This story was published in Burnt Bridge (The Open Road issue Spring 2011)
Typical Bikers
by
Roy A. Rogers
I am a retired helicopter pilot, and now I spend a lot of time riding a Harley. My wife likes to go with me on day trips or long rides. I don’t know if we are your “typical” bikers, we just love getting out on the open road to see the scenery, smell the smells, get rained on, get sunburned, meet people, and take whatever the road throws at us.
A few years ago when I was still working, I was in West Palm Beach, Florida for few days for my job. I had to fly in commercially, so I didn’t get to ride the Harley. However, like a Typical Biker would do, I visited the Harley Shop to see how much money I could leave the good people there and how little merchandise I could leave with.
After spending my time, and my money, I crawled into my rental car to leave. Before pulling out I couldn’t help but notice three bikes and their riders in front of me, also getting ready to leave.
Even though I have been riding for years, there is something built into people making us want to judge. Is it something our parents told us in our youth, ‘don’t trust anyone different’? Is it because we want to feel superior? Or, maybe having to be cooped up in a car we are just jealous of those who aren’t.
Perhaps it’s because the ones we are judging, really don’t care what the rest of us think anyway.
But we all do judge, and there in front of me in the parking lot were five people primed for that judging. - - - the Typical Bikers.
Two of the men had the ever present beer belly. Tattoos covered their arms in their sleeveless shirts. The other man was lean, with long unkempt hair. Two women rode behind two of the men. The women looked like they could take on and beat Mike Tyson single handedly. They also had their share of tattoos proudly displayed on their bare arms and shoulders.
The group all lit their cigarettes before climbing on and, in their smugness, seemingly giving the world the finger.
They started the bikes, two with very loud mufflers, the third with no mufflers, just straight pipes. Like typical bikers they made sure everyone within a 5 mile radius knew they were getting ready to ride.
And as could be expected with that kind, no one wore a helmet.
It just so happened that as they pulled out, they were heading the same direction as I wanted to go. I pulled in behind and followed them out onto the crowded Florida highway. They soon began to pull away from me, V twins roaring, as they wove in and out of traffic -- me in my tiny rental car staying in my lane and watching them leave.
A few blocks ahead traffic was backed up at a stop light. It was very heavy traffic and suddenly I saw my three bikes zip out of the far right lane, pull ahead of other cars, and drive onto the median on the far left. I thought, ‘Typical bikers. Cutting across traffic because they can’t even wait for a red light to change’.
Then I noticed that once they got on the median they wouldn’t be able pass anyone, as the road ahead was a one way and they were going the wrong way. They surely couldn’t save time riding on the median.
It was a wide median with plenty of room for them to park, and to my surprise, they did stop and got off their bikes. What were they going to do? Pop a beer? Light up a joint right there in the middle of the road? Typical.
But what I didn’t notice until the traffic allowed me to ease a bit closer, was two cars that had collided in the opposite intersection a few moments earlier. The cars were out of the way of the heavy traffic, and while I watched, the man and woman from one bike went to one of the cars, while the other biker couple went to the other car.
They were leaning in, talking to the drivers of the wrecked cars, finding out if they were all right. The fifth biker was on his cell phone calling 911.
They helped one of the drivers out of his car and comforted the woman who remained in the other car. There was no doubt they would be waiting with those people until the police and/or ambulance arrived, putting their own interests aside until others were safe.
The traffic was thick. I was unable to stop, or even change lanes, and as I went through the light near the accident I saw that after all that time, the only people who had stopped to give aid, or even care about the fate of the “Cage” drivers, were the five people riding three Harleys.
Typical bikers.