I got together with two friends from church, Steve and Patrick, to go for a ride. The odd thing was that they both had Harleys. We met up on a chilly December morning; they with two shiny chrome-plated window-rattling american marvels and me with my beat-up Japanese rat bike. They were dressed in Harley black while I was wearing my glow-worm Aerostich Darien jacket. Needless to say, I looked a little out of place as we rolled up 77.