The rain showers passed through the night, and this morning the sun came up behind the red cliffs in a turquoise sky. As I wheeled my bike out the door for the day's run, I had to stop and take a deep breath - several deep breaths. This harsh dry desert smells deliciously fresh and spicy after a rain. I wanted to take it all in and keep it.I rode out nice and early, taking a rough back road toward Laughlin. My first objective, though, was Union Pass on AZ68, to check out the truck traffic.
By 10 a.m. the sun was hot, but the air was still cool and clear as spring water. I rode 22 miles on 68, and saw fewer trucks than was normal pre-9-11. I guess the trucker's grapevine had tipped them off that the Laughlin bridge bottleneck would be near gridlock for the next few days. Great!
People were out riding all over - some solo, or with a partner, but most in groups, out cruising. Even so, traffic was "light". This is big country, and there's plenty of room.
At 11, I got across the bridge into Nevada without hassle. I don't frequent Laughlin, so I cruised south on Casino Drive to refresh the layout. Thousands of other riders were out doing the same thing, just riding along, enjoying the weather and seeing the sights. The River Run action is all along the strip.
The Riverside Resort was my first stop. This seemed to be Official Harley Headquarters. The H-D Traveling Museum trailer is parked there, next to the Harley demo ride area.
The museum is cool, a quick walk-through worth checking out. The walking aisle has continuous glass cases on both sides, containing several beautifully restored antique bikes, and old-fashioned riding gear preserved from yesteryear. I wished there was room to sit down, smoke a cigar, and contemplate. Looking at those old bikes, and traveling coats, and goggles, I could feel the kinship with those early riders all the way from now til then.
Back outside, I strolled around to the demo area, looking for - guess what? No, not the Blast - the Firebolt! But all I could see were Harleys - groups of V-Rods, and Big Twins, and Sportsters. Then I spotted a lone Blast, banished amongst the Sportsters. And among the seven V-Rods, a Firebolt! And all I needed to ride it was a motorcycle license!
I was prepared to stand on line in the hot sun, but their set-up is far better than that. It was noon. They told me I could ride at 3:15. "Alright!! See you then!" I was free and grinnin'.
South of the H-D establishment, a vendor's village of tents and trailers covers about 2 acres of the Riverside parking lot - Corbin, Performance Machine, various custom bike builders, and the usual T-shirt and trinket crowd. I did a quick scout on foot, saw a lot of beautiful women, with big mean-lookin' dudes I didn't particularly notice.
Kid's chopper - $1500. You supply the engine - Now figure the price!But the blues were calling me. I had to check out the free outdoor blues concerts at the Colorado Belle. So I walked back to my bike, kicked it over, and rode on down there.
Man I loved it. It broke my heart. I guess I've been hearing too much cornball country music for too long. I suddenly had an overwhelming desire to buy a set of exotic hand-made silver and turquoise ear-rings for a delightfully lovely young lady selling leathers out of the old firehouse in Oatman. But I couldn't remember if her ears are pierced, or not - so of course I immediately rode for Oatman to find this out. But - we'll get to Oatman later.
The Firebolt
By riding hell fer leather back and forth over that rough back road, I made it up to Oatman, and back to Laughlin, in time for the demo ride - with a big happy grin on my face.
I got back to the Riverside, and presented my paperwork to the pretty gal gating the V-Rod/Firebolt group. I was early - of course - but they had chairs and tables set up under a shade awning for people waiting. How sensible! How civilized! A bunch of us waiting riders sat there in ease and comfort, looking at chicks and talking about motorcycles.
Not only that, but at 3:20 I was standing next to the demo Firebolt and buckling on a full-face helmet.
I saw people getting off the V-Rods with ear-to-ear grins. Those rides had been booked solid, early. But I really only had eyes for my ride.
Looking down at her, she was absolutely voluptuous, like a pin-up girl, hot, happy, waiting. The wide tank curves in and narrows toward the seat; the saddle widens behind the rider's legs. A natural mate. One that deserves total respect.
I took the grips and swung a leg over, with both feet on the ground. The bars are low. You can't just sit there like an oaf. You lean forward, get close, and you know something's going to happen right now.
The controls are familiar to me, similar to the Blast. I turned the key, and touched the starter, and she started to tingle and moan.
The V-Rods were rumbling. The ride leader was on one. The tail rider rode behind the group on a Buell Thunderbolt. This is supposed to prevent monkey business.
But where there's a will there's a way. We started moving. I picked my feet up, but the pegs are higher than I thought. Aboard and leaning forward close over the bike, I understood - the riding position on this motorcycle is an intimate embrace, and it's happening right now.
The group peeled out of the lot and turned on to Casino Drive. We turned left out of traffic on to an open road up hill. I quickly realized that if I lagged, I had a reason to goose the throttle and accelerate. We started having some fun immediately, yes!
We got a good ride - back streets to NV163, up the highway at speed, to turn off on a winding road that led us over Davis Dam, and then back over the same route again.
The clutch has an easy pull. The transmission is stout, but shifts cleanly in every gear at low or high revs, with a solid detente engagement instead of that clumsy Sportster "clunk". Riding in a group, I kept two fingers on the front brake, and two fingers was all I needed. Engine braking is smooth and adequate - I only put my foot to the brake pedal twice on the ride.
I motored along at around 3500 rpm. When I wanted to accelerate, downshifting and rolling the throttle gave me a surge of power. Rolling the throttle at 5 grand in third made her look up. I must say I had to wind it at times to keep up with those V-Rods. How fast I went - I didn't get it up to 100. At those brief moments of speed I laid down on the tank, behind the fairing. The tank supported me like it was made for me, and the fairing kept the wind off my helmet.
On this easy ride, the steering was precise, neutral, stable. I would like to dance her hard to see what she does, though. Steering lock in parking situations was a bit limited. The suspension was taut and tough - none of that cushy, wallowing compromise. But again, this ride was too easy to tell the limits. I think we need another date - a long one.
The Evening
There's a "Leather and Lace" party at the Golden Nugget at 6 p.m. Grand Funk Railroad is in concert at the Flamingo at 9.
And just when you think you're sick of looking at Harleys:
Yep, it's a Harley Sprint.
joe@gazette9.com
