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Travels With An Airhead

Motorcycle Shows

— by Notch Miyake

I passed on the bus ride to the Toronto Motorcycle Show with the group from Country Rode. I would have gone if they told me earlier that they were going to show dirty movies on the bus and stop on the way at the Niagara Casino.

But the bikes in Toronto didn't interest me. Most of them have too many cylinders. All anyone needs is one or two. (If you have a Boxer, you need two because it looks wierd with just one jug hanging out on the right side.)

A lot of the bikes in Toronto are water-cooled. Some have hydraulic rear brakes. Some are fuel-injected. Way too much plumbing. And, as every homeowner knows, wherever you have plumbing, there will be leaks.

Fuel-injection also means high-pressure. And wherever you have high-pressure fuel, leaks tend to be more spectacular.

This raises an important safety issue. What part of your anatomy is closest to the gas tank? Right. If I were a young stud, I would be careful.

To my knowledge, nobody has lost his or her reproductive capacity due to a fuel tank explosion on a gravity-fed carbureted bike like the Harley-Davidson.

This, of course, is the reason for the popularity of Harley-Davidsons in the sexually active segment of our population. On the other hand, fuel-injected K1100LT riders seem unconcerned by this important statistic.

So I went to a motorcycle show more suited to the needs of the safety-conscious motorcyclist. The Third Annual Skin and Steel Tattoo and Motorcycle Show and Swap Meet.

It was a pretty high-class show. It was in the Convention Center, not the Dome, so it didn't smell like last week's Farm Fair. Plus, there were no metal detectors or pat-downs at the gate.

It took a while to get over the ominous feeling of being in a roomful of big, hairy, potbellied guys wearing blue jeans, black t-shirts and leather vests with large eagle patches sewn across the back. Especially since they all still had their weapons.

Since it was winter, there was not a lot of skin. And there was not a lot of steel, either. Actually, there were hardly any tattoos or motorcycles to be seen. The show consisted mostly of vendors selling patches, helmet stickers and black t-shirts with obscene slogans printed on them.

Even the Hells Angels were selling t-shirts to support their legal defense fund. The shirts were tastefully done in black.

After I got done looking at the obscene slogans and the live tattoo demonstration, I looked at the bikes. No unnecessary cylinders. Restrained use of plumbing. No fuel-injection. Safe to ride.

Hey, ride sex. No, safe sex. No, ride safe. Winter is getting awfully long.

— Copyright © 2001 by Notch Miyake.

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