Motorcycle rally not welcome here
We need to be sure that the proposed “first-ever” Glenwood Springs Harley-Davidson motorcycle rally planned for the Fourth of July is absolutely the last ever, if it happens at all. This is the most outrageous idea to come along in many years.
For all the sponsors’ high-minded talk about local spending, philanthropy, and good behavior, the point of riding a Harley motorcycle is to make noise. The point of staging rallies of Harleys is to make lots of noise. These machines are specifically designed to minimize exhaust muffling, and their riders revel in pointlessly revving their motors as they roll through town and roaringly accelerating on the open road.
With 800 – yes, eight hundred! – of these obnoxious, ear-splitting machines invited to Glenwood Springs, conversations downtown will stop, the natural splendor of July days will be destroyed, and community events will be transformed from celebrations of neighborhood, games, and patriotism into exaltations of machine culture. They even have the gall to intrude upon our traditional and festive fireworks fun, turning it into their own noise fest.
In the lower Roaring Fork Valley, this celebration of noise excess is particularly acute in that the steep walls send echoes reverberating across the valley so that every household gets to hear every belch of every motorcycle magnified and multiplied. The “Roaring” in Roaring Fork will take on a whole new meaning.
Whoever approved the use of our new Community Center as host for this ridiculous event and whoever in any other way encouraged the event to come here should be scolded and sent to a corner to contemplate their short-sighted mistake.
The volume of these machines should constitute a violation of Glenwood Springs’ noise ordinance. If it does, the motorcycle event should be stopped in its tracks. If it does not, the law should be changed to prohibit any like it.
Don’t let this nonsense get started here, lest we become the next Sturgis, Durango, Ignacio, or Estes Park of the Tour de Racket – another sacrifice zone to the gleaming chrome ambassadors of noise, waste, and excess.
Send this motorcycle mess on down the road.
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Amid hundreds of cleat-footed little leaguers casually gathered along the first baseline, the glare of parents’ sunglasses deflecting the early morning sun, coach Troy Phillips began a trip down memory lane.