Is so funny working in a Harley-Davidson store. I must say I’ve learned a lot about this American subculture, some of it exactly what I expected and some of it a little shocking. The thing that I have found the most interesting, however, is that unlike what most people think… people from all economic and social backgrounds buy Harleys.
There’s the rich business man type that just wants something to show off. There is the school teacher who needs a thrill in life and just really enjoys wearing the clothing (probably more than riding the bike). There are the young kids who think owning a bike will give them an instant status upgrade among their friends. There are the old retired couples who also need a thrill. There’s the one time rebels who want to remember a piece of their past. Then there are the true Harley riders. These are the men and women that are quintessential Harley-Davidson. They belong to biker gangs and are covered in tattoos and leather. I actually like these ones the best. Most of them are sincerely nice people, as long as you don’t cross them, and many of them have stories of hard lives. Live hard ride hard right. This type has been riding Harley’s for so long that it is ingrained in who they are. Without a bike they would be lost.
True bikers whether rich or poor are an extremely loyal bunch. These guys and gals will do anything for each other and seem to consider them selves members of a secret society. As long as you own a HOG you are a member. When the chips are down they are there for each other. One thing I have learned from working here is to never judge a book by its cover. I am not surprised to see a 70 year old grandma type walk in clad in leather and riding a HOG. Nor am I surprised to have an interesting conversation with a tattooed gentleman that at one point in my life I would have been a little scared of.
I guess working for Harley has humbled me a little. Even though I’m still scared to death of motorcycles I have gained respect for them and the people that ride them.
2 comments:
Nice!
So, I totally agree. When my friend got prego in High School she was working in a salon across from some biker hang out. All these people she thought were scary brought her bags of clothes and toys. ..Strange story I know.
Not to mention my dad and his friends are bikers so I know they are good people.
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