Bikers – that family feeling

When I started biking I had no idea that I was joining a community, a family even.

On my first long trip out of London – SE London to Hull (N Humberside) I was a little perplexed at first by bikers heading towards me nodding…. Or those who easily overtook me plodding along at 70-75mph in the nearside lane (lane 1, slow lane, left-hand lane whichever you prefer… that’s another thought altogether!) who would give me a little left-hand wave as they passed me. At first I thought maybe I was doing something wrong – was my high beam on? Was I lane hogging? Was I just a bad rider!?

Finally I realised and was stunned, then completely overwhelmed by the realisation that they were merely greeting me as a fellow biker! The warm feeling upon realising this has never really left me. To know that by donning the gear and climbing aboard my bike I was joining a community, a family, bound by choice and genuine feeling was simply stunning. To know that because you ride a bike - unless you prove otherwise - you are automatically considered by the biking public “all right”… to know that by having that one link in common you can walk up to any other biker and strike up a conversation, or indeed they one with you (provided you look friendly enough too!!) takes an amazing social pressure off.

In central London the family atmosphere is slightly strained, much as if you lived too close to your own family – too many people in too little space, but scratch the surface and it is there.

Bikers look out for their own. Even in London – in my early days I discovered when I stalled at the lights on my rented Yamaha SJ125 and couldn’t restart it straight off – a biker stopped within minutes to check on me. Other occasions I have been stopped for a while – waiting for people, checking where I am etc, people have stopped to check on me. Some say that’s because of being female. It’s simply not true. I have watched people stop for each other – complete strangers, bound only by the common thread of biking.

I make a point of stopping. I’m not that much use to a fellow biker – but hey, it takes two minutes of your time, and even if you can’t help at least the person stopped does not feel alone. One memorable occasion, returning to London from Boxhill on a grey, cold and very wet Sunday I passed a Ducati in a bus stop, the rider sheltering in the bus shelter. I actually passed by and thought about it, but my conscience wouldn’t let me carry on, so turning around (a nice 3 point turn in a housing estate – I HATE U-turns!) I pulled up behind him. He looked completely disheartened, however after a few minutes chatting it was clear he had all the right tools, knew what the trouble was and was fixing it between rain spells. He thanked me for stopping, and pointed out that my time was far from wasted, he had cheered up immensely. I agreed, and lets face it – nothing worse than having to fix your bike in the rain, at least if you know you’re not alone its more bearable.

I’ve spent a couple of hours outside my work, helping a lad who’d dropped his Gixxer in the petrol station – it wouldn’t restart. We tried bump starting it several times (hard work!) and in the end jumped it from my battery. The rider was delighted that I’d helped him, as he was starting to feel like a pariah when no one on our industrial estate seemed to be able to or want to help.

Another occasion in London at a audio visual shop, I passed a couple of comments with another rider in the queue for the till and when I came out of the shop with my purchase and put it in my tail pack was amazed to see him with a dvd-sized box looking at ways of getting it home with nothing to secure it. I expressed my amazement that he intended to carry it without any form of steadying it. He agreed, but was asked to collect it and so was not prepared - what could he do? While we talked I swapped the extra bungee cord I used to hold my tail pack flatter for a new one in my bag, and held the old one out to him. Would that help? We managed to secure the box well enough that if he took it easy he should get himself and the item home in one piece. He was a little surprised I was so quick to offer help, and was determined to get the bungee back to me. I refused and said to him – as I do to anyone who wonders what they can do for me – Do a favour for another biker and you have paid me back.

The day bikers become like car-drivers (I know this is a generalisation and some do stop, I’m talking about the majority) and simply ride past a fellow biker in difficulty will be a very sad day indeed.

Some bikers are a little elitist about nodding and waving. I admit to not nodding to scooters, but have stopped for a scooter twice before now and probably will again. After all todays scooter-riders may well be tomorrows bikers.

Copyright © 2003 by Girlie_Biker.  All rights reserved.
Revised: 07 Jul 2012 11:45:20 +0100 .