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The Runaway

It was all in a day’s ride for the Harley mountain brethren - a cavalry of rugged backwoodsmen and mountaineers who take the true grit of American motorcycling to the greatest heights.

They made a raucous run up the steep grades and discambered corners of the mountain’s north side, blasting past timber, rockface and avalanche to the summit where by tradition they celebrate their legends and feats before the gods of all ages. Here these stout and hearty riders indulged in fierce feasting and the other sacred rituals of mountain men, and then commenced a thunderous descent from the snowy peaks.

As they tackled the asphalt with brawny roadcraft, one rider suddenly broke ranks and failed to slow for a treacherous corner. The brethren caught up and saw he was cursed with the lethal calamity deeply feared by all mountain bikers: his controls were frozen solid with the brakes lost and the throttle wide open - it was a runaway!

All instantly knew what was at stake here. They were now falling into the steepest grades of the mountain that would soon plummet down to Dead Man’s Curve, a hairpin surrounded by sheer cliffs - the devil’s way of collecting his dues in these parts. Mountain myth and the lore of the hills had it that no runaway could ever be saved, and men of any lesser caliber would have let the doomed rider plunge to his grim fate in the valley of death below.

But these were Harley men, and with daring resolve all swerved into strategic positions astride the stricken biker. Brakes were forsaken and speeds soared as bold commitments backed by deep trust were swapped with rapid eye contact and swift hand signals. Narrow and jagged curves were showered with sparks and shredded rubber as engines raged and tires drifted towards the abyss – the margins of possibility here were disappearing quickly.

A lane for runaway trucks that carved upward into the mountain offered a last chance to exit the cruel grades - but these courageous men would never desecrate a Harley with a coward’s escape.

The speeds were well beyond the ton now as the beefy brethren hurled around bends with such overpowering momentum and ferocious force they surfed above the road on a shockwave, followed by a deafening roar and tremendous suction that tore limbs off trees and swept rocks off the precipices. On one curve the mountaineers careened at ungodly speed past a scenic vista and each and every one of the ordinary folk gathered there for picnic and repose was thunderstruck by the conclusive proof of what hitherto only a few had ever dared hope: this is an age of heroes.

Another few corners and the forbidding odds became bleaker as the road fell away perilously in a final descent towards Dead Man’s Curve - here was the moment of truth.

With all abreast in a giant V formation of bikes, buckskin and bravado, arms were locked together, boots and gloves were braced and the signal was given. Massive muscles of steel - fueled by gallons of adrenalin pumping through arteries as thick as oil lines - leveraged thousands of foot-pounds of raw torque over colossal bones as buckets of sweat blew off like high pressure steam. Brakes blazed bright red, tires scorched broad black wakes and smoke burned off all friction surfaces as flames licked about everywhere – a sight to send the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse fleeing in mortal terror. It was all for one and one for all as the Harley mountain brethren kidnapped fate, took destiny hostage and brought the runaway bike to a grinding, punishing and smoldering stop mere feet from the deadly curve.

Back at the ultimate peak of the mountain, an old soothsayer cloaked in hooded robe raised a long crooked finger to the heavens and whispered "I told you these are the worthy ones."

_____________________________

They call me . . . The Highwayman

_____________________________
 

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The all-time guilty pleasure!

Ahahahahahah!!! Reading Highwayman posts is so mind-bogglingly lame, but it's more addictive than crack. Keep it coming Highwayman! Oh yes! Keep it coming! That is if the soothsayer finds us worthy! Oh damn, I need an Advil, my ribs are sore from laughing!
 

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Re: The Runaway

Ummmm, that's great and all, but have you ever actually RIDDEN a motorcycle? I mean, at the controls, not on the back of daddy's Honda Dream 50.

A real rider would just kill the engine.

I call you... the Poseur.
 

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Re: The Runaway

By far his most drug-induced blatheringing yet!

I note that the WayHighMan posted this a mere 22 minutes after MO did.....Hmmm. And at 10:38 at night no less, I would've thought he'd be at the Blue-Oyster by now..........
 

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Re: The Runaway

"...followed by a deafening roar and tremendous suction that tore limbs off trees and swept rocks off the precipices."

Sounds like every Harley I've seen. They're really loud, and they really suck. :) I think that if thehighwayman was involved in this farcical moto-acrobatic ceremony, it may have been him sucking (I won't say who, or what, but you can figure it out).

luvmyvfr
 

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The Runaway Harley

Oh, and isn't it appropriate that it was a Harley that the brakes went out on, and that the driver didn't have the presence of mind to kill his engine. Pathetic statement from the fashion lemming himself.

luvmyvfr
 

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Thank God you're alive TheHighwayman! I thought maybe a man of your obvious hardiness was off being TheBradleyfightingvehicleman or something dangerous like that, keeping the world safe from atrociteurs. I'll sleep well tonight...
 

