There is a German proverb that says: Anticipation is the best part of the joy. Well, that is rubbish. While I am waiting for my new Rocket 3r, I probably have watched every Rocket-related Youtube video a dozen times, while becoming increasingly nervous in anticipation.
I am not a cruiser guy. My rides have been more on the sporty side and my playground are the Alps, preferably the Dolomites. Why then buy a 320kg beast of a motorcycle? Having test ridden the new Rocket, I expect it to handle the mountain passes well enough, while being fun on the way to the Alps. But that is not the point. Buying a Rocket cannot be rationalized, because the Rocket is the most irrational motorcycle of all motorcycles.
I think the Rocket 3 is a category of its own, if defies comparison. It is probably also the last of its kind, the biggest and badest fire-breathing horse we can own before we all must drive and ride electric. Petrolheads like me are also the last of our kind, an anachronism, ill-fitting into the sensitive, considerate, well-meaning and inclusive modern times.
Motorcycling should not end with a whimper, but with a bang. That is why the Rocket exists and that is why I must own one.