Given the degree to which civilization has swept across the great body of humanity, there are but few places for the truly free to hide. There is no land they can claim, no banner they can rally to. They must exist as singular units within the broader superstructure of society, lampposts of righteous anarchism positioned along the dark road to the welfare state. They must hold tight to their values while the world moves away from them, towards its apparent destiny as a homogeneous melting pot into which all must be sucked and made to conform. Thus, to distinguish themselves, individuals must take on symbols, badges of honor and courage that signify them as creatures of enlightened thinking and singular attitudes. Mr. Yates covers the history of their most important symbol in this breezy and moving history.
Since the first of its kind hit the road more than a century ago, the Harley Davidson motorcycle has been a laborious machine only its owner could love. Prone to inexplicable dysfunction and hobbled by retrograde design, this infamous American bike lacks the power of its British brothers and the graceful perfection of its Japanese cousins. It is obnoxiously loud and notoriously difficult to drive, especially on the open road where more advanced models put it to shame. And yet, the Harley has not only stubbornly persisted, its popularity has, since its low ebb in the 1970s and 1980s, exploded, its fickle performance and its general inferiority transformed from drawbacks to virtues by its community of drivers seeking a means by which to separate themselves from the masses and express their unwillingness to conform. Every flaw, every drawback, becomes a badge of honor, a point of pride that, when repaired and endured, demonstrates to fellow riders a skill with ones hands and head that allow him to belong to a prized club of individualists who do not depend on society for their pleasures. This is a motorcycle that says something about a man, loudly and truly. He is not like you.
From its design to its corporate stewards, from the wars that gave it life to the gangs that made it infamous, The Outlaw Machine winningly captures the Harley Davidson motorcycle. Here, Mr. Yates chronicles not only the band of intrepid immigrants who envisioned it and actualized it, he gathers up the tricky skeins of cultural history that determined its fate. Though, at times, he waxes a bit too romantic over the bike's influence on the American psyche, this is a flaw easily forgiven in light of his unflinching analysis of the Harley Davidson Motor Company which, but for its most recent management, is rarely acclaimed. And yet, the fact that the motorcycle has not only survived but flourished successfully demonstrates Mr. Yates' argument, that, in some inimitable way, this flawed Hog is a perfect fit for those men and women who, though born too late to be cowboys, nonetheless wish to live beyond civilization's blazing lights.
This is not a story of corporate triumph. This is not a tale of engineering genius. It is not a history of a visionary. The Harley Davidson is antithetical to these clean, easy and even inspiring 21st-century narratives. No, this is a story about how a thing, almost accidentally, came to represent the angst of a subset of humanity who feel as though they have no place in the great, well-oiled machine that is civilization. It is a story about the limitations of order and about the means through which we all try to tell the world who we really are. And in this, it is beautifully done.
A vivid demonstration of how perfection can be overrated... (4/5 Stars)
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