I sometimes feel like the traffic is parting in front of me like that old story about the Red Sea opening up to allow passage
In the past two years or so that have passed since the revival of STREET CHOPPER, I've noticed an interesting link between the style of bike I might be riding on any given day, and the way people react to me. First off, I find that I'm just not going to get any respect from the general mass of the motoring public if I'm riding a bagger. Be it my own Electra Glide or one of the Road Kings or Glides that we've been recently testing. Unless I come across another Harley fanatic on the road, I tend to get cut off and ignored as much as if I was driving a car. I may as well be "Joe Soccer Dad" cruising around town in one of those boring minivans.
Even though we're allowed to split lanes in California -- meaning we can ride between two lanes of traffic if done in what our state calls a "safe and prudent manner" -- most drivers seem to try to make it harder than usual for me to squeak past them on a dresser. It's as if we're in some sort of competition and they will surely lose if they allow me to get past. I'll even get a glimpse of them working out their game plan in the rearview mirror as they try to figure out how to cut me off while acting like they never saw me -- even though I saw them looking directly at me in their mirrors seconds before. The congested highways around here seem to breed a competitive behavior in which people find themselves unable to allow you to arrive somewhere seconds ahead of them. They'll often do anything, at any cost, to keep it from happening. It can get downright dangerous and scary at times. Drivers tend to forget that a human is riding atop that blasted machine they so desperately feel they need to squeeze out.
If I hop on a softail or a rigid of any kind, things seem to get a bit better. The hardened stares give way to smiling faces, and the shorter appendages on people's hands are pointed upward in a positive manner -- a nice change from the typical long-fingered L.A. rush-hour traffic gestures. Though the genesis of the majority of these bikes took place somewhere other than the production line of the Harley factory, quite a few people can be seen mouthing the words "nice Harley" as we pass one another. Like most of the public, these people have no idea that there are literally hundreds of companies besides H-D that are cranking out a ton of nice V-twin bikes each year. I might be riding a Big Dog, a BMC, Indian, an American Ironhorse, or whatever else we have in the test fleet at the time, but most people seem to think anything with a lot of chrome and two cylinders is a Harley. At least their hearts are in the right place, and I'll take the higher level of acceptance over the negative stuff anytime.
Things change again if I'm riding my Buell, but the reactions are inconsistent and a bit strange at times. Those who can appreciate the hell-raising appearance and unique Buell exhaust note often smile and wave me past. Then there are those who express the "hell if I'm gonna let that damn sport bike get past me" attitude, and do everything they can to squeeze me out of traffic. I've actually had a couple cars with Harley stickers on the back that played this game. Once in a while they may change their outlook on things if I get close enough for them to realize that my evil little "furrin" bike actually has legitimate ties to the Harley bloodline, but this doesn't happen very often.
But of all the bikes we ride to and from work, nothing commands the level of respect and courtesy that I find anytime I'm chugging down the road on something with more than 40 degrees of rake and a frontend that's been extended into the double-digit range. As silly as it sounds, I sometimes feel like the traffic is parting in front of me like that old story about the Red Sea opening up to allow passage. People will even wave me out of a parking lot and into the traffic in front of them, instead of trying to ignore me by avoiding eye contact like they do when I'm on my bagger.
Old-timers who still tout the panhead as being the last of the great era fawn the nasty down-to-business look of a Twin Cam-powered BMC chopper. Guys like this, who would normally run at the sight of a Twin Cam anything, actually find it to be acceptable when wrapped up in such an eye-catching chassis. Face it, looks have a great deal to do with the way we feel about our choppers, and a raked Hayabusa just won't cut it like an old '49 Panhead will. Ride safe and take care!