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WAKE UP MABEL: Good to hear her thunderous voice again.

I woke Mabel up, yesterday.

Mabel as you know, is my ever-lovin' 1971 Harley Super Glide. She got a fresh Harley AGM battery at 6:00 AM yesterday morning, her old one merely a year old, courtesy of an Extremely Harsh Old Lady Winter. As I mentioned in previous writing, I usually get an average of three years from a Harley AGM battery, but not this time. This time, the battery only lasted one year.

It was an incredibly weird winter, with Her Ladyship Winter heaping snow storm after snow storm on Mabel's exposed self, in Mabel's outdoor parking lot---with nothing to protect her from the subfreezing elements, but a motorcycle cover. Yet, this is all she's had for protection, for the past several years. "Global warming?" Don't make me laugh! It's counter intuitive to believe that such harsh winter conditions could be the result of global warming, but this is exactly what the Climate Change Fantasists would have us believe. That a warmer Earth would cause greater cold. For these people, the Earth is once again flat, and up is down. Why is the sky blue, daddy? because it's really orange.

It's all about the ultimate rationalization, made to custom fit their global warming narrative. Any means toward the end, as long as the plausibility of their contentions, go unquestioned. Don't believe your lying eyes, believe what we say--that's their mantra. Why do you think that the Climate Change Fantasists, changed their catchwords of "global warming" to "climate change?" Simply because, "global warming" doesn't fit their narrative anymore. People with common sense know, that true global warming, would cause less cold weather, not more. Any five year would know that. Yet, these Global Warming Lifers, persist, smug in their ideology, yet married to it, irrevocably, because it is political with them.

Their "side" must win, even if it means going against the grain of common sense. In their desperation, Global Warming Lifers call people with common sense with regard to this issue, global warming "deniers," equating people with common sense, with Nazi Holocaust "deniers." That's their desperation ace-in-the-hole: The use of catchy, tainting descriptive terms, meant to smear, to discredit, without any logical rationale behind it. Ya see, it's all politics with 'em, never mind that there has been no rise of Earth's temperatures, in the last sixteen years. This is An Inconvenient Truth. They will not listen to reason.

That's why I ended up changing Mabel's battery at 6:00 AM yesterday morning. Because global warming, excuse me---global warming doesn't fit the bill anymore---because climate change caused so much snow and cold temps, that Mabel's old battery only lasted a year. Why did I get up so early, and change Mabel's battery at 6:00? Because I was anxious. Every year it's the same thing. A day or two before I go to start up Mabel for the first time that year, I don't sleep so well. My palms sweat, when I visualize starting Mabel up for the first time of the year. I become obsessed with my Harley 74. She enters my consciousness, like an alluring, irresistible lover, calling to me and my primal urges. My thoughts during my waking hours center of how she'll sound, when I start her up for the first time.


Loud, insistent and dominating. The sound of a loud Harley is all alone in the universe, for it's uniqueness, for it's magical properties. There is nothing like it, especially after a winter of silence from the girl. The sound of a Harley is primeval in every sense of the word, supremely animalistic, dominating and feral in its insistence. The primordial sound of Mabel's stroker motor, defined by the extreme crackle as I back off on the throttle, makes me feel alive and vibrant after she starts, in an indescribable way. My heart beats in time to my Harley's loping idle, as if her S & S Super B's carb has atrioventricular valves. Only hardcore bikers would understand what I'm rappin' about here. If I have to explain, then you wouldn't understand.

Just when Old lady Winter thought I was out, Mabel pulls me back in.


Do you know why dedicated bikers stay at it? Why they keep riding their motorcycles for a lifetime? It's simple, really. Each successive year in a hardcore biker's life, is a replication of the previous years since that biker became a biker. It's the thrill of the bike and what she does for her master. She gives him vitality and a reason to rejoice.

Mind you now, hardcores may never fully realize this on a conscious level. Hardcore bikers only know intuitively, that they have been chosen for this life, that this is what they are. That they have been destined to ride this road in life, and that this dedication to their motorcycles is rewarded by the emotions that their bikes stir in them. This is the feeling of being alive that I described, when I started Mabel up yesterday. Perhaps someday, a DNA double-blind study of hardcore bikers, will prove that being a biker, is simply genetic.
Photo by Genghis

MID 1970s: Forty years later, the feelings are the same.

Every year has a new beginning of this Vitality of the Hardcore Biker, and this begining starts when the biker starts his Harley up for that first ride of the calendar year. In 2014, that day for me was yesterday. Just going through the motions, a routine so familiar to me, that I could do it my sleep---seems new on that first ride of the year---particularly after the lethargic indifference that a unrelenting winter that we just experienced---imposed on us. Gas on. Ignition on, but headlight and tail light off. Enrichener up, on the S & S Super B. Hit the electric foot toggle switch. Start 'er up. After a few seconds, drop the Super B's enrichener. Warm 'er up at a fast idle. Helmet on, as she settles into that hypnotic idle Harleys are known for. Gloves on, as the mesmerization continues. It is trance-like. Headlight on. Adjust the mirror. Rack the throttle, just fer grins...."RRRAAACKA!" Pull in the clutch lever. Kick the heel-toe shifter into first. Engage......Got my motor runnin'. Head out on the highway. Lookin' for adventure. And whatever comes my way. Later.