Harley Davidsons – The Nickelback of transportation

Look, I get it, seeing as I’m an avid cyclist (goes once a week) that the feeling of wind blowing through what’s left of your hair is thrilling. It blends nature and speed into one beautiful cacophony of fun. I’m sure if my mom allowed it, I would very much enjoy hitting the open road on a motorcycle like I’m Dennis Hopper (fuck, forgot he died, my last memory of him is from Entourage, jesus, that has to hurt one’s legacy). There’s probably no better way to take a road trip than on some hog, minus of course, the inability to take a suitcase or even a toothbrush. So this isn’t me trying to shit on people who like motorcycles. Sure you are risking your life and health for the ability to essentially do what you could do for less money and risk on a bicycle, but you’re clearly just too lazy for creating your own movement and I’m totally okay with that. No, this is to shed light on those who buy a Harley, and then choose to ensure that anyone within earshot is also aware that they are on a Harley.

I’m by no means a mechanic, so I don’t really know the inner workings of the Harley, but I’m assuming there is no need to rev the fucking engine while galloping through town at 40 KM/hr. And if there is, those engines are total garbage. It’s easy slagging off Harley’s when not face to face with a biker, and not because they are tough, but more so all the leather smells (see, I just mocked them again with impunity – internet tough!).

No one cares what kind of motorcycle you own. They don’t even care if you own one. But since you Harley’s are so fucking keen on letting the world know that you can make loud noises with the push of a handle, you’ve just made a date with Society Camp.

Sentence: If caught driving  a Harley and revving your shitty, Chinese made engine (I’m guessing this isn’t the case but would really rile some Harley fanboys so let’s make it a thing) anywhere within range of a home or business, you shall receive two whole fucking days, our longest sentence yet, at Society Camp.

Reform Punishment: Seeing as your shitty motorcycles are made in China (just Googled it and many parts are in fact made there), you will be forced to spend the entire two days riding around Camp Society on a Hello Kitty tricycle, and we’ll be sure to take many, many pictures, in order to share them with the rest of your motorcycle club. Meanwhile, the moment you finally fall asleep at Camp, we will rev a Harley engine and throw a pie in your face, because pies in faces are funny. But don’t worry, it will be a real crappy pie filled with literal garbage, as I’m not wasting good crust and filling on your stupid face.

And really, if you’re gonna take the risk of riding a motorcycle, don’t be an idiot and buy a slow Harley that is essentially the Cadillac of motorcycles, except painted black with flame decals and lacking a muffler. Go buy some Japanese bitty that fucking moves. Like Hunter S. wrote, “Being shot out of a cannon will always be better than being squeezed out of the tube, that is why god invented fast motorcycles”.

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