Rolex revolutionaries buy freedom at bike store

By RON BROCHU

Four decades after their movement failed, former hippies are trying to recreate their past aboard loud, fast Hogs.


That thought emerged a thousand times at the Feb. 14 International Motorcycle Show in Minneapolis. The event was jammed with aging throwbacks who, after raising a passel of kids, are donning leather and straddling Harleys.


It’s not always a pretty picture. Come look: There’s Bill Clinton in a head wrap sizing up a Road King, and Hillary checking out leather vests in the apparel booth. By impersonating Sonny Barger, the legendary Hell’s Angels figurehead, aging Americans are searching for a counterculture Nirvana, that mythical place nobody quite found Back In The Day, when it became easier to drop out and turn on than to redefine the American Dream.


A $20,000 bike, of course, is just an expensive symbol. Like a Stratocaster, it’s worthless in the wrong hands. And face it: Most Harleys are in the hands of overstuffed execs who trailer their bikes to Sturgis behind Escalades, riding them just the last few miles – after they swap their monogrammed shirts for brand-name leather costumes. If confronted by real bikers, they wouldn’t survive the first blow to their capped teeth.


Nonetheless, prosperous suburbanites don’t embarrass easily. They’re cool with buying freedom at a bike store, hideously resembling Fred and Ethel Mertz wrapped in cowhide.


It’s just the latest form of escapism in a society hell-bent on having fun while Washington burns. Earlier came snowmobiles and ATVs – machines well suited for a society awash in cheap fuel and environmental disregard. Ignored were loftier goals, such as being good citizens by monitoring the political process, running for office and forcing incumbents into early retirement.


Our disregard has been our downfall. It’s been a fine party, but let’s be clear: While we played, our country putrefied.


Tardy or too late?


Real freedom can’t be purchased, nor can respect. You have to fight for both, but at some point, Americans stopped fighting for anything that didn’t involve personal pleasure or amusement.

Duluthians, for instance, have spent more time haggling over the Lakewalk extension than street repair, expended more effort to saving Lake Superior Zoo than ridding the harbor of invasive species. Our priorities are completely whacked.


On a broader front, the American Dream ran amok, with a majority of people refusing to accept personal responsibility for our collective plight. Instead, we’ve sought pleasure through role play, whether aboard a lightning-fast sport bike, playing Guitar Hero or mindlessly gaming on cell phones. Sure as sunrise, we disregarded all need to sacrifice for the common good.


Just one question: Is it too late to change? Can decades of high life and cheap decadence be reversed? Is America ready?


Hell no.

• Higher state and federal taxes? You’ve got to be kidding! We want to pay less and complain more.


• Reduced public employee benefits? Go fish! Public employee unions control City Hall and care less about taxpayers, despite looming deficits.


• Mainstream media owned and operated by locals rather than carpetbaggers? Much needed, but it ain’t gonna happen.


• Muffled Harleys? Don’t bet your sweet earplugs! The stairway to badass heaven will remain surrounded by thunder.

Yet, we’re at a tipping point. Something must change. Even cheap Nirvana is too costly as the country teeters on bankruptcy. And the worst is yet to come.

• The next shock will appear on our first quarter 401(k) statements. As If December results weren’t bad enough, the markets have dived every time President Obama unveiled new bailout initiatives. Pensions are dwindling faster than hope.


• As unemployment soars, millions inch closer to credit card default. That could be the final straw for big banks that already are destined to topple. How many bailouts can our great grandchildren afford?


• Domestic automakers are destined to fail without a significant infusion of public money. While Detroit seems far away, it’s the major consumer of Minnesota’s iron ore. If one of the big three go under, the regional economy will be slapped hard.

Where do we ride now? Have you heard of the dreaded high-side crash? Hope you wore a helmet and chaps.


FULL DISCLOSURE:Author Ron Brochu rides a 1990 Harley XL1200, which spends more time in repair than on the road, thanks to hideously poor design. But it’s cheap transportation and easy to fix. Brochu archives his articles at www.ronbrochublog.com.