'The' Best Thing About Owning A Big Dog?
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carefreeinaz
Member
Comfort, power, and class.
Sent from my Pixel 3 using Tapatalk
Sent from my Pixel 3 using Tapatalk
Mr. Wright
Knows some things
The way it makes you feel. Here's a story I wrote after my first encounter with one.
Riding the Big Dog
It happens to a lot of us, you’re cursing down the street, and suddenly, without warning, -- you sin. “Forgive me Lord, for I am coveting thy neighbors bike.” You can’t help it, there it is, long and lean, fat in the back, thin in the front. The thunderous sound, emanating from the sculptured exhaust, running along the chrome, and custom paint, makes you almost wet your pants. You can’t believe your eyes; your buddy has just bought a Chopper.
“Man, I can’t believe you bought this.”
“Yea, it came with a payment book, the size of a St. Louis phone book, but I always wanted one.”
As you look it over, you see that it has an old school look, with contemporary styling. And the custom paint scheme is not the typical surrealistic flame job; it’s more of a futuristic fantasy of rips and flames that gives the bike a look of prestige and class. It’s a look that you can get away with wearing khakis pants and loafers, while riding it, as he sometimes does, and not look out of place.
You throw your leg over it, and pull the bike up straight under you, the handle bars roll back off of the triple tree, in front of the high back, at a very comfortable position. The fit is perfect, and to add to your adrenaline rush, he says, “Do you want to take it for a ride?’ Torn between two senses, your brain is analyzing the cost, and saying, “no,” and your body that’s screaming, “YES!!!” It only takes a moment, to flick the little angel off your right shoulder, smile, and say; “If I’m not back in a week, you might start looking for me.” You press the start button, and the 107 ci. S&S engine springs to life, and purrs with a nice lope, of any fine hot rod, the vibration messaging the inside of your thighs. Depressing the clutch, you can feel that it has enough springs to hold the disks together under a hard acceleration. Shifting the Baker six speed transmission into first gear, the bike feels like a well-bred stallion, in the starting gates, of the Kentucky derby, rearing to go. The long raked front end feels odd, while turning the bike around, but it is well balanced, and low slung, and only requires three parking spaces, to swing it around. Out on the street, you start to notice that everyone is looking at you, you feel like a king, parading through town. Then it happens again, as suddenly as it happened the first time, you can’t help it, -- you sin again. “Lord, forgive me, my ego is to big for me to handle.” You pull up to a stoplight, and the guy in the car next to you says, “nice bike,” you don’t bother telling him it’s not yours, that your only taking it for a test ride, you just smile and say, “thanks.”
Out on the open road, you realize this is what this bike is made for. Shifting into 6th gear at about 65 mph, the bike smoothes out, and feels as good as my cruiser. With the gas tank at about chest level, it blocks most of the wind, and at 105 mph, your still sitting quite comfortable, so keep one eye on the speedo, and the other looking out for the hi-po. As you pull back into town, the goose bumps are pulling your skin tight over your muscles; the adrenalin has diluted your blood so much, that if you were to cut yourself, you would bleed pink. The oxygen, from the forced air induction, into your lungs is coursing through your brain, and you feel more alive now than you have ever felt in your life. Riding my cruiser will never be the same again.
I have had many opportunities to ride it since then, the adrenalin diminishes, as your butt gets sore. The excitement fades as the polished aluminum dulls, but there is something about a chopper, even if it is just something you pieced together in your garage. You can see it in peoples eyes, as you pull up next to them at the stop light, and they say “nice bike,” or in the young girls who ask, “can I get my picture next to your bike?” You just smile and say, “go ahead and sit on it, and we’ll make it a good one.”
People love choppers, long lean chick magnet machines, or should I say, people magnet machines. Some say, the day of the chopper is coming to an end, but there will always be room in my garage to park one.
Riding the Big Dog
By Shannon Wright
It happens to a lot of us, you’re cursing down the street, and suddenly, without warning, -- you sin. “Forgive me Lord, for I am coveting thy neighbors bike.” You can’t help it, there it is, long and lean, fat in the back, thin in the front. The thunderous sound, emanating from the sculptured exhaust, running along the chrome, and custom paint, makes you almost wet your pants. You can’t believe your eyes; your buddy has just bought a Chopper.
“Man, I can’t believe you bought this.”
