The Biker

indian george

indian george

Joined
Feb 15, 1999
Messages
11,566
This was just sent to me:eek: . Boy, does it hit the bones.:cool:
THE BIKER
I saw you hug your purse closer to you in the grocery store line.
But you didn't see me put an extra $10.00 in the collection plate last Sunday.
I saw you pull your child closer when we passed each other on
the sidewalk.
But you didn't see me playing Santa at the local mall.
I saw you change your mind about going into the restaurant.
But you didn't see me attending a meeting to raise more money
for the hurricane relief.
I saw you roll up your window and shake your head when I
drove by.
But you didn't see me driving behind you when you flicked
your cigarette butt out the car window.
I saw you frown at me when I smiled at your children.
But you didn't see me when I took time off from work to run
toys to the homeless.
I saw you stare at my long hair.
But you didn't see me and my friends cut ten inches off for
Locks of Love.
I saw you roll your eyes at our leather coats and gloves.
But you didn't see me and my brothers donate our old coats
and gloves to those that had none.
I saw you look in fright at my tattoos.
But you didn't see me cry as my children where born and have
their name written over and in my heart.
I saw you change lanes while rushing off to go somewhere.
But you didn't see me going home to be with my family.
I saw you complain about how loud and noisy our bikes can be.
But you didn't see me when you were changing the CD and
drifted into my lane.
I saw you yelling at your kids in the car.
But you didn't see me pat my child's hands, knowing he was
safe behind me.
I saw you reading the newspaper or map as you drove down the
road.
But you didn't see me squeeze my wife's leg when she told me
to take the next turn.
I saw you race down the road in the rain.
But you didn't see me get soaked to the skin so my son could
have the car to go on his date.
I saw you run the yellow light just to save a few minutes of
time.
But you didn't see me trying to turn right
I saw you cut me off because you needed to be in the lane I
was in.
But you didn't see me leave the road.
I saw you waiting impatiently for my friends to pass.
But you didn't see me. I wasn't there.
I saw you go home to your family.
But you didn't see me.
Because, I died that day you cut me off.
I was just a biker. A person with friends and a family.
But you didn't see me.

Repost this around in hopes that people will understand the
biker community.

If you don't repost this, It sucks to be you. I hope you
never loose someone that rides. Have a great week, my friends
 
Good post! Thanks Bro:thumbup: People tend to see what they want to and in the process miss out on a lot of the good life.

Fred

I start in Bloomington next Wednesday.
 
forwarded this to my dad, who just got his first motocycle as an early 52nd birthday present to himself. He's not sure if he likes it yet, because he's so unused to riding a bike, and he's nervous to ride around other vehicles still.
 
Yep. :thumbup: :thumbup: :thumbup:

I have had two really close calls on my bike in the last couple of years. In both cases it happend to be a woman talking on a cell phone who turned right in front of me. I don't think either one of them ever knew I was there or how close we came even though I had it locked up and skidding toward the car.
 
Brother George I hear ya, lookin' like a cross between Jerry Garcia and Grizzly Adams on a sled I've been judged my whole life by my looks, people walk on the other side of the street when I'm out, I usually ride elevators alone.

I once scared a guy so bad at an atm that he took his cash and left the card in the atm with the screen askin' if he wanted another transaction, I pulled his card out and walked over to his car to give him his card back and he rolled up the windows and locked the doors.

It wasn't until I walked in front of his car and put his card under his windshield wiper that he realized what was goin' on and he was still too scared to even acknowledge me or say thanks.

You know who aren't afraid of us, little kids, they haven't been told how evil bikers really are:rolleyes: .

I grew up ridin' got my first bike at 7 it was an imported Suzuki 2 stroke 150cc street bike. I haven't stopped ridin' since.

My old man used to say the difference between a biker and an enthusiast is when your eatin' up blacktop and it starts to rain the enthusiast thinks about pullin' over waitin' for the weather to clear go home and plan the ride for a better day, while the biker just says, oh well and rides on.:D

To bugs in yer teeth Indian George.
 
