nunu

At first, men riding Harley Davidson motorcycles appear quite silly, incredibly. True, their tough exoskeletons of stiff leather, boots that could break a leg, hair obscured by a grungy bandanna make them look quite fearsome. But only when they’re not on the motorcycle. There is something about they way they must hold their arms nearly overhead to grip the handles, as though stretching out on a piece of gym equipment, which seems anything but threatening (leather could be spandex, boots could be high-top sneakers and so forth). It makes a man riding a Harley Davidson motorcycle look like a child uncomfortably forced to wear a homemade pirate costume, a teenager in a sandwich board or Lily Tomlin in a giant chair. It is not until you realize that by sitting low in the bike, obscured from sight, the men steer and point a ferocious front wheel as though it is not a human hurtling towards you, but an out of control machine from some Stephen King thriller. Suddenly, you take them seriously.