Yeah, I’m not really sure who they’re trying to sell to, either. I imagine at least one member of the marketing team for Victory Motorcycles has a mullet, and that all of them can sing Bob Seger or Bachman Turner Overdrive tunes from memory.
Driverless cars, y’all. That is the future. Indeed, to a certain extent the future is now.
After a long conversation with myself I started dwelling at the bottom end of the classified ads, looking at what is (and isn’t) available. Doing so has introduced me to a world of sport bikes from the late 80s/early 90s, and adverts so badly spelled as to be almost indecipherable.
I feel I’m stuck at the bottom of a pretty high wall here and I can’t figure a way over it, which is frustrating, to say the least. I worry about skills loss, and thereafter a loss in confidence and willingness to get on a bike. I am afraid of slipping into whatever it was that prevented me from riding after I got my U.S. license at age 18.
It doesn’t really make me feel much better, but I suppose it’s worth pointing out that I’m not the only one. The United Kingdom’s ridiculously expensive and arduous licensing process creates problems for thousands upon thousands of other people. To the extent some have clearly decided it’s not worth it, which at best is a shame and at worst is an incentive for illegal behaviour.
I found myself riding along singing “Have Love Will Travel,” by the Black Keys, at the top of my lungs. I was in the middle of an exam, y’all, and I was singing. I got into it so much that I was actually bobbing my head whilst sitting at a traffic light.
My pace has not always matched those of others. This is one of the reasons I struggled in school. I’d miss an assignment, or not complete one in time, then another would pop up. And another and another. I’d slip further and further behind, get frustrated and think: “Forget it. I’ll talk to girls instead.” But when I get the handle of things, I do them well.
Let’s be honest: you would, wouldn’t you? No, stop lying. You totally would. Yes, yes you would. Look, it’s just you and I in this conversation and no one else will ever know. So you can be honest. Deep down inside, you totally would. If the opportunity presented itself, you would ride a Harley and you would love it.
It’s nowhere near as sexy as a Bonneville or Speedmaster. That’s true. It’s unlikely to be the sort of machine that would result in having to fight off the ladies. But still, it has something. A kind of geek cool, perhaps? The sexiness of efficiency and reliability. Whatever the case, the NC700X still manages to tick that all-important box of putting a big grin on my face.
When I say that I was ready to give up, perhaps it would be more accurate to say I wanted to be ready to give up. I wanted to be able to. I wanted to be able to say to myself: “You know what? Forget this. Do something else; clearly this is not making you happy and you are not suited to it. Move on.”
