One day last month, I’m riding south on the Garden State Parkway. I’m on my way to a charity ride, a toy run. I spot a motorcycle on the shoulder ahead and so I pull over next to him, in case he needs help. It’s a Harley rider a guy near my age (60’s). He says he just stopped for a smoke. We shoot the shat for a bit and then he says he lost his cell phone somewhere. I lend him mine so he can call his daughter. I’m just about to leave and he says “Hey, thanks for stopping.†I shoot him a thumbs up and say “not a problem†and I’m gone. My point is this. I don’t give a hoot in hell what kind of bike you ride or don’t ride. I do not hate Harley riders, or Power Rangers, or guys on scooters. If you ride, you are all right with me. So I am not a “biker or a Biker. I am a guy who loves to ride. And at this point in my life I happen to be back on a Triumph.
