There was a time when I considered joining a motorcycle riders club. You know the type of club where riders get together in a parking lot somewhere and take a ride to a planned destination, have coffee and then ride home. Kind of like Wild Hogs, but with more people.
That temptation passed and to be blunt there’s no way in hell I’ll join a riders club.
One sunny Sunday afternoon and I fired up my motorcycle for a 120-mile afternoon ride. The road that leads out of town is filled with corners, elevation changes and scenery that tourists plan months to come and see. It’s a riders dream! Anyway, I’m having a fun time powering up the hill when I caught up with a local riders club. They were all on cruisers of various makes and all dressed the part of the leather-clad biker. They were riding in staggered formation and I couldn’t believe how slow they were riding, especially around the corners. In fact when they came to a corner the lead rider would put up his arm to indicate that the formation should go single file.
After about 20 minutes of following the group and I was very frustrated and wanted to to get by them. We finally reached a passing lane and I was gone, giving a courtesy wave as I rocketed past them.
Now I’m all for riding clubs. They provide a social setting for many bikers to meet others with the same needs and likes and many provide additional practice training for new riders. They’re just not for me. I would go crazy if I had to ride in a pack like the one I trailed all day. To me that’s not what riding is all about.
I do like to ride with friends who have the same style as I do, fast paced and stop only for the essentials. Most of the time though, I ride alone. I choose the pace, where I go and how long I’m gone. For me riding is all about the ride and locking out everything else. It’s meditation on two wheels.