Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Bad to the Bone. And sparkly.
The stereotype of the biker is still alive and well. Huge bellied, bearded and bullish men, wearing enough leather to drown a horse, clutch tiny polystyrene cups of tea while pointing knowingly at featherbed frames and discussing whether that colour was the original 1964 or later 1965 hue. I didn't really fit in, not having the heritage, and I sort of scampered off every time it looked like someone was about to engage me in conversation. I feared an Invasion of the Body Snatcher type response. Think of a fat, baldy Donald Sutherland with a rollup.
The best fun was possibly looking at how other people had maintained, customised or ruined their bikes in the parking area outside. Scary bikes, small bikes, bike bikes, gay bikes, they were all there and revving up an assortment of (mostly illegal) exhausts. At £5 it was good value entertainment but I'll really need to do some homework before next time. Of course, it's the same dozen classic bikes which attend all the Scottish events so memorising them shouldn't be too hard, and then I too can say things like "Aye, that's a 74 like, tell by the caliper housing."