Bye-bye Little Red

This bike. This powerful 2004 Harley-Davidson Superglide has been my partner on Russia’s wicked rainy and cold roads, and on so many roads in South Africa, I can’t even count them all. Some were delightful twisty roads, some were lovely byways through farmland, and many tested my skills as a rider. Tar would simply end, and my riding buddies and I would have to slog through viscous mud, rumble through rocks and rubble, or slither in deep sand. Avoiding South Africa's ubiquitous craterlike potholes offered another challenge. Lunatic taxi drivers ALWAYS had the right of way; after all, they moved the majority of South Africans from one place to another. Good times!

I stopped riding in SA a while back. I blame a bum rotator cuff. But in truth, I was probably ready to ease off the throttle and brake to a final stop. Oh, I went out a bunch of times after I recovered from surgery, but that unexplainable joy of riding had floated away like a dandelion fairy in the wind.

Now, meet Jacobus. An energetic, tattooed Afrikaner with dancing blue eyes, and if I had been able to see his smile behind the mask, I would say his mouth easily turned upwards. Jacobus bought Little Red outright and with only a series of well-photographed pictures to guide him. He hadn’t ridden in a couple of years, but he was ready to get back in the saddle. So when he saw my Little Red online, he knew that it would be the bike that would get him rolling along the crazy South African roads again.

As he prepared to take the bike away, Jacobus asked if I would like to see a photo of the bike after he painted it black and installed new ape hangers, I said no; I had moved on. But I added that I hoped Little Red would give him as much joy as it had given me and to please keep the rubber on the road.

Thirty whatever years ago, when I started riding, I thought I would love it forever. I thought I would love a lot of things - or people - forever. But forever is a long, long time.

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