Bikes represent freedom and individuality, so bikers
are a disparate tribe, by definition, with our own inscrutable customs. But our
collective rebellion against convention doesn't make us uncivilised, whatever
popular mythology might think.
Which means there is a certain basic degree of
human respect owing to our bikes, our brethren and ourselves. The biker's code
dictates that we are all responsible for our own rides; in all senses bikers
use the word. I've said before that there's a certain freemasonry among bikers,
and I stand by it. So when we get together in our raucous, backslapping,
bike-revving way, there are certain unspoken civilities we expect.
If you're going on an organised ride, be on
time. If you can't be on time, inform the ride leader or someone else
guaranteed to be there. This is the age of mobile technology - a 3-word text
('sorry: overslept/ bike bust', even 'on my way') is all it takes to stop
everyone else getting irritated waiting on your grand entrance.
Having arrived in, or shortly after, the nick
of time, do not say 'I'm just going to grab a coffee' and proceed to order a
full breakfast. We have all eaten, yes, and you haven't, because we arrived on
time.
Having delayed us all, because you're leading
and we therefore couldn’t just leave you, you do not then suddenly change the
route and waste another 10 minutes programming your satnav to take the shortest
route when you meant the quickest. But you (and therefore we) will blindly
follow your satnav because you haven't recce'd the ride or even looked at a map
book, and goodness knows yeast has a better sense of direction than you do.
Which does not prevent you from making cheap sexist cracks about my navigational
skills at lunch in order to make yourself feel better.
You do not, as a leader, go off on a ride with
newbies behind you when you haven't briefed them on which group-riding system
you use. And if you do, you do not then blame them when something (like a
traffic light) happens and the group gets split up.
When it turns out that the splinter group steered
better than you and your precious satnav, and got to the pub for lunch ahead of
you, you are probably better off keeping your cracks to yourself. I don't care
if they make your ego feel less dented; they're irrelevant and make you out as
far more of a Neanderthal than I expect you'd like to be.
You also do not park so flipping close to my
bike that when we leave you need to shriek hysterically about me hitting you.
First off, I know exactly where I am and where you are and I won't hit you.
Tempting as that might be, I value my bike too much.
Secondly, I parked first. You weren't here,
you were lost. You're the one who chose to snuggle your bike up to mine.
So get a grip and take some responsibility for your own actions and their
effects.
Having now done everything you shouldn't have,
and done so repeatedly, do not then be surprised when you are written off as
chronically unreliable, and your rides are scorned and slated. Biking
is about freedom, yes, but ultimately there is the freedom
to take the consequences.
