing 55, and most times, with plenty of room to pass, we'd give 'em a little gas, and just blast right on by. But each time we did that, we'd gain a little speed, and pretty soon we were kind of hammering down the highway, maybe 70 or 75. And I could see in my mirror, Walt was dropping back. He'll catch up, I'm thinkin', he's probably just not used to that kind of riding. So anyway, I'm watching Walt in the mirror, and he's back there maybe 50 yards…then I look again, he's still with us, but maybe

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