It’s early in the morning when I enter the Eagle Rider shop in Flagstaff. From here I will ride the Route 66 to the Santa Monica Pier. I’m received by Jim, who’s a local from Arizona.
“For the trip, you’re about to make, I recommend you take the Fat Boy,” Jim says pointing at an impressive black bike standing just in front of the shop. I sit on the bike and push it to a vertical position to feel the weight.
It has been some time since my last ride, so I have to get used to the weight and the power of the machine again. I push the start button and the engine emits the unmistakable Harley sound. I engage the first gear and the bike slides away very smoothly.
“Take it around the block,” Jim shouts. The bike roars when I accelerate and I become part of the traffic on the Route 66.
Visions of Easy Rider’s Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper pop up in my mind. “Born to be wi-hild…” I sing out loud while I take my Fat Boy around the block.
Twenty minutes later I wave Jim goodbye and ride my bike over the Route 66 in the direction of Kingman, from where I will make a detour to Las Vegas.
Five hours and 270 miles later I hit the Las Vegas Strip and park our Harleys in front of the Bellagio. The plan for this evening is to lose a limited amount of money at the roulette tables and see a Cirque de Soleil show in one of the theatres.
“Of course I’ll have to finish the evening in the Harley-Davidson café down on the strip,” I say to myself. “It’s only one block from the hotel, but I’ll take my bike anyway to make the experience complete.”