In the steamy jungles of the world, unimaginable dangers and deadly creatures abound. Avon Tyres has selected the bravest explorers to join an exclusive safari deep into the darkest continent to discover the newest addition to their collection of elapids.
We’ll supply the guides; you supply the courage!
Straight from the hellfire of earth’s core comes the burning need to ride. You and the beast that can never be tamed, leaping forward, twitching, impatient, as you try to control the fury, and with a flick of your wrist, you release it. With a roar, it rushes forward like a locomotive out of control and, you can only hang on and pray for the ride to never stop. When at last the demons are exorcised, and your machine halted, you lean forward, limp with relief and spent emotions, yet knowing you have only put out the fires for a brief time.
They work even better then they look. Cruiser tires are supposed to look good. They‘re supposed to compliment the look and attitude of your bike; to set you apart. But looks don’t get you where you‘re going. And looks don’t get you home. Looks don’t count when the straight and wide suddenly turns into the tight and twisty. Or when the man in the rain-groove machine loves the same roads you do. Or when you want extra comfort and cushioning for 1O hours on the Interstate – and some decent mileage to go with it. And looks definitely don’t count when the sky turns its bucket upside down 20 miles from the middle of nowhere. That’s why Metzeler tires are specifically designed and built to work even better than they look.
What is it that happens when you straddle that American Iron? What transformation takes place that makes people stop and stare? Do they sense a shifting of attitudes, an unfettering of the mind, rebellious freedom? Do they feel respect, envy, fascination, for all that is, the Milwaukee legend? Born of necessity in the early 1900s, taking firm root over the years, and attracting individuals along the way who yearned for something more. All held in the thrall of the Harley mystique. The sound of thunder fills your head as you roll the throttle on and roll the miles away. To ride the screaming eagle is to be forever altered, forever a part of history, forever one of the wild ones.
Mud, dust, sand clay, jumps, joy, exhilaration, shredding berms, roosts, rubber absorbing impact after impact, contacting earth, the substance that made it, gripping, grasping, hand on, tires ripping through dirt, sweat running, muscles burning, heart bursting, agony, absolute ecstasy, soar free, in motocross it’s like no other sport, wheels spinning, air time, caked in mud, blistered, bruised, but you keep pushing, pumped on adrenaline, feeling nothing and everything, the overwhelming compulsion to go on, Euphoria!
Forest, green, fine moisture clinging everywhere, the wind imitating a creek as it rustles through the trees, and you feel lie the wind yourself as you float down the trail, barely aware of the bike, knobbies providing fingertip sensitivity, giving you the feedback to make those nearly unconscious decisions, navigating switchbacks, gnarly downhills, bottomless mudholes, massive air shorts, the motorcycle becoming and extension of yourself, edges blur, you are part of the kaleidoscope, an invited participant to nature’s giant watercolor, and at your favorite watering hole later on, you have much to tell.