What is it with women and bad boys on motorcycles — including college boys with pretensions to being bad? A conundrum of my youth. Yes, I understood the appeal of a Marlon Brando or James Dean with a big thrumming machine between his legs, but why did the women I knew prefer riding on a Honda with a spotty-faced dork to sharing existential insights with me? I should, I realize now, have bought a Honda, even the 50cc variety.