One of the things I love about motorcycling is the camaraderie. When you meet someone else who rides, there’s an instant bond, something you share no matter what other differences you have.
For the most part though, we riders share an instant bond, which is why we wave to each other on the road. Of course some of the Harley guys won’t wave at me. You know the type. All smug about their “American” bikes (and wearing their Harley leather chaps made in Pakistan). I finally got fed up with the attitude and now I don’t wave at anyone on a Harley, even if they wave at me. Screw ‘em.
But I wave at everyone else. Even the hipsters on their chopped-up Honda CB350s. When did this trend breed among the population like a mutant ebola strain? I mean, come on, every dude with a beard management problem who hacks away at a 1970s UJM (Google it, hipsters! If you knew anything about motorcycle history beyond how to post a photo of one on Instagram, you’d know what I’m talking about!) thinks he’s an artist, now. It’s like a holocaust of 1970s crap bikes. But, what the hell, those bikes weren’t worth much anyway, so I guess it’s no big loss. I wave at them most of the time, unless I’m just tired of it and can’t be bothered.
I have respect for serious riders. The guys who pull up on dusty BMW boxers with major miles on the odometer. Of course, you have to sort out the posers. You know, the guy whose major goal for the weekend is to get a good parking spot in front of Starbucks, hoping and praying someone will notice his sticker from Kazakhstan and ask him about it.
Full hilarious article at http://www.revzilla.com/common-tread/the-motorcycling-brotherhood
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