Around since 1903.
Some kind of rumble was created, distinct in sound.
Some raced; some flat tracked; some just rode.
Harley Davidson was born. I thank the Lord.
Legend was here to stay. “Made in America” was what it said.
“Live to ride, ride to live” became the motto,
but before that, they served with honor in two world wars.
The name spread, not just across our country,
but across the world. HD was here to stay.
The groups multiplied after the Nazis went down.
Action needed from restless men, home now
after going through hell. They formed up
and patches were created, some good, some bad.
Hollister, CA, ruined the image, but those boys meant no harm,
just restless and ready for action where none was to be found.

I don’t know why so many groups went to war.
One wrong move from a wrong-patched guy never settled
the score. Today the battles continue but not
from us grandpas and grammas
who remember The Mamas and the Papas.
Are we the last riders to turn into flame?
Some say HD is dead as they move afar,
setting up factories in new countries.
Still “Made in America?” Or just assembled here?
Don’t walk into any dealership; that’s where the yuppies go!
No matter the cost, fat wallets they’ve got.
Yet coast to coast, fair shops you find to keep that HD
mighty fine. You take pride and many do their own work
and all polish that chrome till it has blinding bling!
Riding clubs form and we all get older and smarter.
No fights we want, just the thrill of the chase.
Ma Nature at her best, the smell of fresh-cut hay and grass.
We ride because we have to; nobody can explain.
If you don’t “get it,” no use to even try to tell.

Is HD dead and perishing? All I see are ‘50s, ‘60s and ‘70s.
Even the crotch rockets and the young disappear.
Generations missing out because of some fear?
Can’t answer that as my two Harleys are ready to go.
More adventures await this grandpa as grandkids
scream with glee. Maybe I am old and have lots of pain,
but take my Harleys away and death would come quick.
Some say I’ve got no business going down the highway.
Get away, Naysayers! Still hell on wheels I am,
always will be for I understand.
“Live to ride, ride to live.” HD—I thank my Lord!
Through PTSD, marriage, kids and all kinds of trauma and drama,
she sits calling my name, and off I go turning into flames!
HD lives on, the older the better.
And, no, my friends, it will never die! So ride on,
Brothers and Sisters, for the code never dies either.
Patched or Lone Wolf does not matter.
You got an HD and that’s all that matters!