Lately, I've been meeting motorcyclists who brag that they are "Real Bikers." As such, they believe they are entitled to look down upon other riders, especially newbies clad in pristine leathers and logo gear, as well as any old-timers who ride something other than an American-made hard-tail. To cut through all their posing and snobbery, I've devised a very simple litmus test that can be applied to all motorcycle riders for the purpose of determining exactly who is, and who is not, a Real Biker.
Real bikers certainly aren't identified by how long they've been riding, or how long their hair, beard or rap sheet is. The title has nothing to do with the number of tattoos or body piercings a biker sports, or whether they have a road name, or if their club colors consist of a three-piece patch. We need not count the number of ride pins or patches on their vests, or add up the total number of miles they've spent in the saddle. The Real Bikers among us are simply those few, rugged individuals who are totally committed to motorcycling, because their one and only form of motorized transportation is their bike.
It doesn't matter what kind of bike they own, or how old or new it is. The only thing that matters is that Real Bikers depend entirely upon their scoot to get them from one place to another, regardless if that exclusivity is by choice or by circumstance. It is through the monogamy of their relationship with their bike that transforms a motorcycle rider into a Real Biker.
In a fundamental sense, a Real Biker is a motorcyclist who is faithfully married to their motorcycle. Anyone possessing a transportation alternative to their bike should be considered a motorcycle hobbyist, enthusiast, weekend warrior, clubber, collector, racer, or any other motorcycle rider category, except "Real Biker."
Riders who claim to live the motorcycle lifestyle, yet also own a car, truck, van, SUV, motor home, or any other four-wheeled mistress of the open road, cannot, by said definition, be real bikers. These adulterous riders may work hard to create the facade of motorcycle monogamy by going for local rides in the rain or carrying groceries home in their saddlebags, but have only lame excuses when caught cheating with some other means of transportation. Even if a motorcycle is the only vehicle that someone actually owns, they are acting like johns whenever they commute via bus, train, rickshaw or any other public conveyance.
I have also met riders who, though they were once Real Bikers in every sense of the word, now own an additional motor vehicle that utilizes four wheels to straddle the pavement. Some of these individuals are clearly living in the past when they still envision themselves as being the real deal. Perhaps, on rare occasions, when they embark upon a motorcycle journey that's more than a day's ride from home, they may be permitted to legitimately reclaim their former title, and enjoy their short-lived feelings of biker pride.
Come to think of it, I used to be a Real Biker myself, once during my college days, and then again for a summer in Europe. These days, I'm just a polygamous geezer, sharing my affections with several motorcycles and venturing out on two wheels only as time, mood and weather permit. When the snows of winter set in, I only have eyes for my SUV. Consequently, I'm not a Real Biker. For that matter, I wouldn't want to be.
Copyright © 2003 by Mick Skolnick - All Rights Reserved.