Not like the bikers I know
I’ve long harbored a secret desire to ride motorcycles.
Riding motorcycles is just one of a list of things I’ve envisioned doing, sorta wished I could do, but wouldn’t have the nerve. It’s up there with a gaggle of things I can’t do because I’m not a swimmer, need money, need, shall we say, better conditioning, and may or may not be too old: Jet Skiing, snorkeling, driving hot-rod cars — especially restored antique models — really fast, and parasailing, which, if you noticed, is the only thing on this wish-list-of-sorts that has anything to do with heights.
My one and only motorcycle ride was a short one a few decades ago on the back of a trike, or three-wheeler, owned by the guy who was my arranged prom date. That I had an arranged prom date should say a lot about my reality versus any adventurous fantasy pastimes. Since then, I have only watched the groups of motorcyclists who emerge on the Arkansas highways in the spring and fall … and sneaked a few admiring glances at the lined-up motorcycles I inevitably see parked in places like Little Rock’s River Market or on Central Avenue in Hot Springs.
I have several classmates and acquaintances — men and women, including a minister or two — who ride. Sometimes I’ll indulge in longing looks at their references to, and photos of, their various motorcycle treks.
Unfortunately (very deep sigh), the recent shootout among five rival bike gangs in a Waco, Texas, chain restaurant resulting in nine deaths, was a perpetuation of the image of the biker as outlaw. According to online stories, 18 people were hospitalized and about 170 were arrested. The tragedy, which supposedly started over a parking spot, was described by Waco police Sgt. W. Patrick Swanton as “probably one of the most gruesome crime scenes I’ve ever seen in my 34 years of law enforcement,” according to The Associated Press.
I know what will happen now … stereotypical images of the outlaw biker will be stoked … images stemming from fiction (movies like The Wild One or Easy Rider) and the CNN side story identifying the notorious biker gangs that federal authorities say are involved in organized crime.
So how tired of misconceptions must the average-Joe motorcycle riders be? In a world where stereotypes can so often pre-label us, I wonder if my friends and acquaintances will have to experience seeing someone cringing at the sight of them wearing their “leathers” or sporting tattoos, headbands and aerodynamic-design sunglasses.
Of course I did an Internet search. “6 Biker Stereotypes Everyone Thinks Are True,” an article on motorcycle-central.com, tells a bit about how motorcycle owners are sometimes misunderstood. Among the items on the list: “We Wear Leather to Look Cool”
(blame that on Fonzie) and “We’re All Road-Ragey Barbarians.” A blog for motorcycle enthusiasts (blog.timesunion.com) names more stereotypes: All bikers are gang members (“Heck, a few clubs are Christian based,” author Michael Henry writes). All bikers are bad people, period. All bikers have tattoos. A biker must ride a Harley.
Thinking about the stereotypes leads me to wonder
about my own motivation for admiring bikes and those who ride them. Why do we sometimes long in our hearts to do the things that we fear doing in our heads? Do I want to overcome my wimpy, sheltered right-brained-nerd upbringing, prove a point and look cool? Is there a stereotypical admiration of the stereotypical bad-boy motorcyclist lurking? Do I want to just feel the wind blowing through my hair? Guess I can always throw out the practical advantages of motorcycles. I found on yet another website:
cheaper to run, easier to repair, easier to park, harder to tow.
Whatever the motivation, maybe one day fantasy will become reality. Maybe I’ll be spotted climbing aboard a Harley (or a Honda, or a Kawasaki) in a motorcycle-riding course, on my way to earning a license. Until then I’ll keep rooting for my pals who ride. And hope that the tragedy in Waco doesn’t turn them into objects of suspicion.