“Yea, it came with a payment book, the size of a St. Louis phone book, but I always wanted one.”
As you look it over, you see that it has an old school look, with contemporary styling. And the custom paint scheme is not the typical surrealistic flame job; it’s more of a futuristic fantasy of rips and flames that gives the bike a look of prestige and class. It’s a look that you can get away with wearing khakis pants and loafers, while riding it, as he sometimes does, and not look out of place.
You throw your leg over it, and pull the bike up straight under you, the handle bars roll back off of the triple tree, in front of the high back, at a very comfortable position. The fit is perfect, and to add to your adrenaline rush, he says, “Do you want to take it for a ride?’ Torn between two senses, your brain is analyzing the cost, and saying, “no,” and your body that’s screaming, “YES!!!” It only takes a moment, to flick the little angel off your right shoulder, smile, and say; “If I’m not back in a week, you might start looking for me.” You press the start button, and the 107 ci. S&S engine springs to life, and purrs with a nice lope, of any fine hot rod, the vibration messaging the inside of your thighs. Depressing the clutch, you can feel that it has enough springs to hold the disks together under a hard acceleration. Shifting the Baker six speed transmission into first gear, the bike feels like a well-bred stallion, in the starting gates, of the Kentucky derby, rearing to go. The long raked front end feels odd, while turning the bike around, but it is well balanced, and low slung, and only requires three parking spaces, to swing it around. Out on the street, you start to notice that everyone is looking at you, you feel like a king, parading through town. Then it happens again, as suddenly as it happened the first time, you can’t help it, -- you sin again. “Lord, forgive me, my ego is to big for me to handle.” You pull up to a stoplight, and the guy in the car next to you says, “nice bike,” you don’t bother telling him it’s not yours, that your only taking it for a test ride, you just smile and say, “thanks.”
Out on the open road, you realize this is what this bike is made for. Shifting into 6th gear at about 65 mph, the bike smoothes out, and feels as good as my cruiser. With the gas tank at about chest level, it blocks most of the wind, and at 105 mph, your still sitting quite comfortable, so keep one eye on the speedo, and the other looking out for the hi-po. As you pull back into town, the goose bumps are pulling your skin tight over your muscles; the adrenalin has diluted your blood so much, that if you were to cut yourself, you would bleed pink. The oxygen, from the forced air induction, into your lungs is coursing through your brain, and you feel more alive now than you have ever felt in your life. Riding my cruiser will never be the same again.
I have had many opportunities to ride it since then, the adrenalin diminishes, as your butt gets sore. The excitement fades as the polished aluminum dulls, but there is something about a chopper, even if it is just something you pieced together in your garage. You can see it in peoples eyes, as you pull up next to them at the stop light, and they say “nice bike,” or in the young girls who ask, “can I get my picture next to your bike?” You just smile and say, “go ahead and sit on it, and we’ll make it a good one.”
People love choppers, long lean chick magnet machines, or should I say, people magnet machines. Some say, the day of the chopper is coming to an end, but there will always be room in my garage to park one.
Mr. Wright
Knows some things
Oh, sorry that was more than one word. I guess the one word would be what's on my tag.
chubs
Guru
It may have been more than one word, but all those words were arranged in just the right order to explain " the best thing about owning a Big Dog" Well done !!
PAUL NOBBS
Member
WARNING : Dont start it up the garage if you want to keep the cement between the brick work!
Reddickracing
Well-Known Member
Cause it turns heads everywhere u go
Jersey Big Mike
100K mile club
My response to the query would be "If you have to ask, you'll never understand"
The smile on my face at 65 mph on a sunny day.
Brent Herridge
Active Member
It's just the coolest thing on wheels. And JMike is right, wouldn't understand,......
and your wife will open the door and scream at you calling you an idiot because all of the pictures are falling off the walls.
desertdawg
Member
Watching the faces on the boys in the crowd, oogling my wife's Mastiff, as she tells them that 117 cubic inches is pretty close to 2000 cc's.
Of course the ladies get a big kick out of asking, "So is that bigger than yours?"
Of course the ladies get a big kick out of asking, "So is that bigger than yours?"
Butch Cassidy
Active Member
I makes me feel young again. 
I've never seen a Harley at bike night that look so good, rides so good and get so much attention....while parked....lol
Brent Herridge
Active Member
Bikes, babes, beach and beer. That sums it right up.
That sums it right up.