I am not a Biker

As the saying goes this time of year, hope springs eternal. To a certain segment of our population, that spring hope brings something a bit louder. Yes, of course, I’m talking about those folks who zig-zag across our picturesque New England landscape and beyond on two and three wheels: Bikers!

You may have a preconceived notion about bikers. Maybe you see them as being all leather, bandanas, long hair, chain-drive wallets, tattoos, and attitude. They catch grasshoppers in their teeth, flip off the cops, encourage their female passengers to expose themselves, and shake the ground with their loud exhaust pipes and hard rock music. Just a band of delinquent rebels, hellbent on getting this short life over with even quicker.

Well, I own a motorcycle, and I’m here to set the record straight, but don’t get me wrong, I am no biker. I wear a helmet and safety gear, I don’t have any tattoos, my hair is short, my wallet is untethered, and I actually swapped the exhaust pipes out on my first motorcycle in favor of quieter pipes. I respect the police and prefer country music. So, why would I risk my hard-earned reputation as a decent citizen by joining these rebels on two wheels? As you might expect, there’s a story to that.

I had always been afraid of motorcycles, since the margin for error―should anything go awry―is very small. My brother, Peter, on the other hand, has been cruising on two wheels since he was a teenager. In his forties, he got his first Harley, and took his first step toward becoming a biker. A few years later, he joined a local Harley Owners Group (H.O.G.) sponsored by a Concord, NH Harley-Davidson dealer. It was soon after that my thoughts changed about riding a motorcycle, and about bikers.

The more I heard about the organized rides, efforts for local charities, and camaraderie this group shared, the more curious I became. After attending some functions at the dealership and a gathering at a member’s home, my own picture of what being a biker was all about refocused.

Even more compelling than that was the change I saw in my brother, who had never expressed interest in joining a group before. While being a personable guy, he tended to follow his own path, and seemed more comfortable by himself or with (very) small gatherings. At times, I grew concerned that he had too much alone time, so when I discovered he not only belonged to a large group, but also was an avid participant, well, you can imagine how my curiosity turned to genuine intrigue.

I was a late bloomer on the motorcycle scene, obtaining my motorcycle license in 2016, at the tender age of forty-nine, and there was much studying and practicing before I took my test. My first bike was a Harley soft-tail, with the aforementioned loud pipes. The first four-mile round trip I took on that bike was equal parts thrilling and nerve-wracking. I’d conquered one of my fears, and began a new way to enjoy life. Still, I wasn’t sure I wanted any part of joining a group of bikers, with all the stigma that followed. While I knew my brother to be a good person, I still held my own misguided notions as to bikers as a whole. Those concerns turned out to be baseless.

At the first Harley Owners Group (H.O.G.) meeting I attended, I discovered a group of folks just like any other. They were blue collar, white collar, moms, dads, teachers, and veterans. There were elected officers, bylaws, and a code of conduct. Discussions ranged from organizing rides, to helping veterans, to proper riding techniques, safety, educating the public, and even honoring police officers. When I joined my first group ride, we cruised along at safe speeds and in proper staggered formation, following a ride leader and adhering to rules and regulations. At periodic rest stops, folks talked about jobs, family, hobbies, and any number of topics one might discuss at the office water cooler or backyard BBQ. After reaching our predetermined destination, people offered handshakes, back slaps, and hugs to celebrate another successful ride, and to wish each other continued safe riding and good times.

Yes, there is a lot of leather. People have tattoos, but no more than anyone from any other walk of life. Some folks don’t wear helmets, preferring to feel the wind through their hair. It’s all part of being free and alive, and has nothing to do with any sort of statement or shunning of societal values. We are caring individuals who enjoy getting out there and seeing the world through a windshield, versus on a phone screen or TV. The friendships formed are real and lasting. This is a big family of regular people who are doing their thing, and encouraging others to also be themselves. Do we all agree on everything? Hell no, but what family ever does? There are disagreements and varying opinions, but also a respect for individual freedom. That’s the heart of this group of people, all gathering to share a love for a common activity while carrying on through this thing called life. I have their back and they have mine, and I feel fortunate to be among their ranks.

Hmmm, maybe I am a biker, after all.

Thanks for tuning in again, people. I hope you’ve gained a better understanding and improved opinion of bikers. And if my words have entertained you and made you think, please invite a friend to sign up for my weekly blog, even if they aren’t a biker 😉

Oh, and one PSA before I go:

I’m sure you’ve seen a bunch of us on the road already this year, and while we are a motor vehicle just like you’re driving, it’s not always easy to spot our profile among the cars and trucks. It would be great if you could check your mirrors twice for my brothers and sisters. Trust me, we keep our eyes peeled also, but if we can all work together, we’ll enjoy our rides and arrive home safe after. Thanks, buddy.

Until next week, whatever you are, be a good one.

-Dave