Old bikers

Before Jesse James, TV shows, or even my exposure to the internet I was drawn to bikers. No, not the modern, hyper-stylized, my age, picture-perfect period bikers with the right shoes, rare eBay accessories on their bikes, and just the right amount of denim of today; I'm talking about bikers. Old, grizzled, initially scary, walk-with-a-limp from years of kickstarting their scooters bikers. I like those guys.

My fascination as a kid and up until five or so years ago with these characters was primarily due to the aesthetic. In a world of lemmings, they stood out because of how they looked and what they rode. I dug it. Over the past five years though I've realized what it is I really enjoy about them and why I spend increasing amounts of my time in their company.

They're fun and honorable in a peculiar way.

They don't take themselves too seriously and their versions of fun don't generally involve constraints someone else provided for them to live by. Live free or die- you've heard that one right? Well many of these old codgers do it.

Regarding the honorable thing: Whose ahead in the game here, the guy in the Porsche who drives by the old lady broken down on the side of the road, or the doesn't-have-two-cents-to-rub-together biker who stops to help?

I've probably just been fortunate in that the old guys I've gotten to know over the years have been stand-up individuals. Or maybe I really am as far off my rocker as some think, who knows?

Above are my friends Mike and Gary, two old bikers. I make a point of visiting these two a few times a month and I never regret it. Never. Along with Anthony, Jake, Josh, and Mike S., they're awful good friends and a large part of what keep me going not only with the old bikes, but in life in general. My family too, of course.

Here's to you gentlemen. I know in one way or another this song suits each of you well. I know you were all born with a tail.