Harley Davidson Motorcycles have always had a certain image associated with them, one of rugged individuals in leather jackets with big American motorcycles seeking adventure on the open road and/or at the nearest roadhouse. It’s a culture that I have little familiarity with, and it’s definitely not a lifestyle for everyone, but that doesn’t stop people from trying to look like they’re a part of it. Oftentimes old-school Harley riders have been known to lament the increasing number of RUBs (short for Rich Urban Bikers) in their hobby, riders who treat their bikes as just one of the many toys they bring out on the weekend whenever they feel like it and generally make fools of themselves in the process. For anyone out there looking to take part in the tough guy biker image without all the painful tattoos or overgrown facial hair, Here’s one way to start:
It’s not just any beef jerky, it’s Harley Davidson Road Food, Fuel for the Wide Open Road (or so the packaging claims.) I suppose that this is one way to get your product to stand out in a field of basically identical competitors (I suspect that an untrained observer would probably find it impossible to distinguish one company’s jerky from another,) although this means that you end up paying for the name. At this particular store a 3.25 ounce package of the Harley-branded jerky costs the same price ($5.99) as a 4-ounce package of Oberto jerky. This means you’re paying roughly 19% more to have the legendary Harley Davidson logo emblazoned on your package of beef jerky. It’s clear that people will gladly pay extra money for a prestigious brand name on a lot of products when a less expensive yet functionally identical substitute is available, but what isn’t exactly clear is that people will do so for their snack foods.
There’s also the fact that of all the products that one might wish to label as “road food,” beef jerky would definitely fall somewhere on the less advisable side of the list. When you’re buying potato chips or a pack of Twizzlers, you can be reasonably certain that they didn’t scrape it off the side of the road, stick it in bags and charge $6 a pop for it, but who knows where this stuff is coming from? It’s all part of the adventure of it, I guess. And although it’s not particularly clear from the picture shown here, the display you see pictured here just happens to be in the supermarket’s beer aisle, which happens to be the last place in the supermarket (or anywhere, for that matter) that I would ever want to be finding people buying “road food.” Of course, the crusty old Harley diehards out there would probably tell you that the bugs in your teeth are the only road food you’ll ever need, but that’s beside the point.