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Herd Mentality Chapter Two
HERD joins the Heard
by Richard Rothschild (Gold Wing rider writing for the GL1800 forum, similar to the GSResources)
“What a great day to try out my new bike”, thought Herd, as he stretched and gazed out the window of his bedroom. He showered, brushed and eagerly rummaged through his newfound treasures purchased a few days earlier. “How does this look, Honey?” he asked as he modeled his leather vest and T-shirt in front of the full length mirror. He applied his dark glasses and admired his rugged facade as he posed in the mirror. His wife approached him and asked with a puzzled look on her face, “Herd, what’s the purpose of the leather vest?” Herd responded with authority, “Honey, I have to wear leather because it protects me in case somebody cuts me off and I have to lay the bike down.”
Confused, she continued, “But how can a leather vest protect you when it has no sleeves to cover your arms, and why would you lay the bike down. Wouldn’t it be better to keep it up and try to use your brakes to stop?”
Herd hesitated, pondering her naivet?. Hmmm. “Honey, everybody wears leather vests, and everybody knows that you lay the bike down in an emergency”. Besides, why would they sell so many if they weren’t important? She was silent for a moment and retorted, “Oh, I thought they wore vests to show off their tattoos.” He headed for the door. Perplexed. He pondered again, and thought to himself, “All the guys wear leather vests and talk about laying the bike down”. He dismissed his confusion as unfounded and proceeded toward the garage.
In the garage, Herd mounted his new 2003 Sportster... 1200cc of metal, chrome, and muscle. It was a beautiful machine. He turned the key, and pressed the starter button. The engine cranked reluctantly 2 or 3 revolutions and fired-up. He revved it two or three times and delighted in the powerful sound, and thought to himself, “Man, I can’t wait till I get a chance blow somebody away.” The engine settled down into the comfortable potato-potato-potato cadence that was music to his ears. “Man”, he thought, “Now this is what it’s all about.”
Herd righted the bike; raised its kickstand; pointed the sleek machine toward the street, eased-out the clutch and paddled down his driveway. Twenty feet before the street, he applied the front brake, continuing to paddle, keeping the beast upright. “Man, there’s nothing to this, it’s easy!”
Herd looked left-right-left, released the front brake lever and paddled the bike the last two or three feet down the driveway apron onto the street as he simultaneously released the clutch and twisted the throttle. The dream was now a reality. He ratcheted-up the throttle while humming Steppenwolf to himself as he headed for his rendezvous point to meet his buddy.
Six blocks into his journey, Herd encountered his first red light. He pulled in the clutch and the front brake lever as he again lowered both feet in preparation for his stop. Left-foot right-foot left-foot right-foot, paddle, paddle, … stop. Nothing to it. Herd glanced to his left and noticed a minivan with a middle age woman and her teenage daughter. Herd blipped the throttle two or three times for the benefit of his audience but deliberately avoided eye contact so as to appear nonchalant and cool. Veeeeeeeeerrrry cool...
Ten minutes of cruising and Herd arrived at Tooey’s Bar and Grill. There were about a dozen Harley’s and two strange looking bikes that looked like spaceships. Herd paddled his way into the parking lot and dismounted. He glanced admiringly at his Sporster and all of the other beautiful Harleys. As he walked down the row he approached the stranger looking bikes. He remembered they were Gold Wings. He studied them for a second, awed by the huge passenger seat, electronic buttons, and sheer bulk. He glanced at the miniscule passenger pillion on his Sporster; glanced back at the GoldWing, and humored himself, “Hmmm.. maybe that’s why they wear shirts about bitches falling off.” Dismissing his own jocularity, he proceeded into Tooey’s.
As he entered the bar, he was approached by his friend “Roadkill”. Roadkill introduced him to the others… eleven guys and three girls. They welcomed him to the table. . It was 11 AM and the guys were having an early brew to loosen up before hitting the road. Herd learned that 12 of the 14 belonged to the local HOG chapter; the other two owned the GL1800’s and were friends with one of the HOG members from work.
Finishing up, they headed for the parking lot. The ride leader owned a Road King, and was approached by the Gold Wing owners. “Are we going to have a pre-ride meeting before heading out”?
“Why do you need a pre-ride meeting?”, he asked.
“Well just to understand how we are going to handle details like getting separated, or ride formation, red lights… that kind of stuff.”
“It’s simple”, replied the ride leader, “You just follow the bike in front of you, and if you get separated, just meet at the Steel Dog Saloon at 11:45 AM.
“Okay, but what CB channel will you be monitoring?”, asked the Goldwing owner.
