Bikernet Deuce Road Test

I got the call on a cloudy Monday morning as I was drinking my morning coffee and trying to figure out which hand to jerk off with that morning. Just as I had made up my mind, I think it was the left hand; the phone began ringing with the resonance off my morning alarm clock.

“Hey you lazy bastard, get off the couch and head to the shop to pick up the Deuce I told you about.”

I don’t know how that old bastard found me, but he always seemed to get the number. You’d figure a three state change would wipe you off the map. Nah, this guy remembers everybody.

“Hey Bandit, I didn’t forget. I was…”

“Shut up!” he interrupted.” Just go get the Goddamn bike. I needed the story last week for the December issue.” Click. Such was the normal conversation with the man who goes by Ball.

I jumped in the shower and washed my nizats, when I began thinking why I had never wanted to do this bike feature. The Deuce was a sleek looking bike, but it just seemed a little… well, metro sexual. I rode a Fatboy, the badass of the bad. I mean, hell, Arnold even picked one for his now famous role as TERMINATOR. You just could not help but feel like a complete badass when riding it. The Deuce was sleeker and prettier, not really the bike fitted for the dumpy bouncer physique I had molded into these last few years. The deuce would fit someone who belongs in an underwear ad on Madison Avenue.

Oh, what the hell, I might as well crank one off real quickly. Why do you think the shower as invented?

I made it to the dealer to pick up the bike a little earlier than expected. This cocky dude named Jay was talking to the salesman about the Deuce out front. I think that’s the deuce I’m supposed to try out. That fuckin guy. Typical New Yorker. Acts like he has no patience for anyone else, and treats people like they are all below him. Damn cocksmoker, guy’s wearing tennis shoes and a white t-shirt for Christ sakes.

So I hear the salesman yakking with this kid, when the owner shows up and asks me if I’m the guy he was waiting for.

“Yeah, I’m Johnny, you fat fuck. What the hell is going on, I thought I was taking the king sized Sportster for a test ride. Who’s that fuckin yahoo?”

“Hey, calm down. Ball said you’d be a little later. I was having the bike detailed before you showed up and that guy happened to see her from the street. He showed up with his whole Goddamn family, all taking pictures and shit.”

“No shit? What a fuckin RUB.”

“Yeah, hell you got to sell it to them though. They have the cash…err, should I say credit.”

“Hey go fuck yourself! You’re probably going to sell him that bike for 5 grand less than what I bought my bike for. The only reason the yuppies are even involved is because you greedy motherfuckers charged yuppie prices and drove the normal guy out of the market.”

“Hey guy, how about you calm..”

“No, motherfucker you calm down. Now get me the god damn key so I can take the damn bike on a across the border into Mexico and trade it for weed.”

He tossed me a key and looked like someone just pulled the dildo from his bleeding ass.

God, I hate fucking salesman.As soon as I sat on the bike, I noticed the unique riding position. You actually feel as if you are sitting in the bike rather than on it. The seat also comes up high on your lower spine to give you the support you would need on the long trips. I started her up and noticed the deep rumble of the Vance and Hines Big Shots with the slash tips thundering across the parking lot. A little tame for my taste, but that would change with the quick removal of her restrictive baffles. I like to set car alarms off from a mile away!

I quickly clicked her down into first and felt a little shimmering as I pulled out of the driveway. It felt as if passed through a patch of pebbles, but quickly discovered I was lighting her up on the way out. Holy shit, this thing’s got some pop!

As I started up the road I began to feel my body become one with the bike. If you have never ridden a Deuce, the ride is unbelievable and incomparable to other Softails.

For starters, the tank is extremely long yet sleek. It reminded me of the differences in our bike designs. Where my bike is a big battle axe ready to pulverize the city, this bike is a samurai sword poised to chop straight through it!

The handlebars are a little low for my taste, but quickly seem to mold to my hands. I found myself feeling more and more in tune with the bike the further I traveled. I almost forgot that I was on the bike and suddenly discovered I was traveling along in the triple digit range almost oblivious to the world.

I really wanted to keep riding her, as she was easily the smoothest cruiser I had ever been on, but I had to get back to work so I could hack away at this article.

As I squealed into the parking lot and power slid to a sideways halt, I felt invigorated. Truth be told, I never felt that way when I got off of my bike. Maybe it was always battling the wind and resistance, where as this bike cut through the wind and made the thought of a windshield absolutely pointless.

I stood back in awe and noticed the flame grips and pegs accentuating the lines of the bike. The chrome front end and forward controls only made the white paintjob seem whiter. Truth of it was, this bike looked fast sitting still. Many guys spend way too much money to make their bikes into something they will never truly be happy with. God this bike was fine!

“Hey Motherfucker, what the hell do you think you’re doing on my bike?” the incredibly annoying Yankee asked me.

“What do you mean, you’re bike? I am taking this bike for a test ride for a Bikernet.com.”

“Whoa there, partner,” a new salesman was approaching and saying.” The bike you were here to test ride is the blue one parked over there.”

He pointed to a stock blue Deuce sitting fifty feet away near the showroom.

“Wait a minute; I got these keys from your Sales manager. You know the salesman with the long hair and a beard I was talking to earlier.”

“He’s talking about the fucking hoodlum you have working in service who I tried to tell about my bike hissing like a fuckin snake.”

“Oh, you mean Sonny? He is a crazy Motherfucker, I can’t believe either one of you would believe a word he said,” the little sales twerp said as he was beginning to giggle.

Ok. I guess it mattered not about us not knowing the guy, but that kid Jay and I beat the snot out of this little sales prick. Not just that, but he got the bike for 2 grand under MSRP, and I got a free leather jacket out of the deal.

If you have never ridden this bike, you need to try to find one. This was by far the best riding Harley I had ever ridden. I still smile thinking about when I rode away that day. Even though that little snobby shit was still having his pictures taken while I was on the road, he is still in the brotherhood. Best of luck to him and that beautiful white bike that makes you wear sunglasses.

Till next time.

–Johnny