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Enjoyed the article and welcomed the comparison. TheHighwayman has excellent writing skills (I'm not joking). Also enjoyed the pict and caption of the two cruisers on the road shoulder...wanted the see picts of the sequence of events that transpired after the first pic as the two cruisers go flying down the road hit by some MOron California cage driver who thinks there is now another lane..."Must be Mable. There's bikes traveling in the lane."
 

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Re: The Runaway

I love this bit!

"...all swerved into strategic positions astride the stricken biker..."

Hmm, is this the secret ****-erotic 'slip' guarenteed to be in every highwayman post?
 

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Re: The Runaway

>It was all in a day’s ride for the Harley mountain brethren-

As if they could handle more than one day....

>They made a raucous run up the steep grades and discambered corners of the mountain’s north side-

The 30MPH, peg-scrapping speeds were staggering....

>Here these stout and hearty riders indulged in fierce feasting and the other sacred rituals of mountain men-

In their tight-whites--"Thank you Sir, may I have another..."

>and then commenced a thunderous descent from the snowy peaks.

I'm sure those awesome Harley brakes were completely comforting.....

>As they tackled the asphalt with brawny roadcraft, one rider suddenly broke ranks and failed to slow for a treacherous corner.

See above....

>and the throttle wide open - it was a runaway!

How can you tell?.....

>All instantly knew what was at stake here.

My daddy is gonna be pissed at me for trashing the bike....

>But these were Harley men, and with daring resolve all swerved into strategic positions

astride the stricken biker.

"Hey, can you bend over and get that bar of soap for me?"

>Brakes were forsaken

You can't forsake what you don't have....

>speeds soared as bold commitments backed by deep trust were swapped with rapid eye contact and swift hand signals.

'I've never seen you here at the Raunchy Trike before..."

>Narrow and jagged curves were showered with sparks

What other option is there?

>The speeds were well beyond the ton now

Only because it's downhill....

>On one curve the mountaineers careened at ungodly speed past a scenic vista and each and every one of the ordinary folk gathered there for picnic and repose was thunderstruck by the conclusive proof of what hitherto only a few had ever dared hope:

A Harley was going over 60 MPH....

>Another few corners and the forbidding odds became bleaker as the road fell away perilously in a final descent towards Dead Man’s Curve - here was the moment of truth.

"I am going to eat hot death...."

>With all abreast in a giant V formation of bikes, buckskin and bravado,

"I love the Village people....."

>arms were locked together, boots and gloves were braced and the signal was given.

"Alright, drop and give me twenty..."

>leveraged thousands of foot-pounds of raw torque

Someone started every Harley ever made.....

>Brakes blazed bright red, tires scorched broad black wakes and smoke burned off all friction surfaces as flames licked about everywhere

"That M.S.F. course was hell..

>Back at the ultimate peak of the mountain, an old soothsayer cloaked in hooded robe raised a long crooked finger to the heavens and whispered "I woulda been your Daddy, but the dog beat me up the stairs...."

_______________________

They call me . . . The RumpRanger_______________________

Your Name: orangetrak [ Logout ]

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About the only thing that comes to mind is some rub ****tin' himself when he comes to a tight corner and goes into mental reset, a sport bike rider would knock it down a gear and slam it through the corner, then turn around and try it from the other direction. Oh well Highwayman, you're always good for a laugh, Being a Manly Man, I figured you'd be over kickin' Iraqi ass by now, guess you got caught up in the " don't ask, don't tell" thing, Huh?.... About the V-Rod/ Warrior, I like the paint on the V-Rod, I saw one in Motorcyclist that had cast spoke wheels that looked really cool, and a bike that scores it's own ginch would be pretty handy to have......I rode a V-Rod a little bit so I know how well they work but a $7k price difference would be hard to justify if the Warrior came close, I'd probably go with the V-Rod on looks and performance and try not to think about the money,,, and the JB license plate holder should say " my other ride is your sister," not "my other bike is your sister"
 

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Some people say the V-Rod isn't a real Harley because of the Porsche engine, but I say Hey it's outrageously overpriced and corners like a pig, what more do you want?



That said, I'll give HD kudos for trying to stay ahead of the curve, unlike camp-follower Yamaha.



(note to Shortride: the first paragraph is just a joke, so don't get your Harley Davidson panties in a twist.)
 
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