Susan Buckland: Biker chick roars through city

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I asked a friend what he most liked about his Christmas holiday in Melbourne. He didn't hesitate. Touring around on the back of a Harley- Davidson.

It was a blast, he said. And the driver was a hard case. The driver sounded a bit like Bill, the leather-clad bikey who roared me round Canberra on the back of his monster machine.

He was among a gang of eight who had thrummed up to the hotel door to take me and my colleagues on an alfresco sightseeing trip.

Take your pick from the eight of us, the leader of the Harley-Davidson gang had invited. Choose your man.

An awkward moment. It would have been unseemly to turn the selection process into a teenage dance class with the girls, in this case, lunging for the best-looking boys. The medals piercing Bill's leather jacket flashed in the sun and the bandanna around his head caught my eye.

He proved his worth early on. As soon as the Harley-Davidson team of drivers and passengers throbbed out to the Canberra highway, my man accelerated and took the lead.

I raised a thumb to let him know it felt beaut on the back of the bike. The wind blew my hair out behind and filled my mouth. We braced for the open road ahead.

"Say Gidday to Canberra," shouted Bill as we sped along. He nodded in the direction of Mt Ainslie above the city. "We're going up there for a bird's eye."

Bandanna Bill was a gentleman under the hard-case exterior. When we pulled to a stop on Mt Ainslie he helped me out of the leather jacket, helmet and gloves that are part of the tour clobber.

Bill had been a policeman, television news editor and aspiring politician. He got pipped at the polls. Time, he decided, to concentrate on restoring Harley-Davidsons, furniture - and doll's prams.

But it's the Harleys that have stirred his passion, ever since his police force days. He loves being able to show people around town on his bike which gleams with TLC.

Twenty-three senators travelled for seven years to find the right place to build Australia's capital. In 1911, Canberra was declared the national seat. Planned to perfection by American Walter Burley Griffin, Canberra has an uphill job convincing everyone that it has soul.

Nevertheless, the air is clean, there is no heavy industry, few neon lights (but plenty of good restaurants), 10 golf courses and four universities. From Mt Ainslie Bill pointed out the new National Museum of Australia.

"The designers liked your Te Papa in Wellington and now we're stuck with a post-modernist museum," said Bill, revealing more of his general knowledge with a wry smile.

The Australian War Memorial rose from the end of Anzac Parade and we could see New Zealand's commemorative bronze arches reaching out like companion arms on the approach.

In Anzac Hall the names of New Zealand soldiers are among the thousands on the roll of honour at the War Memorial.

To wrap up the ride around town we toured a leafy and expensive suburb full of embassies. Then Bill shouted above the rumble of the Harley.

"All we need is a big bag of money and we could just keep on going."

The intoxicating prospect was delivered with a roar of acceleration. And I savoured the last moments of being a sheila on the back of Bill's bike.