Tonight we set the clocks forward an hour, which will be delightful for those of us on the Bravo Night Shift at the Police Department. Up North, also delighted no doubt, the change presages the beginning of the possibility that motorcycle riding can once again become a daily activity. Down South the change of season is marked by Bike Week at Daytona Beach, an event big enough to spill over onto our modest little island. Haute couture is not de rigeur when riding, but even I try not to wear black socks when I'm cruising Duval:
At least he is wearing shoes, a counter culture statement in Key West this week:
The drag of it is that when motorcycles gather in Key west they are almost all of them Harley Davidsons or Japanese cruiser look alikes. Throw in a few BMWs of the hardcore traveling crowd (Key West is as far south as you can conveniently go!) and that is about all the variety you will see on our streets. The name of this store at 600 Duval makes a statement not heard by the bikers:
Its not really surprising to see only cruisers in Key West because the road down here has great views, sure, but its not a challenging motorcycle ride. Youngsters, many in the military, ride crotch rockets, and try to ride slowly: 
It remains rare to see people riding motorcycles around town that aren't aimed at the cruiser market. I did find one guy, a rather taciturn character from Tennessee who warmed the cockles of my heart with his (albeit cruiser) Bonneville:
But Steve wasn't much into conversation and my enthusiasm was not apparently infectious. This next one was wildly enthusiastic, but I knew Frank before he took his "retirement" job with the Sheriff. He was on the road with the Police Department years back and nowadays he commutes to the courthouse by Honda Goldwing, his pride and joy. He talked my ear off and to see one of these 900 pound machines up close was pretty remarkable: 
My 500 pound Bonneville seems heavy to me, but at least it doesn't need reverse gear! Frank is of Cuban descent and is heavily involved in the Latin American biking scene. He's taking his club on a vacation ride in...Venezuela. 
And they are always dropping their rental scooters and breaking their faces and feet. The other Darwin Award winners are the feet draggers and phone users:
Its just cool to cruise an 85 degree afternoon at the end of the road, especially when you've towed your fire snorting beast out of a snow drift:
Yeah these guys on the fire engine red 'un are riding past a bar called Big Uns. I sometimes have to call that one out over the police radio at night. "Physical at Big Uns." I am impervious to embarrassment.
Key Westers are people who like to be practical and that means two wheels good, four wheels bad. So mixed in with all this $20,000 chrome machinery one can still spot the modest two wheeler doing its thing for the people that suffer through the loud exhausts and large (one hopes) tips:
And let's not forget the contributions of the late great Captain Outrageous, the investment banker turned artist whose contributions to mobile art are still occasionally visible on the streets of our gentrifying town.
This one was at Schooner Wharf Bar, not far from the late artist's gallery.
I have my status as a curmudgeon to uphold and though I am happy to see people enjoying themselves, happy to see the economy boosted at a time when we baby boomers finally seem to be facing our own generation's economic meltdown, I figure things can't be that bad because I still take the time, uncharitably to fidget when the streets are clogged:
So my parting gift to myself is a picture of my Bonneville, my rebellious Triumph, alone like a proper speed predator, among the stilt houses of suburbia, resting far from the madding crowd, ( maddening ain't it? That other irritating literary quotation turned cliche).
Really, motorcycles are just too much fun even if they aren't Triumphs.
