I’ve looked at myself a lot this Bike Week; I’ve looked at my fellow bikers too. We’re old, the lot of us. The band members are old; the bikers are old; the event itself is old. I’ve experienced two tragicomedic events this Bike Week that let me know that I have progressed into Geezerdom: When I was in my 20s and 30s, hell even into my 40s, I would blithely greet my ancient elders (people in their 50s and 60s and older) with “Hello, young man (woman)!” Well, as I was shuffling along on my cane at the Iron Horse one of the staff, a guy who was probably in his 30s or 40s, looked up at me and said, “Hey, how’s it going, young man?” Aw, hell. Then I was talking with a fellow biker on Main Street, and we lamented that we grew too damn tired to take full advantage of the event anymore, that we weren’t the spry young men we used to be. He mentioned his age of 45...I told him I turn 60 this month and he looked at me with awe and said, quietly and with great emphasis, “Good for you!” In other words, damn hell this old geezer’s still riding! Yes, I’ve joined the Cane Brigade, the growing army of older bikers who can outride the youngsters but who can’t walk worth a damn when off of their machines. But, damn hell, this old geezer’s still riding...
Posted on: Fri, 14 Mar 2014 09:22:01 +0000
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