The milder autumn air brings out the Peter Fonda in Harley owners, especially when it's Sunday. Sunday's the day that men with a gut and a dream fire up the iron horse and join a few buddies for a drive around, just for the hell of it. And why not? The sound of that slow-revving vee-twin, the feel of the air through one's bald spot, the companionship - what better way to celebrate the land of liberty than to exercise one's freedoms and drink some beer.
Unfortunately, the land of liberty also houses the dark side of freedom, which is entitlement. In the case of Harleyistas, they all think they're entitled to disregard generally accepted rules of the road, and do whatever the fuck they feel like.
Groups of them chug along in the fast lane at 30 mph. Larger groups chug along blocking all the lanes. Pairs of them flip bitches (do U-turns) wherever and whenever they choose. Bunches of them have long, tedious conversations at stop lights, then take ten minutes to acknowledge the green, pull the clutch, find first, rev a little, gently ease the clutch....oh, and look, the sodding light's red again.
The ubiquity of bumper stickers urging us to "watch for motorcycles" evidences either their popularity or the fact that cars run them over. A lot. My money's on the latter. It's dangerous to be out there in anything but an automobile, and emergency rooms and graveyards are full of individuals proving it. But these latter-day Easy Riders don't help themselves by behaving so poorly. I applaud them having a fun day out, if that constitutes their pursuit of freedom. Their disregard of everyone else, however, dissipates the goodwill from people like me who use the road to make a living.
So, my dear two-wheel enthusiast, when you and your mates are cruising down the Skyway Bridge, ten abreast at twenty under the minimum, don't be surprised if I exercise a little of my own freedom and rub your back tire with my bumper. It's all good, right? And if the thought of that doesn't please you, move over and let me through. The thought of having to clean pieces of your pancreas outta my tread doesn't make me that happy either.
Hit a Hog Day. That's what Sunday should be called.
Also published here.
4 comments:
Haha, Nitebyrd, I'm inclined towards the a latter, although both your arguments have lots of merit.
Funny thing is that I completely support the right of Hogmen and Hogwomen to do whatever they want, within the law. But when they start to impinge on everyone else's life just because they have that LOOK AT ME attitude, it starts to grate.
This weekend I was driving in the California hills - great motorcycle country! Two incidents stick in my mind; the first is a guy passing our truck in a no passing zone one this narrow, twisty two lane road. My wife said "Bet he scared his girl friend to death" as she was on the bike as well.
The second is when a group of maybe 20 bikes came toward us; same type of narrow two lane road. The first guy was alone in the lane but he had his footpegs over the dividing line in my lane. I'm in a 6,000 lb truck; he's on an 800 lb bike. Guess who's going to win. All I could do was cry "ASSHOLE!!!".
Lots of bikers are hurt because of car drivers but lots do it to themselves. I don't feel sorry for them either.
where are the cops when y'all need them, sugar? xoxoxo
You're spot on there, Don. The scaring the g/friends appears to be a big part of biker culture. Still, if the sheila's foolish enough to ride pillion with a moron....
I can picture your scene. Oh, man, does that business of riding on the line so as to effectively straddle two lanes grate my cheese (esp on a two-lane road).
It's all so stoopid and unnecessary. Remember, in the road game, 6,000 lbs always wins over 800. Which is just as it should be. :-D
Sugar, that is a good question. They're likely hiding out under bridges trying to catch hard-working limo drivers doing 3 mph over the limit. :-(
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