Harley-Davidson motorcycles have an enduring appeal to everyone reading this publication. Harleys are more than just motorcycles, they are cultural icons to every red-blooded American, symbolizing freedom, rebellion, and the open road. H-D’s legacy stretches back more than 120 years, and ever since its first V-Twin in 1909, the “potato-potato” soundtrack has been Americana music to our ears.
This rich heritage pulls strongly at our heartstrings, conjuring up ideas of a rugged and adventurous lifestyle behind the handlebars. We dream of rolling down Route 66 on a Knucklehead or crossing the country on a Duo-Glide, harking back to nostalgic roots in America. We sometimes imagine ourselves as one of the cowboys Bon Jovi sang about – “On a steel horse I ride…” – and the pull of everything H-D represents brings us closer to wanting that image when we ride.
But whether due to finances or family commitments or other figurative roadblocks, ownership of a Harley sometimes gets postponed. For Frank Palmeri, the right time to buy a Harley was delayed for decades. Take a look at Frank’s long road to H-D ownership below. –Ed.
Related: The Long Road to Harley-Davidson Ownership: Scarlett and the H-D Affair
“When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.” –Lao Tzu, ancient Chinese philosopher
After 50 years in the workforce, I finally decided to retire and buy a new motorcycle. I attended an open house at a Harley-Davidson dealership, where a red and maroon 2013 Electra Glide Ultra Classic caught my eye. After a couple test rides, Ruby was mine.
So what’s it like owning a traditional American air-cooled Big Twin after 40 years of riding just about everything else? Well, it sure is different. To give you a frame of reference, here are some of the more notable bikes I’ve owned:
1985 Honda VF700S Sabre
This potentiometer-smooth Sabre was the first vehicle I ever purchased with a bank loan. It ran great for 20K miles before developing a rod knock, so I had to scrap it. These early Honda V-Fours had oiling problems. Sucked for me.
1974 Norton Commando
I picked up my Commando knowing virtually nothing about British bikes, but I knew I had to have one. When Nortons run right, they are a hoot: light, fast, handsome, and great sounds and handling. But when you ride a classic British bike, you will become a motorcycle mechanic, whether you want to or not. I’m just now finishing a major restoration on it.
1972 BMW R 75 /5
I never really bonded with my BMW “Toaster Tank” 750. It ran fine and looked amazing with that shiny Art Deco chrome tank. But I’m a form-follows-function guy and would have preferred a /6 with the larger tank and the disc brake. I love BMW “Airheads,” but this just wasn’t the right one for me.
1993 Yamaha TDM850
This smooth and powerful counterbalanced parallel-Twin was in many ways what an updated Commando might have morphed into if the British bike industry hadn’t imploded. It was a do-everything motorcycle whose only inherent design flaw was the stock exhaust that made it sound like a sewing machine. Truly a wonderful motorcycle, it was only imported here for two years.
2003 BMW K1200RS
Whoever said riding a slow bike fast is more fun than riding a fast bike slow sure hit the nail on the head. I rode “Alpine Annie” for 20 fun years. The problem was that this shaft-driven 130-hp highway flier is designed for triple-digit speeds on the Autobahn, but we don’t have that kind of limited access motorway over here. After a while, it got boring riding such a fast bike so slowly.
In addition to the above bikes, I’ve ridden many more each year on demo rides at the Americade touring bike rally in Lake George, New York. You name it – Triumph, Indian, Moto Guzzi, KTM, Buell, all the Japanese brands, etc. – I’ve ridden them all.
Riding Ruby
The Electra Glide is the quintessential American touring bike, but it’s distinct from the experiences I’ve had during my decades of riding other motorcycles.
I was able to walk my 620-lb K1200 RS out of the garage easily, but there is no way I’m doing that with Ruby. Now I sit on the bike in the garage and duck walk it backward onto the driveway – I don’t ever want to find out how difficult it is to pick up a 900-lb motorcycle. Once in the driveway, I dismount and put Ruby on the sidestand, what H-D calls the “jiffy stand.” The angle of that deployed stand just looks wrong to me, so I always worry about a tip-over, but it works just fine.
