Rants & Roadkill

Stuff is Making Us Stuck (Part 2)

Posted on: Wednesday, January 15th, 2020
Posted in: Rants & Roadkill, Sabbatical Shuffle, Spendology, Wily Mktg | Leave a comment

Last month, in Part 1, we dove into our junk piles and bemoaned the detritus that weighs on us, our culture, and our shifting populations. We continue that slog by taking a peek into where our rejected stuff goes.

It’s not pretty. In fact, the benevolent feeling we may enjoy when dropping off our rejects to charity might be just plain ignorant. Ex-Minnesotan Adam Minter, now a columnist for Bloomberg in Malaysia, provides a rare expert overview, having grown up in a Minneapolis family that has run a scrap heap since 1920s, published a book titled “Junkyard Planet,” and late last year released a follow-up book called “Secondhand: Travels in the New Global Garage Sale.” Mr. Minter also did an interesting Star Tribune interview when recently in town.

  • “People like shiny new things”

States Minter. It’s human nature, yet he advocates making things last as long as possible. How? Buy quality, for starters! Not only can you enjoy it longer, but the reuse market should be more plausible. He also recommends repair, despite that cheap goods often sway us just to replace. Another idea: Seek second-hand stuff, since a heckuva lot of it is nearly new.

  • What else causes this glut?

You may have noticed this: Often, the merch in Marshall’s has about the same price tag as that in consignment stores. Why? Because the mass production of goods—especially when lower-quality—can be surprisingly price-competitive. So people buy new, and second-hand stores get less traffic.

In fact, Minter notes that thrift stores in the US sell only about a third of their inventory, while the rest gets exported, recycled or tossed in the trash. Ouch.

  • Will millennials save us?

Much has been made about their less materialistic lifestyle. But don’t bet on it, says Minter, who cites research suggesting that the shared economy only appeals when it’s cheaper. And that as the millennials accrue more spending power and maturity, they’ll buy happily acquire more, just like other generations.

  • Good ideas to help clean up this mess

As mentioned, Minter promotes repair before replace, and insisting on quality. But even more radical, common-sense solutions could include “durability labeling,” which tells you things like how long a company will support smart phone or how many washings a shirt might endure.

He also proposes “right to repair” laws, noting that much repair information is protected by companies, trademarks, trade barriers, and more. Brilliant.

  • Sins and solutions

We can all think about our own sins and solutions, of course. And here’s one of mine: Sin—buying lots of new clothing recently at insanely affordable January clearance sales. (When asked who’s my favorite designer, I always say Clearance!) Solution: Spread it all out alongside similar old favorites, and make smart choices about what to keep and what to return.

Heck, sometimes that nice $15 shirt hardly seems worth the bother to take back, right? But there’s principal at work here too. And $15 is $15. Save $15 a day somehow, and you’ve got $5,500 to apply toward that BreakAway you want more than more stuff.

Even better, there will be less clutter-y obstacles in your way!

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Stuff is Making Us Stuck (Part 1)

Posted on: Saturday, December 7th, 2019
Posted in: Rants & Roadkill, Sabbatical Shuffle, Wily Mktg | Leave a comment

Black Friday 2019 enjoyed record sales of $7.4B in digital shopping alone. Cyber Monday: $9.4B, up 19% from 2018. And as for the anticipated shopping total this holiday season? A tidy $740B.

Black Friday—sounds ghoulish, no? Cyber Monday—dystopian, yes? The planet is, to be honest, suffering. Too many people, too much pollution, too much STUFF.

  • The ultimate fungus

Stuff is like a fungus. You clean it up, but the muck only emerges again. This should not surprise us, since in the USA, “Consumer spending” comprises 2/3 of the economy, and politicians and pundits alike rejoice in increases and bemoan the downticks. Up means a thriving economy; down can lead to a recession. Those are numbers, but the back-story is the love of stuff. Which, by the way, becomes even more of a burden if you’re interested in a BreakAway.

  • Beware the fleeing family                  

Speaking of BreakAway, that’s what family members often do when elders downsize, die, or become snowbirds…when couples uncouple…and when kids (but not 99% of their “belongings”) fly away to college. Heck, even a pet’s passing can leave behind perplexing piles.

We are a materialistic society, as would most be if they had our “wealth.” Let’s just call it a mixed-up blessing.