Back Off what one rides...I know... a "Bic Lighter", but Damn IG that is to close to too true too often.....Thanks!
If you don't ride always defensively, there isn't even a chance.....
 
I gave up riding 30 years ago for all of these reasons. Lots of close misses and being run off the road.The final straw was when I had my bike wedged under a ladies car after she pulled out from a stop sign in front of me. She was PO'ed at ME for hitting her car. I pointed out she was at a STOP sign. She said ,"I stopped. Its not my fault I didn't see you." One of my real good friends lost his right leg the same way about two weeks later. I quit riding.
Stacy
 
1970- Sitting at a red light with the bike at idle, watching the old guy behind me in the big gold Chrysler. I new he was coming by how tightly his hands griped the steering wheel. When the light turned green his foot went to the floor. He was trying to do the world a favor and get rid of another biker.

I was faster. Fred
 
Yep!! In my younger days, people would
think that I was a badass, with all the Tats on my HD or Indian and in a M/C Club. :D Now
they just think that, I am a crazy Oleman with Tats. HEHEHEHEHE!!!
 
To tell you the truth, I've never had a problem at all with the guys riding Harley's or cruisers. Even when you see the HA's around here, they are usually pretty polite on the road. What pisses me off is the 20-somethings with ricers that pull up right in your blind spot (about 3-4' behind my drivers side tail light). I've almost side-swiped a couple of them that tried to blow by me when I signaled to change lanes (because I couldn't see them behind me). Courtesy and respect run both ways.
 
I'm not a biker.

My last ride was an old, off-road Husqvarna in the 60s. I laid it down on the way home and did my leg a real injury. You can imagine my mother's reaction!

Regardless, I haven't really been on a bike since. My loss.

Being afraid of people because they look different is no way to live. I learned this lesson growing up in the old, rural central valley of California (San Joaquin). Maybe it's just an instinctive reaction to anything that's different, but this is one instinct we should struggle against.

Live your life as you choose. Not that you need me to tell you that.
 
I'll tell you the best Hog story you ever heard.
I was great friends with an old couple in Spring Grove,VA (rural area) that was in their 80's when they died. There were two old Indian Chieftains in the barn. One had the front end folded under, and the other looked good, but didn't run. Claude was a 5'4" German married to Miss Agnes, a 6' Swede. They had only a motorcycle in their early days. During the war (WW2) Claude worked in Portsmouth,VA, as a motor winder. He rode the Indian from the farm to work every day (40-50 miles) on Rt 10, at full throttle. He burned the first one up and got a new one just before the war ended. After the war,he quit riding, went back to farming, and bought a truck. In the late 60's the granddaughter of a neighbor was at the farm ,getting milk and eggs. She saw the bikes in the barn and was impressed. Now Claude was near 70 and the girl was a stunning 18. She was (according to Miss Agnes) wearing a handkerchief for a top and half a pair of shorts (IG and I both remember the 60's styles well....but I digress.). He asked her if she wanted a ride. Of course she did. He got the bike running ( he occasionally rode it around the farm, but hadn't licensed it in 20 years), and the gal got on the back. She got a good grip on Claude and he took off for Smithfield at full throttle. Things were going great until they were coming around one of the long curves on Rt.10 and a HOG (pig) ran out across the road. The Indian hit the Hog and when they woke up they were in the middle of a corn field. The bike's front end was trashed, the pig was dead, Claude broke a leg, and the girl broke her collar bone. The really bad part was it was seven hours later when a truck brought them (and the bike) home from Obici Hospital. Now, Miss Agnes was a sweet lady, and she had grudgingly let Claude take that young thing on a ride, but when that old truck brought them back to the farm, his leg was the least of his problems. The bikes sat in the barn until the day he died. I had tried to get him to sell them to me for years, and he always said he would give them to me when he was ready to let them go. Claude died in the early 80's and when I went to get the bikes from the farm , his heir (I was a good friend of hers) looked at me with shock. She said," I sold them to a kid up the road for $20. I didn't think they were worth anything."
Stacy
 
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