It was August 2005 when we decided to get a motorbike. I’d been riding on two wheels (whisper it) on a Piaggio Scooter for a while. But that story will have to wait for another day.
If I remember it correctly, it was almost one of those spur-of-the moment decisions. Sue and I had been into North Wales where we had stayed with some friends and celebrated my birthday. The day after, August 25th 2005, Sue was driving and came into Nottingham via a circuitous route that took us via Beeston. I think I had been making muttering noises for a little while about wanting a Harley-Davidson, but I was still very surprised when she pulled up outside the Robin Hood Harley Davidson store.
We agreed that we would go in and have a look round. At this point, I still didn’t believe that we could afford to actually buy one, but after we had walked round the display of gleaming machines several times, admired the displays of tee-shirts, leather jackets and assorted other essential paraphernalia, Sue pointed at a Green Sportster and said something like, “How about this one, then?”.
We had two and a half years of great riding aboard this bike, including the not very wise (with hindsight) decision to ride her (for she was definitely female) through two salt-encrusted british winters. We were never the most enthusiastic bike cleaners, either, so by the early spring of 2008, she was showing some signs of our neglect with signs like a little rust around some of the bolts.
In a future post, I must recount the tale of the Sportster seat, but in Part 2, I’ll introduce the Heritage Softail that replaced our introduction to the world of Harley-Davidson.