The ride leader ignored his question, shouting, “All right everybody, let’s get going. Does everbody have gas?”
“Sh!t. I knew I forgot something”, thought Herd. “I need gas I’m almost empty.”
He immediately headed to the BP cross the street and filled his tank. “Wow… it only took 1.9 gallons to fill this baby and it was almost empty. This is great!”
Across the street the formation pulled onto the access road. Herd peddled; pulled out; and the last rider signaled for Herd to enter the formation in front of him. It was a beautiful thing. But Herd had to admit to himself that it was pretty noisy in the rear of the formation. He could barely hear his own engine because the Deuce preceding him in the formation was pounding him with straight pipes.
As they entered the highway, Herd cranked up the throttle. The smooth potato-potato throb of his Sporster’s engine reached crescendo in the form of a high pitch vibration that tickled his hands and feet as his speed approached 70 mph. Steel Dog Saloon… Here we come!!!
Stay tuned for next week’s exciting sequel entitled, “Herd gets Humbled”. In this next episode, Herd and his Sportster decide it’s time “to give somebody a spanking”, and picks a race with an easy target in his group- one of the big heavy Goldwings. This is one “spanking” you won’t want to miss… and also see why Herb concludes it’s time to tear his brand new engine apart and install $3,000 of “Screamin Eagle” performance upgrades.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Herd Mentality- Chapter Three
“Herd gets Humbled”
by Richard Rothschild
‘Twas a day of rejoice ‘twas a great day in town
when Herd’s shiny Sportster rumbled around,
Come Honda! Come Suzi! Come Yamie! Come all…
Cause this one cool HOG can sure do it all.
So off to the racetrack, lickety split,
Momentarily “old Herd’ would sure let it rip.
So he crept to the staging light, with clutch in-and-out,
Smiled at the crowds as they started to shout.
A confident soul not scared a bit…
His competition was naught… it was built by the “Nips”.
And he thought to himself, “that rice bike I’ll sting”,
As he scoffed, and winced and toyed with the “Wing”.
How do they do it? It’s amazing they roll,
With buttons, and armrests, and CB’s and all.
With that much weight, he’ll get stuck in the traps,
I’ll nail 1320 and take a look back…
And I’ll smile with pleasure and snicker for fun…
That Goldwing’s a pig , it won’t be a run.
“WE NOW INTERRUPT THIS POEM FOR A SPECIAL NEWS REPORT FROM 75/85 DRAGAWAY!”
According to sources at 75/85 Dragaway, five people were injured when a Harley Davidson Sportster ridden by a racer named “Herd Mentality” went “airborne” a few seconds prior to a drag race while in the staging area. Eyewitnesses report that Mr. Mentality was apparently revving his engine in preparation for a race when he suddenly lost control; did a 180 degree wheelie; jumped the Jersey barrier on the north rim of the drag strip and mowed down five other Harley Davidson Motorcycles and their drivers.
As paramedics were carrying Herd away on the stretcher, he was reportedly mumbling something about doing a burnout, and something about his “clutch cable breaking”. His competitor, whom was riding a large Honda touring motorcycle, was reportedly seen shaking his head and proclaiming something to the effect that, “Pigs get fat, hogs get slaughtered”.
NOW WE RETURN YOU TO OUR NARRATOR…
Actually, contrary to popular misconception, the Honda did run that day, and clocked 12.7 at 103 mph. Herd, while hospital bound was advised of this by his visiting friend “Roadkill”. Herd was apparently stunned to hear this, and (judiciously choosing his words) responded, “dang!”. Nonetheless, Roadkill was not discouraged and provided consolation, “Sh!t Herd, that ain’t no great shakes… you just have to make ‘yer bike right… a few Screamin Eagle parts and you can eat that piece of Jap crap for breakfast.”
Herd was feeling better and appreciated Roadkill’s encouragement. “Yea man, I’ll get me a Stage one Stage two Stage three and all, and I’ll teach that rice burner a lesson.” Roadkill responded, “Right on man… you ride USA’s BEST… a Harley frickin’ Davidson, and nuthin’s gonna stop you.” “Right-on man”, proclaimed Herd as he “high-fived” Roadkill… “it’s time for some “hi-po” parts”.
Stay tuned for our next exciting episode. In chapter 4 titled “Screamin’ Eagle… Here We Come”. Herd decides (after a dozen beers) that his bladder shouldn’t be the only thing that screams, and sells his trailer to raise big bucks for his hi-po transformation!
