From the desk of El Pinche Pirata del Fuego
Carlsbad, NM
Dear Mr. Harley Engineers, Executive Officers, and the Entire Board of Directors:
Please take a break from endorsing, "The Official Harley-Davidson Waffle Iron", and maybe spend a bit more time working on your product so that it doesn't repeatedly break down and/or shed nuts and bolts on the hiway.
While I appreciate the history and lore and the comaraderie found amongst other riders, what I really appreciate even more than that, is a product that works. And, arriving at my intended destination without 3rd degree sunburn.
Kudos to you for bringing your brand back from the brink of bankruptcy. But you seem to have done so by crass commercialization and the sheer volume of dealerships. You are nearly as ubiquitous as Starbucks.
I fully expect to see "The Official Harley-Davidson Feline Flea & Tick Pet Bath" sometime this year.
Here's the thing: I love my bike.
But pushing it sucks. It's fucking heavy.
Want to know what I've never had to push? My Toyota. It has 10X the mileage as my Harley and, over the course of the past 3+ years and 25,000+ miles, has let me down 0% of the time.
Been to west Texas lately?
It's hot. Melt your innards type hot.
Pushing heavy objects thru hot places is the exact opposite of "fun & sexy".
And, to have this little "slice of Harley owner life experience" it cost me $1,200.
That really cuts into a fella's beer funds.
Before the regulator quit and left me stranded on 1053 N, 20 miles outside of Ft. Stockton, the bolt that holds the trip odometer reset button in the "dashboard" fell off, so that when I attempted to reset the odometer, the button fell inside the dash where it could only be reached by unbolting and removing the dash. Not life threatening and not terribly difficult. But, if your engineers were worth a damn it might not happen.
Incidentally, the thin, copper bolts that hold the old style "post" stereo in a 76 Ford is a perfect fit.
But the point is, while scavenging bolts from abandoned vehicles somewhere in the hinterlands of west Texas makes for entertaining reading, I doubt it would happen on a BMW.
I must, however, congratulate you Sir. You've managed to turn your ineptitude into some sort of "Red Badge of Courage" for the purchasers of your products. Every Harley owner with more than a couple years riding experience has a story about how some crucial bolt sheared off at hiway speeds and hurled itself thru the fuel tank and ignited the whole contraption, a la Nick Cage, and how, at 80 MPH he had urinate on the fire in order to save both man and machine -
"Adrenaline, man. It takes over and you just do what ya' gotta do."
- or how, when his beloved HD suddenly left him stranded in no-man's-land, he was forced to craft a new head gasket using only roadkill armadillo and a boy scout pocket knife.
Great stories for sure and one of the reasons there is such a fellowship amongst Harley owners.
You buy one of these bikes and you join a tribe. The shared hardships, trials, and tribulations of those who look forward to long solo rides where anything can and sometimes does happen has created a sort of brotherhood that, I think, does not exist in any other brand. But, I have 4 brothers, and while I have enjoyed talking to all the Harley guys I've met thus far, I'm not really looking to add anymore.
Please step away from "The Official Harley-Davidson Inside the Shell Egg Scrambler" and work on creating a product that's not only fun to ride, but reliable.
Your friend and mine,
El Pinche Pirata del Fuego
Editor's Note:
I love this bike and I love that I'm on this trip. And I absolutely adore the people of Texas. I have never met a more consistently nice group of people anywhere at anytime.
Yesterday, while waiting for the tow truck, several people stopped to see if they could help.
Johnny in the Aaronn's truck gave me 4 mini-bottles of water and actually offered to load the bike in the back of his rig and take me to Odessa himself . He didn't have straps to tie down the bike so I waited on the tow truck, but he was entirely serious with his offer.
Two younger guys, covered with tattoos and with "gauged" ear-lobes stopped to look in on me.
Two hispanic guys gave me 2 more bottles of water, ice cold from their cooler.
Then Ricky from one of the local oil companies stopped and gave me 2 more bottles of water.
Then and older gentleman (forgot his name) stopped and poured some of his sweet tea into an empty water bottle for me. His passenger, Mark, told me to call Brendon at Legacy Harley in Odessa, which I already had. Later, when I got the bike in to the service department, I found out that Mark had called and told Brendon that I was on the way and to take good care of me.
The older fellow also told me he would come back around to check on me in an hour or so, and that, if I hadn't seen the tow truck by then, he would go get his trailer and take me to Odessa himself.
That is pretty special and particularly unique to Texas. People are friendly and always ready to sit and talk for a few minutes and curious about who you are and where you're going.
It's really nice. I like these people alot and can't say enough good things about them.
(I drank every drop of water these kind people gave me over the course of 2 or 3 hours and never once felt the need to relieve myself; such is the heat out there.)
There is something about this place, this rugged and desolate corner of the country, that has created a people who, while tough and sturdy and independent; a people that want little, if anything, to do with the federal (or even state) rules or moneys or help; has also created a people who are willing to lend a hand without being asked. They do it because it's their nature; they're just good people.
And, also, I think keenly aware of how fate can sometimes be changed by some, up to then, benign and insignificant part; a lost bolt could leave you stranded miles from any help and could seriously result in disaster. It's no joke. Just a couple hours out in 106 degree heat and I was feeling it.
So, while I certainly wanted to vent my frustrations in regards to expensive machinery not being entirely reliable, I would really like to express how terrifically uplifting my time on the side of the road really was.
If you found yourself in the middle of nowhere and saw a man, half covered in tattoos, with long-ish hair, a grumpy demeanor, and an eye-patch, standing next to an old Harley, would you really stop?
I don't know if I would either.
But these people in Texas did. And they did it on a pretty regular basis. It seemed like just as I was finishing off one bottle of "gifted water", someone else pulled up to give me a little more.
That's pretty damn nice and I don't think that I'll ever be able to fully express how truly grateful I am for the experience.
Thank you Texas, and with a somewhat begrudging air, thank you Mr. Harley Executive; it was you who gave me the opportunity to spend some time with these wonderful people.
Special Thanks again to:
http://www.legacyh-d.com/
Gary, Nic, Mike, etc were great. Got the Crossbones patched up in a couple hours and got me back on the road.
A-Pops Towing 432-336-2765 or 432-290-6653 in Ft. Stockton
(Cynthia was an absolute doll to deal with - extremely helpful and kind. I had lunch with her and the grand-kids which was kinda fun. The Source of the Trouble happened to call while we were eating so Isaiha talked to her. "Your mom's nice." Thanks little buddy.
Also, Cynthia has the same last night as me AND her grandfather is from Salamanca, Spain too.)
Bien Venidos (which translates to: "An unruly sea otter has touched me in an inappropriate and sexy way so now I'm getting my waterwings and heading home". Mexican Restaurant in Ft. Stockton was great. Try the Chile Rellenos.
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