  • The industry of stuff

The Star Tribune employs a wonderful writer, John Ewoldt, who wears the title “Consumer Reporter.” Stuff is a big story these days, and his recent article, “Lifetimes of Stuff Fuel a Booming Industry” taught us many things, like: 10,000 baby boomers retire daily; age 85+ is the fastest-growing segment of the US population (and likely destined for small rooms in senior homes); there now exists a National Association of Move Managers to help people cope.

You gotta love the names of some of the local, independent Move Managers that have sprung up from savvy entrepreneurs—Junk Genius, Empty the Nest, Gentle Transitions. They will tell you that the younger generations usually don’t want the family treasures. So, their company sorts the stuff into sell, donate, and toss (most estates = about 1/3 each). They will also admit that business is robust. Heck, even good-neighbor Goodwill states that donations have doubled in the past five years, while many charities can no longer take all the stuff offered to them.

  • The opposite of  the Great Depression

This stuff crisis is multi-generational with predictable permutations. Folks raised in the post-Depression era traditionally have trouble tossing anything—yet their families don’t want their hoard. Meanwhile, to many people today (especially youth), online shopping is a pastime. Whereas a family used to save for months to buy, say, a TV (remember layaway?), nowadays, we simply stare at screens, click, and wait a matter of hours for most any object to arrive at the doorstep.

Oddly enough, both propensities lead to clutter. That can make it hard to navigate your residence—and even harder to find freedom.

  • Don’t let STUFF weigh you down

You can guess the classic excuses people use for why they can’t take a sabbatical or even use all their vacation time. What about my house? My pets? My stuff? Cool possessions define status, taste, and lifestyle. BUT, simply put, they are obstacles to overcome if you want to BreakAway.

  • Guilty, as charged

Clutter confessional: I’m as loaded as the corner bar on Christmas Eve. And yet I’m sick of stuff; it’s grown from fungus to hazard. So I keep purging—or at least trying to throw out more than comes in the door. It’s not easy; the Amazon is alluring.

Hence the crude photo above from yet another stampout-stuff drop-off. I’m just trying to get unstuck. And hoping to BreakAway.

Judging by the mountain of detritus already there, I’m not alone.

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FOTOFRIDAY: Amazon Brings IT!!!

Posted on: Friday, October 11th, 2019
Posted in: Rants & Roadkill, FOTOFRIDAY, Wily Mktg | Leave a comment

This perfectly mediocre picture may elicit mixed reactions. For me, another Amazon package arriving might make me excited about my new thing…angry about their wasteful deliveries and packaging…sad about all the local, face-to-face businesses that have died…and worried about materialism, neighborhoods, and their underpaid employees.

Travel can take you away from these worries. And my next major-league BreakAway should be Amazon-free—where no giant PRIME trucks block quiet streets. Where children don’t consume on their phones as a routine pastime. And where chirpy shopkeepers take pride in running a family business, and somehow make a living doing so.

I’ve been to these places—and hope you have too. The villages of Italy. The ports of the Caribbean. Small towns in the Midwest. And independent countries all over the planet that think outside the envelope. Meantime: I’m guilty as charged. When you need a THING, it’ll magically appear on your door the next day. May you shop in interesting times.

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The Tainted Apple We All Adore

Posted on: Tuesday, January 23rd, 2018
Posted in: Rants & Roadkill | Leave a comment

Earlier this month, some powerful Apple shareholders (including teacher retirement funds) raised a stink about the addictive-ness of the iPhone, particularly for youth. Then they went back to their abacuses and high-fived themselves for 1) saying the right thing; 2) making 50% gains on Apple in the last year and; 3) finally figuring out how to use their iPhones.

Has anyone else about had it with Apple? I have. That makes me a brazen hypocrite because I depend on these toys and tools too. BUT BUT BUT. This Apple-head feels bruised to the core. I’m on screens too much—and more all the time—and still I barely can keep up with the flow. I’m sickened by my own kids’ (and millions of others) absolute inability to put them down—and weary of being That Guy who actually still nags about it.

  • A history of innovation and…what, exactly?

As for that savvy corporation, it’s too easy to be unimpressed with Apple’s record of addressing crappy conditions in factories abroad, modest pay for US employees despite their profit-per-employee (~$400K), and an uninspiring track record of doing anything much for the public good with their billions of profits and cash.

