Boxer Shorts, June, 2004 - 2 of 4
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The good, the bad, and the ugly.
When I first laid eyes on Dan Miley's photo I just had to see it on the cover of our Shorts. It just tickles me to no end to see these beautiful children, seeped in innocence, happy to play for the camera. They know we love them. Too bad the same can't be said of the general public's attitude toward motorcyclists at large. We have it coming to us. Mind you, I'm grouping us with every two-wheeler on the road: the loud, the reckless, the narcissistic poseur of bad attitude. I hear loud pipes roaring down my street and I cry out loud: "there goes the sound of a deaf-to-be ass, placing most emphasis on that last word.
When I rode astride a BMW K75, I once had a lady walk up to me at a gas station and say, "Thank you for not making so much noise." I kid you not. You know, loud pipes don't come from the factory that way. I'm sure there is an archaeologist somewhere writing a book on these archetypes, the loud majority who inspire so much negative responses. It's bad, and it's ugly.
Let's talk about the good. Things like the cover photo. It reminded me of how kids respond to me as I ride pass. Young people wave to me from the back seat of cars, from nickel lemonade stands, from bicycles. And most recently, I had a girl, about 8 years old, flash me the peace sign from the seat of a black Mercedes SL roadster convertible. I get a kick out of it every time and I always try to wave back if my hands aren't too busy clutching or braking. I give my horn two short beeps. I have seen mothers point me out to their toddlers, "look, a motorcycle!" This happens to me a lot, and I'm sure I'm not alone in this experience.
Evidently, motorcyclists know how to make good impressions, too. I also have noticed how young guys, usually working a job that is a bit humiliating, nodding to me as I ride by, wanting to make a connection with something, but just what? Motorcycles are cool, that's what. Maybe they inspire pride, or a belief in the self. Maybe strangers respond to the independence, the "doing your own thing," to coin a 60's phrase. They too want to get on top of the machine and buck the status quo. And the delivery vehicle that will take away the tedium from the over-aged pizza delivery man doesn't have to be a motorcycle necessarily. But we're everywhere, so our symbolism is rampant; the bike as symbol for human potential. This is a good thing.
And I love seeing a kid on a sidewalk just staring at you; you can feel the gears of his daydream turning toward the future.
It's men in their 30s and 40s mowing the lawn who I worry about most. I'm talking about the guys who come up to me and say, "I used to own a bike but my wife won't allow it." These guys have lost something, something fundamental to their own sex, and walk through life in a diminutive state almost like the unborn. They have seemingly lost touch with their inner child. And this is a bad thing.
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