HERD joins the Heard
by Richard Rothschild (Gold Wing rider writing for the GL1800 forum, similar to the GSResources)
“What a great day to try out my new bike”, thought Herd, as he stretched and gazed out the window of his bedroom. He showered, brushed and eagerly rummaged through his newfound treasures purchased a few days earlier. “How does this look, Honey?” he asked as he modeled his leather vest and T-shirt in front of the full length mirror. He applied his dark glasses and admired his rugged facade as he posed in the mirror. His wife approached him and asked with a puzzled look on her face, “Herd, what’s the purpose of the leather vest?” Herd responded with authority, “Honey, I have to wear leather because it protects me in case somebody cuts me off and I have to lay the bike down.”
Confused, she continued, “But how can a leather vest protect you when it has no sleeves to cover your arms, and why would you lay the bike down. Wouldn’t it be better to keep it up and try to use your brakes to stop?”
Herd hesitated, pondering her naivet?. Hmmm. “Honey, everybody wears leather vests, and everybody knows that you lay the bike down in an emergency”. Besides, why would they sell so many if they weren’t important? She was silent for a moment and retorted, “Oh, I thought they wore vests to show off their tattoos.” He headed for the door. Perplexed. He pondered again, and thought to himself, “All the guys wear leather vests and talk about laying the bike down”. He dismissed his confusion as unfounded and proceeded toward the garage.
In the garage, Herd mounted his new 2003 Sportster... 1200cc of metal, chrome, and muscle. It was a beautiful machine. He turned the key, and pressed the starter button. The engine cranked reluctantly 2 or 3 revolutions and fired-up. He revved it two or three times and delighted in the powerful sound, and thought to himself, “Man, I can’t wait till I get a chance blow somebody away.” The engine settled down into the comfortable potato-potato-potato cadence that was music to his ears. “Man”, he thought, “Now this is what it’s all about.”
Herd righted the bike; raised its kickstand; pointed the sleek machine toward the street, eased-out the clutch and paddled down his driveway. Twenty feet before the street, he applied the front brake, continuing to paddle, keeping the beast upright. “Man, there’s nothing to this, it’s easy!”
Herd looked left-right-left, released the front brake lever and paddled the bike the last two or three feet down the driveway apron onto the street as he simultaneously released the clutch and twisted the throttle. The dream was now a reality. He ratcheted-up the throttle while humming Steppenwolf to himself as he headed for his rendezvous point to meet his buddy.
Six blocks into his journey, Herd encountered his first red light. He pulled in the clutch and the front brake lever as he again lowered both feet in preparation for his stop. Left-foot right-foot left-foot right-foot, paddle, paddle, … stop. Nothing to it. Herd glanced to his left and noticed a minivan with a middle age woman and her teenage daughter. Herd blipped the throttle two or three times for the benefit of his audience but deliberately avoided eye contact so as to appear nonchalant and cool. Veeeeeeeeerrrry cool...
Ten minutes of cruising and Herd arrived at Tooey’s Bar and Grill. There were about a dozen Harley’s and two strange looking bikes that looked like spaceships. Herd paddled his way into the parking lot and dismounted. He glanced admiringly at his Sporster and all of the other beautiful Harleys. As he walked down the row he approached the stranger looking bikes. He remembered they were Gold Wings. He studied them for a second, awed by the huge passenger seat, electronic buttons, and sheer bulk. He glanced at the miniscule passenger pillion on his Sporster; glanced back at the GoldWing, and humored himself, “Hmmm.. maybe that’s why they wear shirts about bitches falling off.” Dismissing his own jocularity, he proceeded into Tooey’s.
As he entered the bar, he was approached by his friend “Roadkill”. Roadkill introduced him to the others… eleven guys and three girls. They welcomed him to the table. . It was 11 AM and the guys were having an early brew to loosen up before hitting the road. Herd learned that 12 of the 14 belonged to the local HOG chapter; the other two owned the GL1800’s and were friends with one of the HOG members from work.
Finishing up, they headed for the parking lot. The ride leader owned a Road King, and was approached by the Gold Wing owners. “Are we going to have a pre-ride meeting before heading out”?
“Why do you need a pre-ride meeting?”, he asked.
“Well just to understand how we are going to handle details like getting separated, or ride formation, red lights… that kind of stuff.”
“It’s simple”, replied the ride leader, “You just follow the bike in front of you, and if you get separated, just meet at the Steel Dog Saloon at 11:45 AM.
“Okay, but what CB channel will you be monitoring?”, asked the Goldwing owner.
The ride leader ignored his question, shouting, “All right everybody, let’s get going. Does everbody have gas?”
“Sh!t. I knew I forgot something”, thought Herd. “I need gas I’m almost empty.”
