A real biker doesn’t have a whole lot of things that say Harley Davidson on them, except his motorcycle. He doesn’t have to buy a pin at the biker rally that says, “I rode mine” cause he has nothing to prove to anyone with pins and do dads. When he gets there, he doesn’t check in at the motel, but likely the campground. His rain gear isn’t gortex or some fancy man made water shedding material, it’s leather, cause cows don’t leak.
He can tell the difference between a June bug and a Dragonfly, just by the taste. He doesn’t know what the inside of the service department of the dealership looks like, cause nobody works on his bike but him. And he knows the guy at the parts counter by first name, and probably his wife, kids and the rest. This is because they speak the same language and share the same passion.
He lives by a set of rules polite society doesn’t understand, and therefore fears. In his world, respect gets respect in return, and disrespect…is not advised. He doesn’t ride when the sun is out, he rides in the pouring rain, and the cold, and it doesn’t seem to bother him, cause any day riding is better than any day working.
He probably has tattoos, that you don’t understand, that’s alright, they are his and he doesn’t care that you don’t understand.
When you’re broken down on the side of the road, looking pitiful next to your broke down bike, he is the one that stops, and gets you running, or, if it is seriously broken, doesn’t leave you until help has arrived to get you and your scoot off the road, cause, that’s just how he rolls. He has been there, and appreciated the help once upon a time himself, and learned to pass it forward.
When you ride past him on your bike in the opposite direction and wave, like all the other RUBS (rich urban bikers), it is likely he won’t. It’s not personal, he just does’t know you. Oh, and yeah, before I forget, your not his “bro”. One things that bothers a biker more is some guy on a bike, usually at some rally or gas station somewhere with the, “hey bro” routine. His “bros” or brothers are guys he has either ridden with for years, shared road and hard times and blood with, or, are actually guys in the same club. Just because you have a bike, and he has a bike, doesn’t make you “bros”.
And, forget the gray hair, likely he is not the one you wanna mess with. To quote a real famous old biker, “treat me good, I’ll treat you better, treat me bad, I’ll treat you worse” is something a whole lot of bikers live by. Respecting him will get him respecting you, disrespecting him will probably mean a co pay on your dental plan is due.
He loves to laugh, he loves to party, and he will probably have a few strings of beads in his saddlebag for the wet t-shirt contest.
Are you offended yet? Scared off? Don’t be. It’s our world, it is kind of sealed off and hidden from you, unless you go searching it out. If you find it, watch, listen, and learn. It is hard to learn while your lips are flapping trying to impress people, and likely he is not going to be impressed, so, listen, learn, observe. Ask questions, everyone learned at some point, and there are no stupid questions. If the answer is, “I can’t talk about that” accept it and move on to another topic.
What is a biker? He is a guy that lives by a different code than most polite society will ever understand or accept. Or, as we are fond of saying. If I had to explain it to you, you probably wouldn’t understand.
He is used to profiling. While the rest of the world just started howling about how bad it is to profile certain people for this or that, it has been happening to him for decades, based only on how he looks, or perhaps the cut he is wearing. You will never hear him scream about his civil rights being violated. It’s just part of the territory and you get used to it.
Just like there is a “pirate’s code” there is also the code of the road, and he lives by it. Of course, it’s more of just a guideline.
What is a biker? Walk up to one and ask. We don’t eat on our own, we are approachable, we have families and jobs and mortgages and rent and bills just like everyone else. We are just cut from a different cloth than most.
Say hi sometime, find out, we don’t bite…unless asked.
Written by: Joe Maffei
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