With my other bikes (except my Norton), you just push the starter button and go. With Ruby, starting is truly an Event. After I put on my riding gear with my key fob in my pocket (without it, you ain’t going anywhere), I set the kill switch to Run, turn on the ignition, make sure the bike is in neutral, and hit the starter button.
Then the starter motor does the Herculean task of getting those two big pistons moving – you can actually hear air escaping from the compression release as the arduous task of turning over the engine begins. All of a sudden it catches, and – boom! – the whole world changes. There’s so much sound and vibration that you have to catch your breath. It’s like Dr. Frankenstein saying, “It’s alive!” What a rush, each and every time.
Out on the road, Ruby is a joy to ride. The weight melts away, and you are in luxury touring mode: big, comfy seat; batwing fairing letting just the right amount of wind in; and music coming in from the four-speaker sound system. The rear suspension could use a little more travel, but other than that it just glides down the road nice and easy, with the steady beat of the V-Twin keeping perfect time. I love it.
Ruby and I together weigh about 1,100 lb, yet I consistently get well over 40 mpg with the smooth and powerful Twin Cam 103ci engine – the last of the classic H-D V-Twins that are solely air-cooled. It’s a miracle of modern engineering: an old-school engine design that is somewhat agricultural in its simplicity yet still delivers exhilarating and reliable performance.
So how does the big girl handle? If you respect her limitations, there is nothing you can’t do on this bike. The footboards are sprung, so if you get that far over, they will pivot up. Videos of motorcycle cops on coned courses prove that big H-Ds can really corner and handle well. As always, it’s the rider, not the bike, that makes the difference.
Related: Harley-Davidson Electra Glide Highway King Road Test
Another big plus with my Harley is the maintenance. Ruby has hydraulic valves that never need adjusting, and the belt final drive is good for at least 50K miles. That means the only regular maintenance is fluid and filter changes, with brakes, tires, and battery as needed. I have never owned a motorcycle that required less maintenance.
When you own a big H-D, you’ll learn that those letters also stand for “Hundreds of Dollars.” It’s easy to spend big bucks when you walk into a dealer – there’s so much bling available for these bikes, both from Harley and the aftermarket. You name a part on these bikes, and a shinier or stronger one is available. I’ve installed a water bottle holder, an adjustable backrest, a custom shift linkage, and a new windscreen.
Speaking of dealers, there are plenty of them, and that’s a great reason to choose a Harley-Davidson as a touring bike if you are going to be piling on the miles. I have family and friends all over the country who I plan to visit now that I have time in my schedule. My CPAP machine, which I need to take with me if I want to sleep, fits in the big Tour-Pak, and there is plenty of other storage to make long-distance travel easy.
If you buy an H-D, your new hobby might become collecting the poker chips that each dealer has – they provide a reason to ride all over the place, visit different shops, and maybe spend money. It’s a fun thing to do and a good excuse to go riding. Why other manufacturers haven’t done something similar yet is a mystery.
Another aspect of Ruby that I enjoy is the conversations it starts with riders and non-riders, who always have stories to tell about their motorcycle experiences. I met an elderly couple in Canada, and the gentleman told me he used to have a Norton and was hoping to get another one someday. The skeptical look in his wife’s eyes was just classic, as you might imagine.
I get a lot of folks coming over to say hello when I’m stopped. Ruby is a magnet for gun lovers, freedom lovers, and the God-and-country folks. I don’t want to spoil their preconceived image, so I don’t bother telling them I drink decaf coffee and listen to NPR. Motorcycles are apolitical in my world. I’ll ride with anybody, anywhere, and anytime. If you like to ride, you are my kind of people.
Recently I went riding with two buddies, one on a Moto Guzzi and another on a BMW. We stopped for coffee at a convenience store, and as we ordered, a woman ran in and shouted, “Someone just ran over your bikes!”
We went outside to find an old guy in a jacked-up pickup who had backed into the Guzzi and knocked it over. As we handled the situation, you could hear people in the crowd saying – and I’m not making this up – “Thank God it wasn’t the Harley!” Indeed, things are very different on an American motorcycle.
If you see a ruby-red Electra Glide Ultra Classic being ridden by an old guy with a huge smile and a yellow Aerostich jacket, be sure to give me a wave.
Getting my first Big Twin at age 65? Good. Riding all over the country on this bold and beautiful scarlet red magic carpet? Priceless.
