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Tuesday 23 July 2013

Men and They're Motorcycles and a Little Name Dropping - Pete

On a recent trip to Quebec City I had a thought about motorcycles. They really are an extension of ones self image. I saw a bunch of Harley's and Harley guys and girls. One thing that struck me was they seemed to shun any safety gear. In fact one guy I passed had shorts and flip flops on. From a distance it looked like he was wearing leather but as I closed the distance I realized it was his very tanned skin. As my buddy Art would say "skin like your mothers purse". 



The next group would be the touring bike guys. They usually come as a set. The guy driving and his better half. She typically looks extremely comfortable on the back with out a care in the world. This is either a testament to her unquestioning faith in big daddy or some type of sedation. Having ridden on the back of my friend Doug's Ninja years ago, I am sure there must be pharmaceutical agents on board.



The crotch rocket guys (90% are guys) are segmented in two groups. The guys with the very new very sweet looking race bred bikes, with matching kick ass racing gear. This not only affords the dude unreal protection but looks cool as hell. The second segment has an older model crotch rocket with some sort of leather jacket. Not as slick looking but certainly better than shorts and the flip flops.




The Japanese cruiser guys are a mixed bag. From jeans and work gloves to pseudo Harley wear. I am not a cruiser guy so I really don't study this species closely.

The classic British bike crew are usually fairly affluent (have to be to keep them running) they usually are kitted up in very stylish British bike wear and always sport goggles.



The final group to which I belong is the adventure bike squad. We all believe we are Les Stroud. In fact I sent Survivor Man a picture of El Diablo with a Survivor Man sticker on the faring. I was pumped when Les's assistant informed me the picture was posted on Les's face book page. Now all I need is a Facebook page. 

We adventure types like to  wear full face helmets, gloves, Olympia Motosport riding jackets and pants and boots that look like something from a Michael Jackson video circa Thriller. We are a hardy lot that can camp any where, drink beer with the natives (right Dwight) and eat Vienna sausages out of the can ( Terry informs me it ain't a party in Newfoundland with out these mini hotdogs). We like to adorn our rides with aluminum boxes for luggage that easily un clips from the luggage rack. This is of course to protect the gear inside from bandits and wayward bears (never to make it more convenient when checking into a hotel because we shun this comfort unless its too hot or too cold or too wet or too dry or we ran out of ice or...  you get it).







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