Loud Pipes, Orange Cones and the Redwood Run

Loud Pipes, Orange Cones and The Redwood Run

So, I pull into Garberville this past Friday. I find all but a few of the parking spots on Redwood Dr. blocked with orange traffic cones, and labeled “Reserved for Motorcycles”. Like its not enough for us to put up with those loud smelly bikers, and their motorcycles for a whole weekend, the Chamber of Commerce expects the rest of us to make ourselves scarce while the local merchants seduce them.

I shop in G,ville every week, how about reserving me a good parking spot. No, for me they put up signs reminding me not to spend more than an hour in the Town Square, that restrooms are for customers only, and no loitering! But, they sure know how to roll out the red carpet for those bikers.

Every other week of the year, the Chamber of commerce calls the cops on anyone who doesn’t look busy. But, show up on your Harley, they’ll put out chairs and port a potties, save you all of the best parking and whip you up some barbeque. If local merchants treated me as well, I wouldn’t begrudge them every dime I have to spend in Garberville, and if they treated the kids who roll into town with just a backpack as well, they probably wouldn’t shit on their door-stoop.

I want to sympathize with the G,ville merchants. I know that landlords around here suck blood. Profit margins are razor thin and everyone, it seems is looking to sell out before the economy totally tanks, but I’m sick of local merchants whining about the people in town, especially when they push me aside to make space for those biker douche bags.

I really hate Harleys. Specifically, I hate the noise. As a musician, who’s been run off of numerous sidewalks for busking with a small battery powered amplifier, and drowned out by engine noise when I played acoustic, unnecessarily, unapologeticaly and obnoxiously loud motorcycles really bug me. I’ve seen the bumpersticker that says: “Loud pipes save lives”. Well, not if I can help it.

Even teenagers have learned to respect the commons. You never see kids with big boom boxes, blasting everyone out with their favorite pop music anymore. They’ve all got their ipods or whatever. With little earbuds in their ears and their thumbs on their phones, teenagers today don’t make a peep. I wonder what kids listen to these days. I actually miss the boom boxes.

I’d never miss the Harleys, if they’d ever go away. Maybe they could go the earbud route. Nice quiet motorcycles with headphones built into the helmet that amplify the engine noise for the rider. With digital sound modeling, riders could choose from hundreds of “virtual tailpipes”. The iHarley, that would be considerate.

Engine noise sucks! I don’t know why anyone wants to hear it, or wants to be the source of it, but it is everywhere. Just try to record bird sounds, crickets or frogs in the evening, or anything outdoors. You’ll hear engine noise. Even in the quietest meadow, you’ll hear some engine roaring away in the distance. Does every fucking creature on the planet have to listen to your goddamned Harley?

Harleys make more engine noise than big-rig trucks, but carry less than sports cars. I don’t care if they get good gas mileage. They get terrible noise mileage. I can hear Harleys cruising the Ettersburg Rd. three miles away from my home. I don’t care whether you’re a veteran, cop, or the fucking King of Jordan, when you ride that Harley, you’re just an obnoxious asshole on a loud bike to me.

 

Author: john hardin

Artist bio: The writer in me says: “Don’t tell them who you are, show them what you do.” The artist in me says: “It must be strong, simple, bold, yet rich with detail, but above all, original.” The filmmaker in me says: “We need to contextualize your work by weaving the roots of the Psychedelic Revolution, the Environmental Movement, Gaia Theory, Future Primitivism and musical influences from Iannis Xenakis to Bart Hopkin into a narrative that portrays an iconoclast's struggle for cultural relevance from the forested hinterlands of rural Northern California within the greater post-industrial, post-post-modern, post-reality mind-fuck of the 21st Century.” The critic in me says: “Will that guy ever shut up?” The comedian in me says: “It has to make me laugh at least once.” The engineer in me says: “Don’t forget to tell them that you do it all off-grid, with solar power, using recycled materials.” And the improvisational musician in me says: “Cut! Great job everybody!”

6 thoughts on “Loud Pipes, Orange Cones and the Redwood Run”

  1. I figure once a year is a small price to pay for all the money these folks bring into our economy (plus I like most of them–nice folks.) I do agree that blocking off two sides of the road was a bit much though. I hope the Chamber gets the word and reserves a few less spaces next year.

  2. Kids’ Ipods don’t make a sound? Hardly. Try spending a few minutes on public transportation for a change. (Oh, I forgot, you live in Northern CA). During my subway commute, I try to get a few quiet minutes on the train before entering the craziness that the city is. But those darned kids, with their cheap earplugs, pour out whatever gangsta rap the crooked wannabes are into that minute. Back in the day, boom boxes were a negotiation between inside and outside cultures — you would go to the back of the bus or train to drain your triple D batteries. Now, iPods are everywhere, there isn’t any public space where you don’t hear f-bombs leaking out of cheap headsets.

    Noise? When you’re surrounded by trees?

    Poor baby.

  3. We all have our opinions. I think you are a little overboard. Bikers do bring some revenue to your community like it or not. Suck it up. You could have a lot more issues. I think one weekend a year you could stay away. Just a suggestion.

    1. Maybe you could put mufflers on your obnoxiously loud bikes. I don’t see any of that revenue, but I sure hear those bikes, and nothing says “asshole” louder than a Harley Davidson.

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