The Harley Chronicles

Prelude

Following my little epiphany back in August (see The Eagle Has Landed), I began seriously kicking around the idea of adding a Road King to my stable. Over the next couple of weeks I stopped by Patriot H-D in Fairfax several times (where I quickly fell in love with the Pearl White color). And on a visit to Morton’s BMW for parts, I made a detour on the way back to stop at Waugh’s.

Waugh’s deserves special mention: I first stopped there back in 1993, on a quiet weekday, having - like this time – detoured there on my way home from Morton’s. I was riding my BMW K1100RS, a bike and a marque I was both new to and quite smitten with (I still am). Anyway, this was back when most Harley riders would hardly acknowledge a rider on another brand. And so while I certainly didn’t anticipate any blatant hostility, I likewise didn’t expect any great friendliness either.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

“How are you doing, young man?”, was the first thing I heard when I walked in the door. I looked over to see a kindly gentleman gazing at me from behind a desk, smoking a pipe. Turns out he was Don ‘Hoss’ Waugh, the owner.

Everyone at the dealership was exceptionally friendly. Walking around a showroom built for comfort as much as for sales – it was the first motorcycle dealership I’d ever seen that had sofas and easy chairs - I was struck by the obvious effort to make the whole environment welcoming. A place a rider would feel good just hanging out at.

The place smelled of good tobacco, blue smoke wafting from that pipe of Mr. Waugh. And there was no brand bias. Just a simple question posed by Mr. Waugh at one point during our conversation, “why don’t you ride a Harley?”

Other than a comment about my liking to ride pretty hard, I didn’t really have a good answer. It was an honest question. But one I was uninterested in dissecting just right then.

I didn’t leave the dealership that day wanting a Harley. But I certainly left feeling like it was a friendly – and interesting – place to visit. And in the intervening years I’d usually stop by there once or twice every riding season, just to see what was going on.

So now, with a desire to finally explore that question Mr. Waugh had posed those many years ago, it was only natural I’d stop by the one Harley shop I had kind of sort of stayed in touch with.

From the internet I quickly gleaned the latest scoop on the machines themselves. The addition of Brembo brakes and optional ABS quickly sold me on a 2008 model. I really liked that Pearl White – a fact which was cemented on one of my regular Sunday rides when an old fellow piloting an equally old shovelhead dresser cruised past me, looking really fine with its white paint. The new security system, which obviated the need to fumble with a key – just make sure the fob is in your pocket – sounded really cool. And even though I avoid interstates like the plague, I’ve always wanted an electronic cruise control for those odd occasions when I’m compelled to use them.

So I knew exactly what kind of bike I’d get, should I pull the trigger on this.

Choosing a dealer was the next step. Notwithstanding my fondness for Waugh’s, they’re not exactly convenient – forty-five miles and forty-five minutes in a direction I rarely go.

Whitt’s in Manassas was the closest. About twenty-five minutes from my home in Warrenton. But, like Waugh’s, they’re in a part of Manassas I rarely head into.

Patriot, smack dab in the middle of Fairfax, was easily the most convenient. I drive near there every day going to and from work. And most weekends finds me in and around Fairfax for one reason or another. And I liked the dealership. It had a nice layout inside. And a nice parking area. I could easily envision myself hanging out there.

Alas, the two or three Saturdays I stopped by there I couldn’t get the attention of anyone except the girls working the counter, the ones that smiled and said “hi” when you walked in the door.

Ok, not such a good vibe. One shouldn’t have to work this hard to drop that much dough. Scratch Patriot.

Whitt’s or Waugh’s?

Beyond being much closer, and in a better direction, Whitt’s had the advantage of longer hours. And I had met Chris Taylor, their general manager, a few years back when he worked as the manager at Whitt’s Suzuki and sold me my gixxer; and then later when they repaired that bike after one of my racetrack crashes. Chris is a good guy.

In the end, it was really a toss-up. I felt good about both dealerships. I would have been happy to buy from either.

There was one last problem: In the 32 years and several hundred thousand miles I’ve been riding motorcycles… I’d never been on a Harley. Not once. And the prospect of spending that much money on a bike that is so different from everything I’ve ever experienced seemed, well, just a little out there. Especially given my strong predilection for riding rather aggressively. So I knew I needed to ride one first.

