Harley to women: Hear us roar

Another abandoned cliché

The profile of Harley riders in general has changed, riders say, making old stereotypes passé: Harley rallies aren't crowded with tattooed, pierced, leather-clad rebels -– riders are just as often doctors, lawyers, accountants and others who can afford a brand whose starter-bike price averages $8,000. Another abandoned cliché, according to Genevieve Schmitt, is about women bikers. "The old stereotype of women riders is that they were loose . . . had tattoos and were on drugs," says Schmitt, who runs the Women Riders Now Web site. "That's definitely gone."

In part, that's because there are so many of them. Explanations vary -– increasing gas prices, more disposable income or women's empowerment -– but female motorcycle ownership grew at almost double the rate of general motorcycle ownership between 1998 and 2003, according to the Motorcycle Industry Council.

• Get free, real-time stock quotes on MSN Money

Women make up more than 18% of solo riders. They also make up 12% of Harley motorcycle sales -– triple that of 1990. Meanwhile, the average age of riders has jumped to 41. If teenage boys aren't buying bikes in droves any more, middle-aged women, at least, could help plug any profit gap.

If the Seacoast garage party is any indication, this isn't a threatening group. These are professionals in business-casual jewelry, most of whom were introduced to bikes by husbands or boyfriends. Some want their own bike to ride alongside their man; others recently ditched, or were ditched by, their significant other, but the habit stuck.

Everyone in this showroom loves the mythologized open road. For feeling the wind, smelling the air, sensing a connection with the natural world, these women say, nothing is better than a bike. But there's one problem: "If you're going to buy a car, you know if you want a Ford or a Nissan, an SUV or a sports car," Jean Martori-Crum says. "How do you know which kind of bike to get?"

"First of all, there's only one kind of bike. It's called a Harley-Davidson," Isidorio responds with the knowing confidence of a rider ready to maneuver grips and gears with ease. She bought her used Sportster only this spring, and she has no idea how to ride it. She reassures Martori-Crum: "I can only tell the difference between them by the names on the fender."

Dozens of things will be demystified this evening: Both sunglasses and windshields count as the eyewear required by state law. Boots with 2-inch heels are not a rider's friend, even when they're sold in Harley's own gear shop, because the added height throws off a rider's balance. Operator instruction and safety classes are affordable, even if the Harley itself is not.

And never, ever, under any circumstances, try to yank a dropped bike up with your arms.

'OK to cry?'

Before showing them how to lift the bike, Greene asks the women to mount it while it rests on its side stand. Each woman easily throws a leg over the top and feels out the bike's size and center of gravity. One petite brunette –- wearing precisely the boots that the clothing representative warned against riding in –- rolls off the other side, taking the bike down with her.

"That's why we like engine guards," Greene says as the woman slips herself out from under the bike. The chrome guards look like two handles and protrude from both sides of the bike; in a real riding situation, this would help keep a leg from getting pinned by the engine or burned by the exhaust pipes. But on the cornflower-blue carpet, it's more of a convenience.

With the bike on the ground, Greene explains that even men who follow their first instinct –- to reach over and wrench the thing upright using their arms -– often regret it. It's best to do the thing that makes you look, to nonriders, a little silly.

"You want to back up to it, get your butt down lower than the seat, grab the lowest bar and lean into the bike," Greene says.

A small blonde approaches backward, squats and pushes against the seat with her body, but too much of the bike's weight rests on her back.

"Get your butt down," Greene says, and the blonde protests that she doesn't have one.

"It's not that hard to do," another mumbles -– but later confesses she's never tried it.

One by one, each woman gives the lifting a go, and most manage to raise the Sportster until it leans again on its side stand. When the last woman succeeds, the group breaks out into applause.

"Are there any questions?" Greene asks.

"Is it OK to cry?" one woman pipes up. Then smiling, she insists, "I'm just kidding."

This article was reported and written by Jina Moore for The Christian Science Monitor.

< previous |  1 | 2 |