Posse Comitatus
Harley men ridin posse. Theyre the most powerful combination of the laws of men and the laws of motion. Its high time to reckon how all this came to be.
The pages of American history record the creation of The Motor Company a full century ago, but the inspiration and manifesto of the true Harley spirit hark back a further quarter century to the federal Posse Comitatus Act of 1878. That law revoked the role of the armed forces on American soil and assigned all peacekeeping tasks beyond the ability of the local marshal to a posse of the most courageous and brawny men in each county - the posse Comitatus. As the natural order of things would have it, gunfighters, riflemen, bounty hunters and other stout and hearty men answered this call for fearless riders of the night.
They rode with the blessing of all townsfolk (even the high-collar preacher and the virgin schoolteacher) huntin down rustlers, poachers, robbers and all manner of other vermin. Sometimes to horsewhip their hide, other times to hang em high. And here the laws of men were enforced with the honest justice of an earlier age, there being swift trials, quick convictions and no appeals heard beyond a man sayin his last words.
This proud heritage of the American posse was well settled when The Motor Company roundabout the turn of the last century started producing motorcycles that re-wrote the laws of motion. Soon enough, the daring horsemen who rode posse found these new machines a better means to the same valiant end, and so the smells of fuel and oil were mixed with those of gunpowder and rope. From the earliest days, the mission and task of American motorcycling were close kin to the ritual and role of the American posse, and the Harley-Davidson bar and shield became the trademark of the righteous and the tombstone of the damned.
To this day the honor and duty of ridin posse in the service of old-fashioned style justice remain natural instincts of all Harley men. These are the men who render raw masculinity and molten iron into ferocious fury and masterful roadcraft. These are the men who state their case by a steely glare as ominous as the pump action of a shotgun. These are the men who turn the wretched faces on wanted posters into weary work for undertakers. These are the men who dont care bout a warrant before they act or anyones complainin after the fact. These are the men who set the temper of their justice and the fate of their prey by the wrath of the screamin eagle on a very stormy day.
In the same spirit and with the same resolve, these are the men who proclaim and preserve the fundamental truths of authentic motorcycling that have served this country over the past century. These are the men who hunt down those who pledge allegiance to far-eastern feudalism and make a slobbering mockery of American motorcycling by riding Asian atrocity cycles slammed together in some godforsaken land.
Now more than ever, America relies on the posse Comitatus to vanquish enemies, maintain order and dispense justice. Today as in earlier times men of the Harley caliber answer the call, and ride against any adversity, adversary or atrocity in the county. And no matter what the days count of the quick and the dead, Harley men will be ready to ride posse the next day, too.
Better hope they dont see fit to come after you.
_______________________________
They call me . . . The Highwayman
_______________________________
Harley men ridin posse. Theyre the most powerful combination of the laws of men and the laws of motion. Its high time to reckon how all this came to be.
The pages of American history record the creation of The Motor Company a full century ago, but the inspiration and manifesto of the true Harley spirit hark back a further quarter century to the federal Posse Comitatus Act of 1878. That law revoked the role of the armed forces on American soil and assigned all peacekeeping tasks beyond the ability of the local marshal to a posse of the most courageous and brawny men in each county - the posse Comitatus. As the natural order of things would have it, gunfighters, riflemen, bounty hunters and other stout and hearty men answered this call for fearless riders of the night.
They rode with the blessing of all townsfolk (even the high-collar preacher and the virgin schoolteacher) huntin down rustlers, poachers, robbers and all manner of other vermin. Sometimes to horsewhip their hide, other times to hang em high. And here the laws of men were enforced with the honest justice of an earlier age, there being swift trials, quick convictions and no appeals heard beyond a man sayin his last words.
This proud heritage of the American posse was well settled when The Motor Company roundabout the turn of the last century started producing motorcycles that re-wrote the laws of motion. Soon enough, the daring horsemen who rode posse found these new machines a better means to the same valiant end, and so the smells of fuel and oil were mixed with those of gunpowder and rope. From the earliest days, the mission and task of American motorcycling were close kin to the ritual and role of the American posse, and the Harley-Davidson bar and shield became the trademark of the righteous and the tombstone of the damned.
To this day the honor and duty of ridin posse in the service of old-fashioned style justice remain natural instincts of all Harley men. These are the men who render raw masculinity and molten iron into ferocious fury and masterful roadcraft. These are the men who state their case by a steely glare as ominous as the pump action of a shotgun. These are the men who turn the wretched faces on wanted posters into weary work for undertakers. These are the men who dont care bout a warrant before they act or anyones complainin after the fact. These are the men who set the temper of their justice and the fate of their prey by the wrath of the screamin eagle on a very stormy day.
In the same spirit and with the same resolve, these are the men who proclaim and preserve the fundamental truths of authentic motorcycling that have served this country over the past century. These are the men who hunt down those who pledge allegiance to far-eastern feudalism and make a slobbering mockery of American motorcycling by riding Asian atrocity cycles slammed together in some godforsaken land.
Now more than ever, America relies on the posse Comitatus to vanquish enemies, maintain order and dispense justice. Today as in earlier times men of the Harley caliber answer the call, and ride against any adversity, adversary or atrocity in the county. And no matter what the days count of the quick and the dead, Harley men will be ready to ride posse the next day, too.
Better hope they dont see fit to come after you.
_______________________________
They call me . . . The Highwayman
_______________________________
