ORIGINAL: Jyoumb



i ride a bike. so what? furthermore, the amount of posts are irrelevant. an appropriate saying: "shut up and say something!"

i ride. every day. around here, in the western suburbs of chicago, there is a heirarchy of tough guys, but i only see 'em in the summer. you know the types: black tee, scruffy beard, greasy hair, big ugly boots, and unwashed filthy jeans. the guys who don't wave. the i'm a real biker, don't bother me, i'm headed to an important tough guy meeting where you're not invited. the same guys who hate rubs yet, form their own little cliques and hold their noses high in the wind...and don't wave.

it's not that i need friends, or recognition. in fact, i avoid folks on my day off and on weekends as i am surrounded by people at work all day. however, the irony stops here. if you don't ride all year---you're not a real biker. you are a poseur. is it too cold for you? do you feel silly donning a helmet and layering? do you feel unmanly not displaying your tattoos?

i still don't know what a real biker is, but it's got less to do about looking like adegenerate criminal and more aboutactually using one's bike as daily transportation and, no, i don't have a tattoo and i don't own one single piece of harley davidson inscribed clothing.

when i pass you poseurs i really don't knowwhat to feel. pity? revulsion? humor?

where are youfair weather actors?