A couple of months ago, I purchased a scooter. I’d never driven a motorcycle before, but this seemed a good way to learn, and escape from high gas prices. It’s a nice bike – new, bright red, solidly built, 70 mpg, and great fun. And scooters are significantly less expensive than motorcycles. Most motorcycle accidents happen in a rider’s first 6 months, so if your going to wreck, might as well wreck something less expensive. What can I say? The button down conformism I had been trapped in had to give way to freedom and testosterone.
Now I’ve discovered bikers have something of a club among themselves. Car drivers don’t usually notice, but most bikers wave to one another as they pass along the road. A secret handshake of comraderie. They have discovered the great liberation of shedding the minivans and SUVs for leather and chrome.
Unfortunately, when a biker comes upon me, I evoke the image, less of Ghost Rider, and more of Lloyd and Harry from Dumb and Dumber.
Made a deal with the devil…
The scooter just is not as cool as a full size motorcycle. I don’t look dangerous or rebellious against society’s rules. I look like a frugal grad student on his way to class. Thus, more often than not, the bikers ignore me. Or I catch their glance, then they look away and probably throw up in their mouths just a little bit. Because I’m not one of them. A few do wave, but most do not. I learned early on not to initiate a wave. Nothing more irritating than a dumb white kid giving a big wave from his scooty-scoot to a leather clad hell’s angel.