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COPYRIGHT 2003 Ehlert Publishing Group
You and me, and the rest of the 8 million motorcycle aficionados in this country, we are different from the other 270 million Americans. It is a good difference, a healthy difference, but it is often only discernible when we are actually with our motorcycles. It is not like having a big scarlet M burnt into our foreheads.
In the factory or the office, probably few people know you ride a motorcycle. You dress like the others, you talk like the others, you hang around the water cooler like the others. But when you walk out into the parking lot at the end of the day, pull the jacket and helmet out of the saddlebags, and push the starter button--you are a different person.
I became quite aware of this many years ago, when non-motorcycling friends invited me to dinner on a chilly fall day. I pulled up to the house on my Triumph, parking on the street, and was warmly greeted as I deposited my riding gear in the vestibule. Several other guests were present, also not of the motorcycling persuasion. It was an evening of good food,...
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