Shall we arrange a lunch (or must it be “coffee?”) with Messieurs Gates and Buffett, Mr. Macintosh?

And what about the recent expose’ that new phone operating systems intentionally make your old phone run slower? And fry your battery? Planned obsolescence is one thing, but forced? This is a new level of customer discourtesy. Corporation over consumer. Profit over service. Greed over good.

Elmer L. Anderson, a great Minnesotan who ran a large company and has passed on, preached the simplicity of successful business and ethics: First, take good care of the customer. Second, nurture your employees. And if you do those things well, then third: Profits will follow.

While we liberal-ish culties happily diss other giants in other industries for their shady ways, we can’t conceive of a bad Apple. Instead, we gossip like little girls about the Next Big Thing (is it called the Ten of the X!?!) and line up for hours in hopes of obtaining one before, well, before you do!

The fanaticism might compare to football fans who watch their heroes get quickly and quietly hauled off the field with torn ACLs, shattered bones, and chronic concussions that morph into a lifetime of pain and mental hell. We care little beyond how it affects wins while we suck down $15 beers and scream, “Kill! Kill! Kill!”

  • Closer to home

But that’s all on the Big Screen, or at least the Big Stage. Around here (which would be most anywhere), you can’t walk into Chipotle without seeing a gaggle of people eating alone, tapping away, spilling salsa on their device, and mumbling (reading?) to themselves like President Trump singing The National Anthem.

You just know they take it to the toilet with them, too. And the bed, car, and classroom. Don’t google how many people fondle their phones while having sex.

This parent and teacher has sat through training and straight-faced discussions about Nomophobia. It’s a thing. So…Yep. It’s the educators’ job now to gently empathize with the students’ anxiety about not having access to their phones. That’s IF you make them put it away, that is. And good luck with that. (They’ll just surf the same stuff on their computers—maybe half-pretending to take notes. Maybe.)

  • Kids these days!

All to say: Kids these days! Kids! It’s so much worse than our worst fears. Conversation comes and goes, but it ain’t what it used to be. When youth gather, the chatter often revolves around something from the phone. The biggest giggles will be inspired by the screen.

Their lives happen on their screens. Screens light them up. Like coke excites cokeheads. But at some point, it’s fails to be so fun. Because now it’s an addiction. Life is difficult without it.

  • Old (but at least not fake) news

Of course, this is not news. Nor is the notion that this stuff is addictive, and the brain reacts just like it does for, say, booze, blow, and opioids. Opioids: Now there’s a national crisis for you. But I wonder if opioids will kill more innocents than distracted drivers on their phones? I wonder which will harm more relationships? I wonder which will be called a dreadful crisis and which will be considered cool?

I wonder which will make the most people rich?

My phone gets plenty of use. But I try to practice tough-love self-discipline about how, when, where, and how much I use it.

I wish that didn’t make me feel so alone and alarmed.

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Merry Christmas…In a Box! (The Annual Holiday Rant)

Posted on: Monday, December 18th, 2017
Posted in: Rants & Roadkill | Leave a comment

The Amazon Christmas ad running lately features smiling, otherwise faceless boxes travelling from a robo-warehouse to a little girl. It’s a fine ad that no doubt brought prosperous smiles to some ad agency. And that about sums up what Christmas has become, eversomuchmoreso, every year.

There was a time when the dominant imagery was about singing carols, trimming trees, decorating cookies, and gathering friends and families. Now, one may have to seek to find those icons in the media, on the streets, or even in your own home.

President Trump has made a thing lately of announcing that the “War on Christmas” is over, with his minions (elves?) oh-so happy to cheer him on and foist new, post-MAGA signage confirming same. Yet this only seems to re-declare the ongoing war on Christmas. But there is good news: The upcoming new tax code will bring much, much more profit to Amazon and Companies.

Most people’s childhoods are like life itself: A complex quilt of sensual recollections, for better and for worse. The holidays rank right up there. But with any luck, there were dark evenings with twinkling lights, hungry afternoons making home-baked cookies, and silent nights of singing traditional songs. Grandma made it so.

Having been out running errands today, Christmas shopping looks alive, if unwell. The stores are mostly chaotic, Big-Box voids. The underpaid workers look and act like the walking dead. The merchandise is strewn about like the bulls just left the building. And many stores don’t even seem to bother decorating.

