Haven't ridden with a group of motorcycles numbering more than 4 or 5 in at least 40 years.
A motorcycle club founded by and for firefighters (Red Knights) organized a Toys for Tots ride starting and ending at the firehouse next town over.
I was a volunteer firefighter for a lot of years and technically am still on the roles of the department. I haven't been for a decent ride all year, and TFT is a good cause.
Somewhere between 50 and 75 bikes showed up. 3/4ths jof them were Harleys or Harley clones. NOT ONE OF THOSE %%*King BIKES HAD A MUFFLER ON IT.
Did a 125 mile loop stuck in the middle of the pack of those 50 and 60 year old juvenile delinquents. Between the noise and fumes, I've got a headache that'll bring tears to your eyes.
And riding in a pack that large is like being on a slinky. Speed up. Slow down. On the gas. On the brakes. Run 70 to catch up. Poke along at 30 in a 55 cuz they're too bunched up. Try to keep a decent interval and stay in your stagger and some impatient moron passes you.
And, of course, being the only vertical twin in the pack, and one of only 3 UJM's didn't do a lot for the conversational opportunities.
I was NOT impressed, and my loner instinct has been thoroughly reinforced.
Edit to add: On the Good News side, I managed to keep a straight face when encountering a group of fat, 60--ish accountants in leather do rags and wearing "Sons of Armageddon MC" cuts. If any of those bozos met a real 1%-er they'd shit themselves.
A motorcycle club founded by and for firefighters (Red Knights) organized a Toys for Tots ride starting and ending at the firehouse next town over.
I was a volunteer firefighter for a lot of years and technically am still on the roles of the department. I haven't been for a decent ride all year, and TFT is a good cause.
Somewhere between 50 and 75 bikes showed up. 3/4ths jof them were Harleys or Harley clones. NOT ONE OF THOSE %%*King BIKES HAD A MUFFLER ON IT.
Did a 125 mile loop stuck in the middle of the pack of those 50 and 60 year old juvenile delinquents. Between the noise and fumes, I've got a headache that'll bring tears to your eyes.
And riding in a pack that large is like being on a slinky. Speed up. Slow down. On the gas. On the brakes. Run 70 to catch up. Poke along at 30 in a 55 cuz they're too bunched up. Try to keep a decent interval and stay in your stagger and some impatient moron passes you.
And, of course, being the only vertical twin in the pack, and one of only 3 UJM's didn't do a lot for the conversational opportunities.
I was NOT impressed, and my loner instinct has been thoroughly reinforced.
Edit to add: On the Good News side, I managed to keep a straight face when encountering a group of fat, 60--ish accountants in leather do rags and wearing "Sons of Armageddon MC" cuts. If any of those bozos met a real 1%-er they'd shit themselves.