Walk the Talk

Bikers: rough looking, scary, tough, loud, with a lot of black and jean merging in their wardrobe. I’ve been watching bikers all the way back to the six-year-old recesses of my eyes; I’ve always been fascinated with what I’ve seen. I gravitate toward them. It’s evolved from friends at my mother’s work, to people I’d meet while working in Myrtle Beach, to being pulled toward Murrells Inlet, S.C., where I can really breathe the essence of bikerdom.

I love the sound; I love the smell; I love the loud laughter from a friendly group or the loud shouting from an angry one; I love the way a smoking tire acts like a dinner bell and pulls the masses toward it; I love the beer tub babes at a rally; I love confident biker mommas in too little clothing, but all of that  listed so far only contributes to the personae of being a biker, it wasn’t until recently that I was able to brag about loving the true components of being a biker: the motorcycle.

For my biker life there are two parts: the life of a back seat rider and the life of a rider. When I was a back seat rider, I was completely consumed with the outward appearance of being a biker: wearing the clothes, hanging at the right places, using the right jargon and interestingly enough, I wasn’t alone. There are quite a few grown, biker affirming men out there who lace up their Harley Davidson boots just to ride to the bar a mile down the road. This is where you’ll see a lot of the camaraderie I mentioned earlier, and there is a great time to be had, but there are true biker gems in every crowd. There is likely a quiet man (or woman) somewhere in there that just finished putting a hundred or so miles on their bike for the day. Miles of road they’ve done many times, but they keep doing it, because nothing feels as good as that road does to their soul.

Being on the back of a motorcycle taught me how to relax and be myself, how to get off the bike and walk up with confidence to whoever I was meeting. It showed me a great time, and allowed me a treasure trove of memories. I never felt “cooler” than when I was in that crowd. It’s at that those moments I completely understood Michelle Pfeiffer’s fascination with having a “Cool Rider” in the movie Grease 2.Yet, every  aspect of being a biker changed once I was on the front and in control.

When I pull into a crowd now I’m not looking around at everyone checking the scene, being seen, I’m eyeing the parking lot looking for a piece of it that will work with my skill level. As a back seat rider, I’d love to go through town, slow, stop at lights, and watch people look at me. Now, I’d rather be on the open road with my feet up on the crash bars enjoying that feeling of perfect freedom radiating through me.  As a back seat rider, if someone wasn’t on a Harley, they weren’t anything; they weren’t a real biker. This was my ignorant view of bikers.  I knew nothing of the skill. I was very small minded about what I claim to love so much…but I’ve learned.

A year ago I took the motorcycle safety class. The moment I finished that class I knew I wasn’t ready for a Harley. It wasn’t about looking cool anymore; it was about being cool. And to be cool, keeping the bike upright is always a plus, no accidents, and make the maneuvers look smooth.  For this, I needed a bike that I could maneuver through endless traffic and parking scenarios. Since then I’ve maneuvered my red Honda Shadow Spirit 750 (I call her Cherry, she’s red, and my first) through two rallies in Daytona and four days of pure mountain riding, along with many miles on the roads of the Lowcountry. I’ve done fairly well; I’ve been humble; I’ve gone slow; I ask for help when I need it; and I’m surrounded by seasoned bikers, with very fast Harleys, who are willing to wait and teach whenever I need it.

I have let go of the stigma of needing to be a Harley owner. I know a  lot of people out there still subscribe to it, and I’m sure they will bust on me here and there as our paths cross, but as a beginner,  I need to look at the rider I am, and  go with what I am comfortable doing. I will have Cherry for a while longer as I still have some slow tight turns to work out. So until I learn how to be my motorcycle’s master, I’ll keep my head humble and my feet ready to plant, shift, or brake.