Cue back to that commercial. Indeed, the most familiar holiday sound this X-mas may be the r-r-r-r-rip of opening Amazon boxes. Who packed it? Did anyone wrap it? Who was so thoughtful to go click click click, or did you just order it yourself? There is one difference, though: I’ve never seen a real box smile. Nor anyone opening one that came via a faceless delivery service.

Still, still, still, Merry Christmas. Happy Holidays. Hug your living relatives. And pray for peace on earth. Amen.

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A Father’s Day Rant for Dads Who Rock

Posted on: Saturday, June 14th, 2014
Posted in: Rants & Roadkill, Blog | Leave a comment
DSC_0013As another Hallmark holiday happens, I pat myself on the back (this time) because I remembered to send a gift—one that I know my dad will enjoy. One hopes this makes up for the dozens of times I probably forgot to even call. With every passing year, I appreciate my dad more and feel grateful he’s still kickin’, fishin’, and golfin’.

This dad can only hope my kids feel approximately the same way, now or later. And as for gifts, I’ll take an unplugged Sunday supper—with all devices put away. Maybe help me with the gardens (I have too many). And, oh yeah, cook me dinner: procure, prep, serve, clean up and put everything away. PBJ will do. Just prove you could feed yourself if I kick the bucket list– and lavish me with five KP-free hours.

  • Dads who rock: Caught in a hard place

A recent WashPost article highlights the rise of the “stay-at-home” dads; a Pew Research Center study found that the number has doubled over the past 25 years. Some dad-advocate groups, meanwhile, contend that the actual number is much higher.

First, let’s acknowledge the stupidity of the label, “stay-at-home.” I mean, what parent raising their kids as a primary purpose lounges around their crib? They’re erranding, heading out for activities, volunteering at schools and daycares, and managing logistics that might rival a wedding planner in these crazy-busy times.

Frankly, it can be a pretty sucky job. Several studies—that focus on moms, naturally—have found an alarmingly high incidence of depression in professional moms who take lengthy career breaks to raise children. I remember one touching essay by a mom longing to get back to work. By most mid-afternoons, she felt like burning down the messy house and swilling her first glass of wine.

Yet for dads, not only has the chief-parent option been largely discouraged, the unflattering stigma has kept many men from even considering the possibility. So how come—for decades now—women’s lib has been letting them roar and gradually march toward both equality and freedoms of choice, while men have been expected to work work work?

We’ve fought for the rights of women, minorities, gays, the disabled, and more. But the mere mention of asking for improvement in areas where dads often get short-shrifted (like primary-parenting and custody) elicits snark, disbelief, or even anger from, well, many women.

Meanwhile, women can now, with any luck, choose between work, parenting, and yes, career breaks. Speaking of, it’s no coincidence that research finds that the vast majority of career breakers are women. Same holds true for maternity/paternity leaves. Don’t like it, men? Shut up and get back to work.

  • No one gains from oppression

So on this Father’s Day, I salute the admirable way that males have adapted to radical gender role changes at a rapid pace—and generally welcomed women into the workspace, the sports fields, and the VIP positions. Above all, I commend the dads, “stay-at-home” or otherwise, for the countless ways they put others first to make the world a better place.

My dad worked his butt off—with full-time positions featuring long hours and moonlighting jobs to boot. But he was always there for me—and he still is.

That holds true for millions of dads in this country, and billions more worldwide. So happy Father’s Day, guys. You rock. Let’s just hope that, in the future, that increasingly includes the option of rocking your children to sleep, while putting your day job on hold.

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Vacations: A Waste of Time

Posted on: Sunday, March 23rd, 2014
Posted in: Rants & Roadkill, Blog | Leave a comment
Vacations. P-shaw! People keep sending me balderdashian articles about the need to take a few weeks off every year, if only a few days at a time, and one wonders why they spend so much time worrying about other peoples’ spare time when they could be getting things done. Anyway, vacations are for the meek and sluggish.

Let us dispel some myths about this Pollyanna utopia that one allegedly lands at when, say, you pack your bags and fly to Vegas or Cabo or San Fran or wherever.

Myth #1: Vacations offer rest. This, of course, is poppycock—since vacations stress the already over-stressed routine, require months of planning, days of packing, and hours of travel—often on jets with bad air, dangerous food (if any at all), and seats the size of one butt cheek. Once “there,” simple but essential acts like procuring Subway and finding a toilet can be a chore. The R&R happens when you finally get home and collapse back into your harried life.

