Valkyrie

My 1990 Harley-Davidson XLH 883 is everything—low, loud, and alive with personality. She’s got mini ape hangers that fit me just right at 5'2".

The Screamin’ Eagle Stage 1 air intake gives her that extra bite, and after clearing out the gunked-up filter, she’s about to breathe clean and strong again.

She’s crowned with a 3D angel hood ornament—blue wings that light up like a guardian riding with me. I’ve got new…

My 1990 Harley-Davidson XLH 883 is everything—low, loud, and alive with personality. She’s got mini ape hangers that fit me just right at 5'2".

The Screamin’ Eagle Stage 1 air intake gives her that extra bite, and after clearing out the gunked-up filter, she’s about to breathe clean and strong again.

She’s crowned with a 3D angel hood ornament—blue wings that light up like a guardian riding with me. I’ve got new mirrors and passenger footpegs going on, dialing her in even more. She’s not just a bike—she’s my freedom, my fire, my rhythm on the road.

When I’m not riding, I still feel her. My mind drifts, and suddenly I’m rumbling down Main Street again—engine growling, heat rising, wind wrapping around me like she never stopped moving.