Saturday, January 10, 2009

I don't like bike night, because....

,I’m gonna get a rant going here today. I’ve been thinking about what is commonly known as “bike nights”. These, for the uninitiated, are nights set aside at eateries and local watering holes for bikers to ride up with their motorcycles, have a special place in the lot for them to park their bikes, and to be “catered” to by the staff and patrons of said business.

I don’t like bike nights. I guess I don’t like them because somewhere in the communal thread of life, before Forbes and Elizabeth Taylor made motorcycling chic…we weren’t welcome at these same establishments. The only business’s that accepted a group of us, were ones that were established as “hole in the wall” business’s. It’s not that we didn’t have the money to go to a finer establishment; it’s that we were not looked upon favorably. Not because our behavior was disruptive, (although at times, I must admit we did become loud and exuberant) but because the business would not give us the opportunity to establish ourselves as respectable members of the community within their walls. The people who rode in my circle were varied. One was a meat cutter for Publix, his ole lady was head cashier. Another owned a manufacturing business; he made the sleeves that you wrap cut flowers in. His girlfriend worked in the geek business for Harris Corp. I’m not sure exactly what she did for a living…but she earned a good living. Me? I was a parts manager at the local HD dealership, my hubby was the lead mechanic…yes, back then they didn’t need fancy names…we didn’t call a mechanic a technician, he was exactly what he was, a wrench twister. Our boss would frequently ride with us…yes, the owner of HD of Melbourne. Then we had a few construction workers, and even a few guys from the AF Base nearby who we enjoyed company with. Now, as you can see, we were a varied bunch. We weren’t convicts; we rode nice baggers, custom choppers, and factory bikes. We all worked, had money in our pockets, our clothing was clean, (even if our thoughts weren’t!) We would ride, we would stop to eat, have a few beers, then ride some more. But we were never really welcome at places like Hooters until Forbes made us “respectable.”

Now, it seems, we are welcome on certain nights…we are fussed over, and made to feel like we are special patrons. I don’t get that, I would rather you liked me every night. I would like to feel special every night I stop in your place. If not special, than I would at least like to be waited on like everyone else in the place. I do not wish to be ignored, I do not wish to be looked down upon, I do not wish to be placed at the worst table in the restaurant, and I do not want my bike regulated to an unlit and unprotected portion of your parking lot, if you offer protected parking for us on “special” nights. You should always offer safe parking for the bikes.

Then we have the kind of people who actually attend bike nights. For the most part, from what I have experienced, many more of these people have bikes they do not ride except to bike night, or to a few local charity rides, perhaps a fifty mile ride with someone from their office. They are there not to meet up, enjoy some company, discuss where they are going to ride to from there, perhaps eat something and have a few liquid refreshments anticipating the ride ahead. Instead, these people come to these establishments, and strut around their bikes, beer in hand, talking BS about bikes, but never really going anywhere. Never really using the machine for what it is intended for…riding! Yeah, they are chick magnates…. But your not regulated to staying at just one place in order to attract a decent woman…get varied. Leave your comfort zone and ride a couple hundred miles on your day off. Stop in at cool places on your route, invite a few of those people you see at the bike nite hot spot to join you. You can even end your ride right back where you started, at the business that is hosting your local “bike night”. You can dance the rest of evening away, you can regale your friends at the bar who didn’t take their bikes out for an afternoon delight…with the adventures you and your buddies experienced…talk about the gals you encountered along the way…or hug close to you the one you picked up at the last place you visited before you arrived back at your bike night host’s business. But at least you got your ass off the barstool, and went somewhere on that very expensive pussy magnate. And if you’re a gal who goes to bike nights just to socialize rather than ride her bike…shame on you…big shame on you…RIDE YOUR ASSES OFF….and then come back to your bike night host: stiff, sore, tired, hungry, thirsty…and ready to laugh and recount the best parts of the day!
That’s my take of bike nights.