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The chrome and leather steed to which I cling is no ordinary motorcycle. It is a cultural icon and a Hollywood idol, a symbol of male potency, a fetish, a love-drug and a charm. It growls between the thighs and sets the blood to throbbing. Designed and built by William Harley and the three Davidson brothers with the modest ambition of taking 'the work out of bicycling,' the original Harley was little more than a bicycle with a rudimentary engine and sling back handlebars. But those first three machines off the production line in 1903 spawned a world-wide, century-long phenomenon. This success must in part be attributed to the spoils of war. Their speed and handling saw the bikes used in skirmishes against Pancho Villa on the Mexico/Texas border and by 1914, they had proved their metal. 20 000 bikes saw action in the First World War and the factory's entire output of 90 000 motorcycles were used by the Allies in the Second. The bike's manly prowess proved, Hollywood entrenched the legend. Easy Rider in 1969 saw Captain America cruise into the sunset, transporting Peter Fonda and Jack Nicholson into celluloid cool. The Harley's title as King of the Road was assured. And here I was, about to get a good long look behind the testosterone curtain and find out just what it was about this purring hunk of metal that has made it the ultimate boy toy. And as if that prospect were not inviting enough, four days lay before me of the vineyards and mountains, seascapes and sky of South Africa's Mediterranean The Victorian writer Ruskin was of the opinion that 'mountains are the beginning and end of all natural scenery.' While the Western Cape has no shortage of either, its mountains also provide s-bends and roller-coaster curves, dizzying drops off perilous passes and the electric rush of two-wheeled adrenaline, for those so inclined. I soon caught the bug. I picked it up the next morning. Ensconced in back-rested comfort behind my 'chauffeur', resplendent astride a machine of burnished attitude, I was afflicted before we even set out but managed to resist the compelling urge to practice my royal wave. | 
