And they don’t get much more stupid than this!

Continuing with the “keep it local” theme, this independence day morn I take the hack’d BMW R80ST over to the next town down the line to take in the 125th anniversary of said town. There’s a parade on the agenda, and I note a bunch of bikers lined up. Ask, and yes, motorcycles are allowed in the parade and I’m welcome to join in. So I bring the hack ’round and line up behind the middle aged guys “biker” pack, consisting of one each 2 and trike Boss Hosses, a Harley bagger, a Sportster, and what looked to be a Honda V-twin cruiser. Boss Hoss solo rider of course has to fill us in on all the deluded details… 1000+ pounds, 500+ horse big block “Vette engine, 225 MPH top speed. So much for his credibility… I suspect at about a hundred that barn door windshield would be flattened, shortly before being blown off the bike entirely. And 225 MPH… Ya, it may have the power of a ‘Vette, but it’s got the aerodynamics of an old Chevy pickup with a snowplow, stock rack in back, and probably the hood up too.

So at the slightest hint that we may be moving, they fire off their engines and the rev off begins… ‘Twas worried that the hole in my ST’s rear muffler was making it a bit loud, but I had to check my tach to see if my motor’s still running while these clowns are at it. After 5 minutes of that the Honda rider has wisely sought other company, and we finally move. Once on the parade route the bagger and solo Hoss rider start competing for burn outs. The Sporty rider, like most, is a self confident mature guy at least a decade their younger and ignores this bravado. The trike Hoss rider has learned that his toy’s sacked rear suspension and automatic tranny mean he can lock the brakes, rev up the engine, and the rear of his trike will rise a couple inches, and revving the engine gives a side to side rocking of smaller magnitude. With a bike and hack that weight under 700 pounds, I can rock my rig at greater magnitude with just body english, get a rider and monkey working together and we can make the whole outfit dance. This gets to be fun… I mimic their gyrations with greater flair, and follow their burn out and “linelock” theatrics with a gradual release of the clutch at idle and then putt along at walking speed, John Deere style.

Our overcompensating rebel wannabes make it a whole block before the first dumb debacle, as the trike hoss rider attempts a U-turn from the center of the street. Now this is a big wide old school main street, with room for head in parked cars on each side with enough width left over for a couple combines to pass. But the trike Hoss has all the steering lock of an old Peterbuilt, and is stopped at the curb just a couple feet short of the 40 acres needed to turn said rig around. Undaunted, our trike Hoss rider tries for reverse, and tries again… No go. Finally risks low hanging mechanical bits and rides over the curb. Meanwhile, I’ve done a couple figure 8s in the middle of the street.

Not even a block later, stupidity strikes again… The bagger gets sideways in yet another burnout, and the porker is on it’s side. Should have just left it there, but there was some biggish farm machinery coming along behind us. Takes both the other solo riders dismounting to right the pig, and it won’t start. Maybe I should have brought the comealong? Big pig bagger rider and Sporty rider try to diagnose the dead bagger, a block later the tipover switch must have reset itself as bagger rider comes racing up THROUGH the parade. Mercifully, another block and the parade was over and our bikers were free to make the long ride to the bar two blocks away and no doubt thrill the assembled throng of a half dozen or so drunkards with the tales of their latest hard ridin’ exploits.

I parked the hack’d ST next to a tastily tweaked aircooled Beetle in the middle of the auto show, registered it as a 1983 BMW, and looked around ’til I got bored and rode home…

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