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| Women-only Harley garage parties, like this one in North Hampton, N.H., aim to put women at ease on motorcycles. Tracy Jackson
used to ride with her boyfriend, but now she wants her own bike. Nicole Hill |
Harley guns for the female motorcycle market
Garage parties give women a chance to do everything from falling off a bike in the safety of a dealer's carpeted showroom to finding the elusive ignition.
By Jina Moore | Contributor to The Christian Science Monitorfrom the September 10, 2007 edition
Page 1 of 3
North Hampton, N.H. - 'So when you drop your bike, what's the first thing you should look for?"
Betsi Greene, director of the local Harley Owners Group, stands authoritatively behind a gleaming black-and-silver Harley-Davidson Sportster 1200C quizzing the women fanned out around her. Her blue eyes sparkle with a bit of mischief. She started riding before many of the women here were born.
"You shut it off," a voice murmurs from the group. Most of these women have slid into the second seat of their husbands' or boyfriends' bikes, and a few even ride solo.
Tonight, though, they stand far enough from the Sportster that they look trepidatious. Understandably: This 562-pound bike is going down, and one at a time, they will try to pop it upright again, in front of a crowd, using the two parts of the body from which a woman usually deflects unnecessary attention – her thighs and her rear end.
Greene shakes her head. The first thing women want when their bike drops is simpler. You want, Greene says, "a guy to pick it up."
The women giggle.
"Seriously. There's absolutely no reason to do it yourself if you can get somebody else to do it for you."
Michelle Isidorio nods.
"I always look for a man," she jokes later, "whether a bike drops or not."
But there's a palpable sense of relief and surprise in the group. The women's-only garage party here at Seacoast Harley-Davidson isn't a feminist rally. There's no Rosie the Riveter-style girl-power here, no need to prove a woman an equal to a man, astride a bike or beside a fallen one. This is a room full of women who, like 4 million across the country, just want to ride.
Harley launched garage parties last year to give women a chance to ask questions they might not want – or get the chance – to ask when the showroom swarms with men. Which bike is the right size, for example, or what to do if it falls over. Or where the key goes.
Tonight's garage party isn't quite that basic. Technically, it isn't even in a garage. The women shuffle through the two-story, sparklingly clean, Seacoast showroom, where the objective seems equal parts social and sales. It feels, sometimes, like a reincarnation of the Tupperware party.
Tonight, there won't be any dirt or dust or grease. There won't even be any fuel: The Sportster the women will learn to lift has been drained of gasoline.
Strangest of all, during the garage party, no time will be devoted to what might be the bike's best selling point: the famous engine growl. No one will even turn over a Harley until Greene revs up her '98 Heritage and rides home.
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