Chapter 3

* * * * * * * * * *

On the other hand, there's The Stupidest Thing Anybody Ever Did.

I don't mean something like getting your girlfriend pregnant or invading Vietnam or creating the Edsel or any of those other things where the actual action may or may not have gone well -- and circumstances caused the result to be incredibly bad. I don't mean that.

I mean doing something that anybody would know right at the outset that this is absolutely wrong no matter what happens. Something that is just unbelievably, inexcusably wrong. Dumbness that should be beyond the human capacity for dumbness.

In 2003, the Harley Davidson Motorcycle Company celebrated its 100th birthday with a party. As you can imagine, with people from all around the world whose lives centered on owning this particular object, who wore the official costumes in public and even had corporate advertisements tattooed into their bodies, it was going to be a very committed party.

And so it went, for days and days of beer, mutual admiration and joyous conformity, until the last big event of the Greatest Party Ever for the Greatest Enthusiasts Ever for the Greatest Object Ever. It was to be a concert from an international A-list rock star. And who would it be, for a stadium full of Harley guys? An obvious first choice would be ZZ Top. Maybe the Rolling Stones. Maybe Aerosmith, or AC/DC. Maybe even George Thorogood or Bob Seger, if they couldn't get the top guys. Steppenwolf would be a great opener.

It's the big moment. The crowning event of the Biggest Biker Party Ever. The curtains open.
And who is onstage?

Elton John.