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Myth #2. Vacations are affordable. You kidding me? You gotta buy gas to drive anywhere, if only to your uncle’s musty cabin. And what about sandals and straw hats and Tommy Bahama shirts for the cruise or beach? And airfare and sleeps? Better to save your hard-earned cash for more important things, like big cars, Myley Cyrus concerts, and the newest iPhone.

IMG_5331

Myth #3. You meet interesting people. Nonsense! Vacationers (and the people who serve/sell to them) are unrealistic dweebs who like to set aside sanity for careless silliness. Take this guy. He’s been living on St. John, entertaining lazy grinners, making guitars out of cigar boxes, and mastering his own musical style for years. Poor guy. He could have been a banker in North Dakota and gotten rich on the oil boom.

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Myth #4. You bond with family. Yeah, so what? Who doesn’t get enough family? Why go play Frisbee or make castles on some beach when you already spent the holidays with them? Stay home and stay in your room—after you take out the garbage and shovel the driveway, that is!

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Myth #5. Vacations encourage exploration. Ya sure, you can leave your comfort zone and go swim with man-stinging rays or climb rocks. But those are slippery slopes—and you could get your eye poked out. Stay home, I say, and keep up with your BookFace and SnifChat and GetIntoMe accounts. There’s SO much to explore online!

P1070901 - Version 2

We’ve only just begun. This topic grows more vital daily—as frozen Americans fly recklessly away for warm “escapes” to potential doom and destruction.

Stay tuned, and stay home. Part 2 will be forthcoming before you can make a risky plan to get away…

 

 

 

 

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Not Proud to Be an American

Posted on: Wednesday, October 2nd, 2013
Posted in: Rants & Roadkill, Blog | Leave a comment
DSC_0349Who are these a-holes shutting down the government? Don’t they know 800,000 just-folks employees depend on their paychecks? That millions more work on the food chain that serves them? That our economy (which has been though quite enough lately) could lurch back into near-depression?

This website avoids getting political. Until, of course, we’re mad as hell and can’t take it any more. I mean: This country has flaws, but dang it, we do good work. And for our hard work, we get an occasional day off. A vacation. Maybe even a career break (of our own choosing, not Uncle Sam’s). And with any luck, retirement before the c-word or heart attacks strike us down.

Speaking of: It’s about a healthcare law that a few troublemakers don’t like. They don’t want to provide; they want to Just Say No. They don’t care that it’s been debated for decades. Gradually (almost) phased in with tedious compromise and consternation. And even passed our Supreme Court’s smell test—the same Supreme Court that has otherwise has leaned right and sucked up inappropriate power for a long time. Our founding fathers would puke, regardless of party affiliation. Let’s get on to the next spat.

Americans are a blissfully blithe bunch. But this citizen can’t say, “How are you?” today without somebody expressing anxiety. An admirable centrist shows anger. A probation employee wonders when his “grace period” might expire. A radio report compares us to Italy. Italy? It’s a great place to visit, but you wouldn’t want to vote there.

Last Friday night, under the lights, I watched a high-school football player go down hard with a possible neck or back injury. Action stopped for a dreadfully silent hour while trainers and coaches did their best, an ambulance eventually arrived, and they boarded him and drove off to the hospital.

Who knows if he has health insurance? If his family doesn’t, the tab on that unfortunate stumble probably runs around in the thousands—before any serious care might occur. Does our nation not want to take care of innocent pre-schoolers, minimum-wage workers, and high-school athletes?

Guess not. In fact, let’s shut the world’s largest employer down over this tired argument. Let’s drag down the whole nation—nay!—the whole free world!—while these arrogant, ignorant, belligerent butt-heads play war games with our daily trust at stake.

Never been a fan of Merr-ka’s gun laws. But supposedly, they were created to keep the government in check, which made sense at the time. Maybe it’s time again. If we march and throw them into the Potomac River, there will be no government guards to protect them.

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“Send me an e-mail…”

Posted on: Thursday, September 19th, 2013
Posted in: Rants & Roadkill, Blog | Leave a comment
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERATwice this week, while on the phone trying to expedite matters of consequence that had become stalled, this was what my teleconference-mate told me.

