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Mr. History and
his Hog
By Susan Olling
Last year, I wrote about one of the toys on Mr. History’s wish list: a
top-of-line Harley. Mind you, he’s mentioned this particular item
for twenty years. I had apparently taken leave of my senses or my
evil twin was in our house last spring when I told him if he wanted a
Harley to get one.
He bought a helmet and gloves and took the riding class last
fall. The visit to the local MVA office (AKA the Maryland Motor
Vehicle Administration) to make the necessary changes to his license
was apparently surprisingly painless. A few weeks after that, we
went to a gathering of motorcycle riders at the local Harley-Davidson
dealership; and Mr. History took a test ride on a trike. After
extensive research on the Harley-Davidson website, Mr. History had to
decide which trike he wanted to order. Not the specimen with all
the electronics, thank goodness. When asked my opinion, I
suggested a paint color that would be visible during less than ideal
weather might be a good idea. Red perhaps?. He found a
jacket that is an eye-popping greenish-yellow (certainly visible).
Well, Mr. History ordered his toy, a freewheeler in black, the
beginning of February last. It arrived a couple of weeks
later. I took him to the dealership and offered to follow him
home. Nope, he wanted to take a test ride first. I have to
say he looked quite comfortable on his trike when he pulled into the
driveway. He and it went on a long ride to Frederick, Maryland
(on back roads) a few days later. The following week, he decided
to ride to work. Interstates to D.C. streets to the National
Mall. He created quite a stir among his fellow rangers.
Evidently, they couldn’t believe he did it. When the seasonal
rangers came back in the spring, they were told that Mr. History
“flipped”. Not sure which ranger made that diagnosis.
One of our neighbors, who’s never at a loss for words, was speechless
when Mr. History pulled into her driveway.
Mrs. Neighbor next door was as excited as Mr. History about his
purchase. Little Neighbor, all of sixteen months, was out with
his dad a few days ago and stopped his toddling to watch Mr. History
take the cover, which looks like a slipcover to me, off the trike.
One of the best reactions to this piece of metal occurred at a local
military base. Mr. History had to get his ID badge so he could
get on the base to volunteer at the USO center. Visitor parking’s
tight, but someone was leaving as he roared in. There were three
uniformed individuals, two men and one woman, at the gate. While
Mr. History was inside waiting for his badge, the two uniformed
gentlemen (both carrying large, black weapons) walked over and circled
the trike. Making comments. I can only imagine what was
going on at the gate when Mr. History arrived. Perhaps something
like this: the two gentlemen were so excited about this thing
that madam uniform-wearer told them to go take a look. But don’t
be long.
Mr. History recently went on an overnight trip to Jamestown,
Virginia. He passed a commissioned law enforcement ranger giving
a speeder going in the other direction a “Thanks for driving the
Colonial Parkway” souvenir. Mr. History went past, of course not
speeding. He looked in the mirror and saw the cruiser had turned
around to follow him the rest of the way to Jamestown. The
officer took a long look as she passed the trike in the parking
lot. On the way back up I-95, he passed a Prince William County
motor officer who was eyeing the trike, evidently.
Mr. History sold his car. Alas, poor Yaris! We knew you
well. Apologies to the Bard of Avon.
I had no idea that motorcycle riders were such a friendly lot.
Proper etiquette is that a biker waves when passing another biker.
To be fair, I told my dear husband that I would be a passenger six
months after he got the thing. Six months will be here in August,
as Mrs. Neighbor has helpfully pointed out. He’s also excited
about us taking overnight trips on the trike. I’ll drive the
support vehicle, thank you.
Next on his wish list, a 1940 fire truck, fully restored and
operational. One of his co-workers took him to look at a restored
1928 pumper in Fredericksburg, Virginia. This could be his for
only a small mint. Maybe if his ship comes in.
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