King of the Road

Don’t drop it. Whatever you do, Keith, don’t for God’s sake drop it.”
These were the words rolling through my mind as we pulled out into traffic for a three-day road trip through the backblocks of NSW on a bunch of Harley-Davidsons.
On arrival at the renatl store in Burwood I threw myself on the mercy of owners and let them choose my ride. Normally, I gad about on a BMW R1200 cruiser so they obviously thought I wouldn’t be intimidated by something on the bigger side.
And that’s how I ended up astride a large and shiny black Road King, pulling out on to Parramatta Road in a bit of a panic.
That said, the fear of dropping the thing didn’t last long. Within a few kilometres I was marvelling at the laid-back riding position, the sheer power available when needed, and the amazing comfort. I was in the saddle on that first day for about eight hours all up – and could have kept going. It was like riding a doona.
It looks good, too, turning heads wherever we went.
To be perfectly honest, I’m a bit of a fraud biker. I get on them, I ride them as fast as is legal (honest, guv) and, on occasion, I fall off them. But ask me something about the inner workings and I’m the first to say I know nothing about the sprockets or the underarm-overhang or the difference between torque and Peter Tork of the Monkees.
All I know is that riding the Road King was a dream. We had other Harleys with us – there was one little café racer-style sportster thingy that I disliked intensely - but I kept coming back to the Road King like Shane Warne to a packet of fags.
I’m very loyal to my bikes. In more than 30 years of biking I’ve ridden plenty but only owned two (the Beemer and a Yamaha Virago 750) but if my boat ever comes in there’s a Road King out there with my name on it.