“Uh, okay, as you wish,” was my delayed response—though I secretly wanted to teleport myself to them, bonk their cranium with the telephone, and not leave their face until we’d solved the matter.

  • What we have here…

is a failure to communicate. And to collaborate, create, and connect. Call me crazy, but I miss the days when life happened in real time, face to face. Now, a relentless chore we all face is simply dealing with our inboxes. Our texts. And our calendroids.

How did THEY ever survive when, as in my grandparents’ time, food was planted and canned and cooked for every meal? When communication was by visiting your neighbors or going to town (until that new-fangled “party line” arrived)? When entertainment was swapping stories in the sitting room (before radio wowed the masses)?

  • Do you ever wonder…

If “send me an email” really means, “Leave me alone. I’m busy with my screen right now.”

If “kids these days” will know how to endure decades of marriage that (to work) require ongoing communication, compromise, and commitment?

If “kids these days” are getting short-shrifted when they sit around texting, even when gathered together; where’s the mischief and laughter in that?

If texting as a now-dominant form of communication comes close to conveying the detail, nuance, and emotion that can make even little moments (if I may) amazing?

If online teaching can match the rigors and surprises of a convivial classroom experience? (Two friends have started new gigs in this growing field, whereas I love the challenge and exhilaration of teaching a classroom full of living, babbling millennials).

  • LIFE goes on…

Fortunately, both of my emails did get replies. The matters got resolved. Life goes on.

But this reluctant screen-stronaut longs for living that happens in real time, and in your face—like these Italian gentlemen enjoying la dolce vita. It’s raining and they’re late for lunch. But they might blow smoke in each other’s face until happy hour, and then head the bar to continue the conversation with a few dozen amici.

To them, I lean in, clink our glasses loudly, and shout, “Salute’!” To those who keep saying send me an email/text me/check your inbox, I retort, “Vada via!”*

* Italian for “Go away.”

 

 

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Leisure Studies 1: Hog Heaven

Posted on: Sunday, April 14th, 2013
Posted in: Rants & Roadkill, Blog | Leave a comment
Let’s face it, nobody’s going to the bank preaching the gospel of career breaks; they just haven’t swept our cultural consciousness (yet!)…

That said, I hope and believe that most folks find a way to get their yayas out now and again.

So I’m introducing a new series that salutes and comments on various forms of leisure. Even when some of those releases seem peculiar to the rest of us.

  • Today, we take Harley Davidson for a ride.

That rough, tough, renegade brand of mega-motorcycles screams independence, ruggedness, and machismo louder than 100 Harleys on the open highway, right?

Well, maybe. Yet a handful of impressions and experiences make this bike-skeptic question that. Like, there was that time when I was about 10 and a (truly nasty) biker gang was passing through the lake region where my family was vacationing. I ended up walking by dozens of them, and some made sexual slurs at me. That’s intimidating and mean, sure. But, really? These scary, dangerous dudes had to resort to bullying a pre-pubescent boy? I was frightened, for sure. But not impressed.

These days, large Harley stores—you see them outside of many towns—look rather like bricky Wal-Marts. One rarely sees much activity there. I’ve read that Harley makes more money on clothes and stuff than on actual bikes now. That makes sense. Doesn’t it seem you see way more Harley regalia than actual motorcycles?

Harley Davidson has gone from symbolizing unconventional free-spiritedness to a sort of clipped-wing conformity. It’s hit-the-road, fantasy fashion statements for folks who are stuck in their recliner watching football and working on their beer guts (if we pass by the actual biker gangs).

The people I do know who own Harleys (and wear the attire) go for a ride, oh, maybe once a month, in the warm months. They do sometimes ride to that huge Sturgis rally though—in their pickups and motor homes and SUVs that tow their bikes behind until they get to a nearby truck stop and then—SHAZAMM!—they ditch their comfort and climb on their uber-bike. Is that hot, or what?

In other words, Harley seems anymore like a brand that doesn’t have a lot of “there” there. Still, my I tip my leather cap to them for creating such an American myth. I love that they’re made in Milwaukee, a cool town I once lived in. And I can even say that my dad used to ride one—until, legend has it, he wrecked it in a head-on collision.

In closing, I do hope Harley fans are having fun in Hog heaven. And yet I ask, have you ever seen a Harley-head smile?

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