I have a confession to make — I’ve never really liked Harley-Davidsons. Someone with a keenly developed sense of perception once said “Don’t knock it till you try it.” Well, I laughed in the face of that wisdom when it came to these metal monsters, because I knocked away with gusto. Something about them didn’t quite strike the right chord — they seemed like exercises in excess, anachronisms in a flab-free world. They didn’t appear to go very fast.
They seemed to be ridden principally by men of advanced years and protruding bellies, often with necks of a bright hue of red, and designed exclusively for countries with no corners in the road system. They sounded like an industrial accident on two wheels, and you could see the masonry around you shake if one passed by, so only heaven knew what the vibes were like on the bike itself. All told, it’s safe to say that I viewed H-Ds with a certain amount of suspicion. Then I rode one, and my world changed.
It all began when the Softail Heritage Classic was wheeled out for me at the H-D office in Gurgaon. I couldn’t quite believe what I was seeing at first — a motorcycle that was so wide everyone in the room almost had to leave to make space, and so long that it had already entered next week. I actually laughed out loud as I walked around the bike, my eyes widening at the sheer heft of the thing. Oh, and it was absolutely gorgeous. I’m a big fan of anything retro, and this bike exuded classic charm from every inch of its thunderous body — it looked straight out of the 1950s.
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