Motorcycles

Hehhehheh.....Jed buddy, you ain't far wrong about there being something sexual about it. It's kinda the same feeling that an old Cavalry man gets, when he sits a good big horse. Having all that power humming between your legs, is a trip in itself. But, there was a practical reason for revving the old cop bikes like that, too. They didn't really run at peak, until you got 'em hot. Once they were hot, the slight cooling process while cruising, didn't do anything to effect 'em, but they would balk and choke, while cold, if you pushed 'em. Either you revved 'em and heated 'em up quick, or it might take a good hour, for 'em to hit their peak, in normal running.

I use to rev mine til the tone of the pipes changed to a deep, throaty rumble before I hit the street. Older neighbors didn't appreciate it too much, but it was the local sex symbol for the younger types. Altered my stack pipes and muffler. Cops hated it, but it was actually quieter than their bikes were, so they couldn't say anything. I found an old brass toilet float ball, and put it in line, right behind my muffler, for a resonating chamber. Then I made me a set of baffle inserts, for the stacks, from a bunch of two inch washers, and spotted 'em into the stacks.

The only way I could get the flame effect from the stacks was to crack her really hard, and hold it open for a second, before letting it back off. The stacks sounded like 105s going off, but not as sharp a tone quality to it, real deep and mellow, and it would shoot flames about 12 inches out of the stacks. 1250cc of pure power and beautiful music. Rollin' down the highway, those stacks were like packing a symphony orchestra with you, and the vibrations, made you feel like you were almost a God.

No wonder the old outlaw bikers were such hard-asses. Something about the psychological effects that went with it. Kinda gave 'em the attitude of the old Vikings, or the old Mongol warriors, of Genghis Khan types, or the old Cossacks. It's a hard thing to give up, once you get into it. Somehow you always feel like less than you were. Sorta like being denutted. I had that same feeling after I hung up my uniform for the last time, when I got home.

Earl

©Earl Jones April 2003

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