On the outside, it almost appears that you never really own a Harley-Davidson. Rather, it owns you. Psychoanalysts would no doubt bang on about it all being some kind of gang culture, such is the way riders immerse themselves in the Harley-Davidson life.
Apparently, this extends to the motoring press, whenever the company puts on one of its famed road trips. So here I am, about to mount a Heritage Softail Classic in order to explore some of Oman’s finest riding roads and I’m covered, head to foot, in Harley gear. As is everyone else. The gang is here and you’d better cover your ears.
If you’re unfamiliar with Oman, you should do something about that. It’s a welcoming country that rewards with experiences that are unique in the Gulf. Its staggering, jagged mountain ranges plunge vertically into an azure sea and the roads that crisscross the terrain are usually empty and in excellent condition. Unlike the UAE next door, there are twists and turns aplenty, making it perfect Harley-Davidson territory – something that fans of sports bikes would no doubt claim was an oxymoron. But two of the things I love about these bikes are that they’re relatively slow (which means I’m more likely to live till the end of the trip) and they encourage an upright riding position (which means I get to enjoy the jaw-dropping scenery).
The heart of any Harley is its engine. While other manufacturers have embraced water-cooling and other noise-sapping construction methods, this company has carried on regardless and its millions of fans wouldn’t have it any other way. The brand is resolutely old fashioned, a dinosaur, a last bastion of analogue stubbornness in a digital world. After hearing its growl and feeling the low-down torque catapult me down the road, I’m moved enough to sign on the dotted line and let a Harley into my life, merchandise and all.
It’s true that the Harley sound is one of the most loved in the motoring world. A V-twin, air-cooled Harley at full chat is something to be indulged, a deep guttural, flatulent bellow which reminds us that an engine can still sound like it means business. We tear along the mountain roads like rolling thunder as sheer rock faces magnify the colossal rumble we’re creating. Residents are probably familiar with the sound by now though – Oman is biking nirvana and riders flock here from all across the region to remind themselves what their passion is all about.
After just half an hour in the saddle, I have fallen in love with this Softail. It looks unashamedly retro, it’s comfortable and powerful and lighter than its Road King brethren, the perfect combination of old-fashioned attitude and touring capability. And I really don’t want to hand it over to anyone else. I must, however, as there are new models to try.
To be honest, I find the extent of the current range bewildering but new for 2014 are eight models with more power, better braking, improved ergonomics and tweaked styling. This is the largest scale launch in Harley’s 110-year history and it’s called Project Rushmore.
After a spell on the new Low Rider – to ride it is simplicity itself – we stop for coffee and I spy the gorgeous new Breakout and bag its key for the next round. To my eyes, this is the coolest looking bike in the range – a sort of halfway-house chopper, with a decidedly feet-forward riding position and a rear tyre fatter than I am. I want one, and that’s even before I’ve started it up.
The Breakout is part of the Softail range, although it looks nothing like the rest. Wanting a piece of the custom action, Harley-Davidson has produced a bike that looks, to all intents and purposes, like it’s already been highly modified. With a stretched-out stance and a 35-degree fork-rake angle, it looks like it would never get around the corners that we’re faced with on a minute-by-minute basis but nothing could be further from the truth.
You simply lean, with hardly any twisting of the bars and the Breakout gets around just fine, even if it does so at a slower speed than other bikes might be capable of on the same bends. Its lean angle though, becomes compromised at more than 23.4 degrees, and that means some peg scraping. Unnerving at first but you soon get used to it. The Breakout is supremely comfortable and always dramatic, whether you’re looking at it in the car park or twisting open the throttle and unleashing the full 1,690cc the engine has to give. A bit of a hooligan, and genteel at the same time, I love every second spent in its seat.
For two glorious days, as I swap seats with other members of our gang, experiencing models new and old, two things remain constant: the unapologetic attitude and character that sets this brand apart and the epic, cinematic vistas that Oman provides in abundance. I’m no biker but I could almost see myself owning one of these anarchic, anachronistic machines and upping sticks to live in Oman. Watch this space.