Whitt’s didn’t have a Road King demo, but they did offer to let me test ride one of their used bikes. Only thing there was I doubted they would be willing to let me do any sort of extended ride. And I figured the low-speed, round-the-block test rides that are common to most dealerships wouldn’t begin to help me understand what this kind of bike was like.

So I rented one.

On a beautiful morning in mid-September I rode my R1200GS up to Frederick H-D, the nearest dealer that did rentals, and checked out a 2007 Road King. For four hours I rode the gentle, rolling roads south of Frederick, down towards Poolesville and around Point of Rocks.

And it was very different. Not even close to any other bike I’d ever been on. The cognitive dissonance I felt upon first climbing aboard was significant. Most of that had to do with the striking feet-forward position on the Harley. Even my BMW GS, itself considered to have more-or-less standard, sit-up-straight ergonomics, seemed positively crotch-rocket-sporting compared to the very relaxed posture on the Road King.

But it’s a feeling you quickly get used to. And once you do, the big bike seems to just float down the road. Beyond the obvious comfort, though, there was something else there – a hint of hardness that emanated from the motor.

I stopped twice during that ride. First at a McDonalds to grab a quick breakfast; and then later at a country store in Point of Rocks. And I have to confess… there was a definite feeling of – I’m not exactly sure how to describe this – respect is the closest I can come, that seemed attached to the bike. Somehow you just knew that people responded to it differently than to other bikes. And I almost hate to say it – but I liked that.

During the few hours I was out the question I kept asking myself was “can you imagine yourself on this bike… all the time”? By the time I got back to the dealership to return their bike, the answer was an unequivocal yes.

I climbed back aboard my R1200GS – which felt incredibly small (“spindly” was the word that came to mind) after those handful of hours on the big Harley - and all the way home I kept thinking about that Road King. I still hadn’t decided to pull the trigger, but I was close.

A couple days later I stopped back by Whitt’s. It now being September, I didn’t know that I wanted to buy a bike that would not be ready soon. I’ve never bought a bike in the winter and I wasn’t sure I wanted to do that now. I ride my bikes all year but there is usually a period of 4-6 weeks in the January to early March timeframe where I’m in lockdown because of snow/ice on my driveway and/or salt residue out on the roads. The notion of having a new bike that I couldn’t ride certainly didn’t sound very enticing. So an early delivery – assuming I did this – was very much on my mind.

Alas, that was not to be. PJ, the wonderful sales gal at Whitt’s, shook her head and explained that they had no idea what kind of allotment of bikes they would be getting over the next several quarters. The best they could do was take down the specs I wanted and keep an eye out for a bike that matched. I quickly realized the indeterminate nature of how this could go. Months could go by and I still might not have the bike. I was not at all inclined to green-light something that opaque. I walked out still debating whether I should do this.

The next Saturday I was down at Waugh’s. The factory demo fleet was there and I hoped to snag a ride on a 2008 model. Walking along the line of demo bikes outside it was quickly clear that wasn’t to be. Half the demo bikes were 105-year anniversary models with 103” motors. Nice as those bikes were, I wasn’t interested in riding anything other than the bike I was contemplating buying. And they didn’t have a regular old Road King.

A bit disappointed, I walked inside the dealership. There I met Jon Deavers, their sales manager. Jon is a very friendly, easy going guy – the antithesis of the stereotypical pressure-pitch sales person. And within five minutes he calmly said “sure, we can do that”, to my inquiry about getting the exact-spec’d bike I wanted. He explained that they could re-option one of their yet-to-be-built touring bikes. It would probably be a December build date – something he would not be able to confirm until the following Monday, when the Motor Company’s computer would be back online; and it would require a deposit. But it shouldn’t be a problem.

Did I want to do that?

The question hung in the air for several seconds as my mind spun through all the puts and takes of this thing I had been toying with for all these weeks.

I looked from Jon to the rows of gleaming machines lined up behind us – a glance that saw suddenly the uncoiling of time and the threads running through it, the grand procession of chance and circumstance.

“Yeah. Let’s do it.”