100% Biker 174

100% Biker 174
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So continuing with last issue’s theme of discrimination against bikers…

As anyone who’s been riding a bike for any time will know, this country (and by that I mean the UK, not just England… or Scotland) has had for years an inbuilt distrust of people on motorcycles, going back, I think, to the heady days of the Mods and Rockers battles of the late ’60s. The thing is, Mods and Rockers was 40-plus years ago and that means that, even if the same people were still about, they’d be in their 60s and 70s now; hardly an age where they’re going be raising hell, is it?

Most of us who ride bikes these days are over 40, and while we still like a drink, the days of getting legless and picking fights with anyone who even looks at us funny are long gone. Hell, given the fact that we’re old, and a lot of us are on medication of one sort or another, if we’re out and about we don’t even drink heavily any more, especially if we’ve got to ride the next day—the massive, and very successful, push to demonise drink driving over the past 20-odd years has made most of us wary of swinging a leg over our bikes early in the morning if we’ve had a beer after midnight.

This is why I find it strange, and fcuking annoying, when events like those I mentioned last issue happen. If that B&B in Mallaig had allowed us to stay they’d’ve found that we were polite, courteous and friendly. I read in an American mag years ago that  ‘you’ve got to be open and friendly on a bike… cos there ain’t nowhere to hide if they start shooting at you’ and, apart from the gun bit obviously, they’re right; in Joe Public’s eyes, reinforced by years of bullshit on TV and in films, we look scary and we all know what happens when someone’s scared of something, don’t we? They either run away from it or try and kill it…

Yes, we would’ve gone out for a beer or two, but with a boat leaving at 7.45am that’s all it’d’ve been—a beer or two, not lots. Look at us. We (and I don’t just mean me an’ ’im) are old now; we’re short-haired, we’re not strangers to a fish supper (and, yes, I do mean we’re fat), we make a noise when we sit down, and we’re so grey we almost (almost…) look distinguished. We are not, and I cannot stress this enough, likely to trash your B&B, okay?