Saturday, April 24, 2010
It's nothing personal. I'm sure there are some really nice Shovelheads out there. I have friends who ride Shovelheads.
The first time I was a full time biker chick was in the early eighties. I was married twice back then, both times to guys who rode rigid frame Panheads with suicide clutches and jockey shifts. In fact, I learned the fine art of riding one of those babies on a dirt logging road (our driveway) when I was about 5 or 6 months pregnant, just in case. It was the only transportation we had. I love Panheads.
Most of the people I knew back then rode Panheads. There were a few that owned the "late models", and we built some at the shop, but none ever stuck around. We had a particularly tough customer that had commissioned a Shovelhead. Well, he wasn't so tough; it was his girlfriend. He was paying for a running motorcycle. She wanted a show bike. I was pretty torqued by the fact that this witch was getting away with making all these demands, and when I saw her at a swap meet, I started a fight with her. I got my ass kicked. Big time. I suppose that getting beaten to a pulp over a Shovelhead hasn't improved my feelings for that engine.
Time passes. I go to bike shows and see Shovelheads in the antique categories. Huh? If it were up to me, I wouldn't even consider a vote for a Shovel as an antique. I don't care what the qualifications are. Good thing it's not up to me; I'm prejudiced.
Then along comes Joe8 with his Shovelhead that's been ridden hard and put up wet. I adore Joe8. He loves his motorcycle. It's kind of like a stepchild I'm not that crazy about. I understand, appreciate, and respect his unconditional love, but I'm not feeling it. And now Joe8 is pursuing an opportunity on the other side of the country, and that Shovelhead is going to be taking him there.
I hate Shovelheads.