Something unexpected pops up while I'm riding bitch on a motorcycle: an erection. I'm on the first run of the season to Cold Spring, New York, with members of the City Cruisers, one of two gay motorcycle clubs in New York City. It's a cool, gray morning as seven motorcycles make their way past groups of spandexed bicyclists along Route 9W toward a leisurely lunch in the sleepy Hudson River Valley hamlet. The frequent stopping and starting—first in city traffic, then at traffic signals—lends a sexual rhythm to trying to hold on to the 600-pound street Harley and the black-jacketed driver in front. Each jerk of the brake brings crotch to ass and makes hanging on during white-knuckle acceleration an absurd Kegel-style exercise in trying not to slide off the end of the... More >>>