He immediately headed to the BP cross the street and filled his tank. “Wow… it only took 1.9 gallons to fill this baby and it was almost empty. This is great!”
Across the street the formation pulled onto the access road. Herd peddled; pulled out; and the last rider signaled for Herd to enter the formation in front of him. It was a beautiful thing. But Herd had to admit to himself that it was pretty noisy in the rear of the formation. He could barely hear his own engine because the Deuce preceding him in the formation was pounding him with straight pipes.
As they entered the highway, Herd cranked up the throttle. The smooth potato-potato throb of his Sporster’s engine reached crescendo in the form of a high pitch vibration that tickled his hands and feet as his speed approached 70 mph. Steel Dog Saloon… Here we come!!!
Stay tuned for next week’s exciting sequel entitled, “Herd gets Humbled”. In this next episode, Herd and his Sportster decide it’s time “to give somebody a spanking”, and picks a race with an easy target in his group- one of the big heavy Goldwings. This is one “spanking” you won’t want to miss… and also see why Herb concludes it’s time to tear his brand new engine apart and install $3,000 of “Screamin Eagle” performance upgrades.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Herd Mentality- Chapter Three
“Herd gets Humbled”
by Richard Rothschild
‘Twas a day of rejoice ‘twas a great day in town
when Herd’s shiny Sportster rumbled around,
Come Honda! Come Suzi! Come Yamie! Come all…
Cause this one cool HOG can sure do it all.
So off to the racetrack, lickety split,
Momentarily “old Herd’ would sure let it rip.
So he crept to the staging light, with clutch in-and-out,
Smiled at the crowds as they started to shout.
A confident soul not scared a bit…
His competition was naught… it was built by the “Nips”.
And he thought to himself, “that rice bike I’ll sting”,
As he scoffed, and winced and toyed with the “Wing”.
How do they do it? It’s amazing they roll,
With buttons, and armrests, and CB’s and all.
With that much weight, he’ll get stuck in the traps,
I’ll nail 1320 and take a look back…
And I’ll smile with pleasure and snicker for fun…
That Goldwing’s a pig , it won’t be a run.
“WE NOW INTERRUPT THIS POEM FOR A SPECIAL NEWS REPORT FROM 75/85 DRAGAWAY!”
According to sources at 75/85 Dragaway, five people were injured when a Harley Davidson Sportster ridden by a racer named “Herd Mentality” went “airborne” a few seconds prior to a drag race while in the staging area. Eyewitnesses report that Mr. Mentality was apparently revving his engine in preparation for a race when he suddenly lost control; did a 180 degree wheelie; jumped the Jersey barrier on the north rim of the drag strip and mowed down five other Harley Davidson Motorcycles and their drivers.
As paramedics were carrying Herd away on the stretcher, he was reportedly mumbling something about doing a burnout, and something about his “clutch cable breaking”. His competitor, whom was riding a large Honda touring motorcycle, was reportedly seen shaking his head and proclaiming something to the effect that, “Pigs get fat, hogs get slaughtered”.
NOW WE RETURN YOU TO OUR NARRATOR…
Actually, contrary to popular misconception, the Honda did run that day, and clocked 12.7 at 103 mph. Herd, while hospital bound was advised of this by his visiting friend “Roadkill”. Herd was apparently stunned to hear this, and (judiciously choosing his words) responded, “dang!”. Nonetheless, Roadkill was not discouraged and provided consolation, “Sh!t Herd, that ain’t no great shakes… you just have to make ‘yer bike right… a few Screamin Eagle parts and you can eat that piece of Jap crap for breakfast.”
Herd was feeling better and appreciated Roadkill’s encouragement. “Yea man, I’ll get me a Stage one Stage two Stage three and all, and I’ll teach that rice burner a lesson.” Roadkill responded, “Right on man… you ride USA’s BEST… a Harley frickin’ Davidson, and nuthin’s gonna stop you.” “Right-on man”, proclaimed Herd as he “high-fived” Roadkill… “it’s time for some “hi-po” parts”.
Stay tuned for our next exciting episode. In chapter 4 titled “Screamin’ Eagle… Here We Come”. Herd decides (after a dozen beers) that his bladder shouldn’t be the only thing that screams, and sells his trailer to raise big bucks for his hi-po transformation!
(I'd reserve that characterization for those who are duped into paying 3 or 4 times more for a motorcycle than necessary.
the tears and historonics I copped from the kids, "They" wont let me sell it, "they" barely spoke to me for days, although "They" made it perfectly clear that any other bike would be in addition to, NOT instead of any of the other bikes.
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