I’m green. I have no shame in admitting that. Everyone has to be green at some point, and right now is that point for me. And in as much, I recognize that I don’t really have much a leg to stand on when it comes to assessing other people’s choices of bike, i.e. the type of bike they choose to spend their money on.
At the moment, I personally lean more toward the look and attitude of cruisers. When I picture myself riding, I don’t pine to be hitting curves at bum-clenching speed. The idea of calmly exploring open space is far more appealing to me. I don’t see motorcycling as a sport but a way of being free, and of getting to where I want to go. And to that end, I frequently find myself considering practical bikes such as Honda’s NC700X or a Suzuki Inazuma. At the right price, I’d consider any number of other bikes regardless of their look or the inferred personality that comes with owning one.
My point is: I’m not the sort of person to criticize what bike a person rides, nor do I really have any right to do so. If you want to ride an efficiency scooter or an overpriced shitpile of ridiculous, that is your right. But great googly moogly do I think Boss Hoss bikes are stupid.
Paying upward of $100,000 for an impossible-to-control monstrosity that only gets about 18 mpg from its 8-gallon tank is just so mind-bogglingly ignorant I find it hard to believe. Especially considering that the bikes do not even look cool and are possessed of the strange ability to make anyone who stands near one look like a desperate tool who is trying to compensate for the total lack of something – manhood, personality, scruples, good taste…
The only human being whom I can imagine might look even remotely cool on a Boss Hoss is Andre the Giant*. Sadly, he is dead. So, there is no reason for these bikes to exist. The fact that they do points to the dark heart of America, the thing that keeps us at arm’s length from our true greatness.
What kind of person would you have to be to pay money for such a thing? What sort of absolute soulless jackass would look at such a joke of a machine and think: “Hmm, I could buy this shining piece of shit, or I could buy a house. Yeah, I think I’ll choose the shining piece of shit, the abominable hunk of prematurely ejaculated novelty patriotism that is this… thing.”
You make me weep, Boss Hoss. You make me weep for motorcycling. You make me weep for my country.
*And that would be entirely due to the coolness of Andre the Giant.