Yep, that’s right.

After eight years away from riding a Harley, and about five years away from riding a sports bike, I have once again done the sensible, mature, financially responsible thing…

I bought a Harley-Davidson.

And not just any Harley.

A Harley-Davidson Low Rider.

Black, chrome, red tank detail, big lazy torque, and just enough attitude to make me feel like I should probably own more black T-shirts.

Bye bye sensible life, hello Low Rider

There is something deeply stupid and deeply excellent about buying another motorcycle.

You tell yourself all the normal things first.

“I’ll just have a look.”
“I’m not buying anything today.”
“I’m just seeing what’s out there.”
“I’m older now. Wiser. More restrained.”

Then you sit on the thing.
Then you hear it.
Then you start mentally rearranging your garage, your weekends, your clothing choices, and possibly your personality.

And that was pretty much that.

The Low Rider had me.

I have missed this.
I had forgotten the particular Harley feeling. It’s not about screaming to the redline. It’s not about chasing top speed. It’s not about pretending I’m Marc Márquez on the way to buy milk.

It’s the shove.
The lazy, chunky, low-down torque.
The relaxed menace.
The mechanical clatter and chrome and attitude.

The feeling that the bike is not really in a hurry, but if it chooses to move, everything else should probably get out of the way.

The 107 grin machine

This one has the 107 Milwaukee-Eight, and it looks fantastic. Lots of black. Lots of chrome. Enough shine to make me realise I now own something that will require cleaning, polishing, wiping, re-wiping, and then wiping again because I touched it.

The engine is proper bike jewellery.

Not delicate jewellery, obviously.

More like jewellery made by someone with a welder, a beard, and strong opinions about exhaust notes.
The tank looks great too. Black with the red Harley-Davidson detail, and just enough blue reflection in the paint to make photos look cooler than I deserve.

The personalised plate situation

Now, let’s talk about the extremely serious and not-at-all-dorky personalised plate.

PW.NZ

Yes.
That happened.
My sister is to blame, she said "oh that's not bad. It kind of anonymous"

I’ve wanted something clean, short, and very “me” for ages. And, because apparently I cannot just buy a motorcycle like a normal person, I also ended up with the matching domain brainwave:
pw.kiwi.nz
Because why stop at a personalised plate when you can also make it a tiny internet brand?

Is it dorky?
Absolutely.
Is it also kind of perfect?
Also absolutely. or not ?

There is something very pleasing about a motorbike with its own plate, its own web address, and probably soon its own section of the internet where I can post far too many photos of chrome, exhausts, road trips, and “I just popped out for half an hour” rides that somehow take three hours.

Back on a Harley

It is funny how fast the old feeling comes back.

For years, I wasn’t riding Harleys. Then for years after that, I wasn’t riding sports bikes either. Life moves on. Stuff gets busy. Other things take priority. You tell yourself you don’t really miss it.

Then you get back on a bike and realise:
Oh.
Nope.
I definitely missed this.

The first few rides have been that excellent mix of familiar and new and scary, it's definitely not like riding a bike, you forget.
The controls, the balance, the road awareness, the tiny rituals before you ride — they all come back. But the bike itself feels fresh. New chapter, same old grin.

And the Low Rider suits where I am now.
It’s not trying to be a race bike. It’s not trying to be sensible transport. It’s not pretending to be practical.

It’s just cool.
Unashamedly cool.

A bit loud, a bit shiny, a bit heavy, a bit ridiculous, and absolutely full of character.

FUCK YEAH 🤘

So, hello Lowrider

So here we are.

Eight years since the last Harley.
Five years since the last sports bike.
One shiny Low Rider.
One very dorky personalised plate.
One matching website.

And one very happy idiot who is clearly back into motorcycles again.

Hello Lowrider.

I think we’re going to get along just fine.