I guess it was 2003 or '04, and Boehm asked me to write a short 'First Ride' review of a bike H-D'd loaned us. It was some cruiser that was powered by the largest-displacement motor they'd ever built at the time, and to give it a long, low, lean & mean look it had been accessorized with a really thin seat.
|This bike gives the trademark 'Softail' a whole new meaning.|
Where was I? You think I'm kidding, but I'm not. I'm telling you a true story.
The motor, like all Harleys, had a serious primary imbalance. But since it was overbored (and stroked, too, if I recall) that imbalance was more pronounced than ever. Those vibes were hardly attenuated at all by the thin seat.
The thing is, there was a certain frequency -- right where you'd naturally want to hold the revs while cruising for hookers -- where the vibrations did something to the lower part of my GI tract. Like, I felt something weird going on down there.
I suddenly knew that I was going to poo. It wasn't the pooing part of that thought that was weird; it was the sudden part. And when I tried to, uh, clench, I couldn't; my sphincter had gone numb. Having spent my life on sport bikes where, if there was a seat problem I just transferred weight to the foot pegs, that was my first response, but the foot pegs on the hog were way out front, to give it that La-Z-Boy riding position. There was nowhere to put my weight but on the seat. A few seconds later, I literally thought, If I don't shift gears right now, I'm going to lose control of my bowels.
I mean, I'm not saying customers should've sued over it, but if you'd made me ride it any distance, I'd'a had a whole different appreciation for those ridiculous assless chaps Harley riders wear. And I suppose those vibes might explain why, despite bikers' b.o. and scratchy beards, they always seem to find women who'll ride pillion.