10 Mar

I enjoy when a stupid thought seeps into my skull by some kind of unintentional and permanent drug-induced osmosis, and rather than dripping out my facial orifices unresolved and gross, it settles somewhere


I wondered what it is about motorized, two-wheeled vehicles makes men band together into somewhat juvenile man-clans.  Now, I’m not speaking of the Hells Angels or groups of these nature.  They all have similar temperaments and interests, namely;  gang beatings and meth. But what I noticed and what initially fueled this quandary was that all motorcyclists feel a connection with one another, and they express that by a subtle thumbs-up given to any passing cyclist (a cyclist with a motor).  When in groups, any people who own a motorcycle will inevitably gravitate to each other and spend the rest of their time in each others’ company talking about their motorcycles.   Here, in Suburbia, I see dozens of different rice-rocket bike gangs populated by 17 year olds; and I’ve seen, seemingly, well-to-do middle-aged men with inocuous names on their denim vests.  What about these things demands group I’m not trying to sound condescending, I honestly don’t know.


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