T. GAMBLE: Motorcycle bad boys have grown old

I’m trying to figure out what in the world happened to the world of motorcycles. When I was kid, most folks that rode motorcycles were young. I mean really young, under 30 years of age. Motorcycle riders were rough and wild and anti-establishment. They were the type folks that if you accidentally bumped into them going into a store, they’d stomp the you know what out of you.

I thought most folks that rode motorcycles were pretty close to Hell’s Angels. And, if they had a girl to ride with them, she would be lean and mean and hot and sexy. If you even dared to look at her, she’d also stomp the you know what out of you. I guess that’s why I got a motorcycle when I was 12 and kept one off and on for the next 15-20 years. I never stomped anybody, but at least I thought I was tough.

But boy, the times they are a changing. Now you are hard-pressed to find anyone under 50 riding a “bike.” Every rider is a retired lawyer or doctor or CPA. They wear leather and do-rags on their head. They don’t wear the do-rag to look cool and tough though. They wear it to cover up their bald head. They try to swagger around, but it’s hard to do with an 80-pound gut and bifocals. I haven’t seen a decent-looking gal on the back of a motorcycle since “Easy Rider” the movie came out in the early ’70s. Most of the time nowadays, I’m shocked when I see a man and his woman riding a bike down the highway. Not shocked that the woman is on the back, but shocked they make a motorcycle powerful enough to pull both of ‘em at the same time.

I don’t know what they feed motorcycle riders these days, but whatever it is it would make a pretty good pig feed. Come to think of it, maybe I should take riding a bike back up. I’m bald. I’m a lawyer and I’m fat. Thank goodness I do not have a fat wife. Let me repeat so there is no misunderstanding. My wife would be fine riding in the ’70s, lean and mean and hot and sexy. But she sure as hell will not ride a motorcycle with me. So much for that idea.

I’d still take riding back up, but I can barely drive my pickup truck without tearing down half the street signs between my house and work. If I did, my life expectancy would be greatly reduced, and to tell you the truth it ain’t too good to begin with.

I’d like to travel to bike week at Daytona or go to Sturgis for the really big rally. But I’m afraid of what I might see. Yes, afraid of what I might see. In the old days, it might be naked women and drunken brawls. Street drag races and beer chugging contests. Now, who knows? They may have shuffleboard contests and nap time at 3. Instead of the Crazy Horse Saloon being packed, it’s probably the half-priced Ryan’s buffet bar that is packed.

I just don’t know what to think. The world has gone array. Green Lantern is gay. The president is accused of sleeping with a porn star. They don’t even make good Westerns anymore, and you have to wear a helmet to ride a bicycle. A bicycle, I tell you. And now, all my swaggering, bada$$, rebel bike riders are fat, slow and boring. Damn, they grew up too, and it makes me mad.

So, all you good-looking tough and rough young folks. Get a bike. I’m tired of looking at what I see on the highway these days.