Fitting In. Or not.

“To discover what normal means, you have to surf a tide of weirdness.”

Here in America riding a motorcycle can sometimes place you far enough outside the mainstream to make you feel a bit odd or uncomfortable. Not physically (though sometimes that, too), but emotionally. Usually this involves arriving at some destination as the only motorcyclist, while everyone else got there either in a car, or after using public transit, or by pedaling a bicycle. The specific situations are typically more amusing than awkward – and this is a feature of transportation-riding more than a bug. After a few years one becomes almost a connoisseur of those moments.  

For example, once, when riding through a sparsely populated, semi-impoverished and desolate-looking part of northern Wisconsin, I walked into a broken-down roadside bar/single-pump almost-a-gas-station (gasoline + whiskey store = a Wisconsin tradition) and my Hi Viz Darien jacket generated an unexpected greeting. After telling the bartender how much gas I’d just pumped and handing him my credit card, I headed in the direction of the restroom on the far side of this gloomy joint. Before I’d made it even halfway, a completely sh-t-faced bar-stool-supported patron wearing a worn-out flannel shirt and a ten-day whisker stubble wobbly turned toward me and loudly bellowed: “Who called the EMT? The EMTs are here! The EMTs are here! Who called an EMT ??!! Who called an EMT ??!!” Every eye in the joint went right to me and the whole place became as quiet as a public library or church (your choice). A few moments later I was peeing and grinning. I’d made this sad old fellow’s day without even trying.  

Historians, psychologists, sociologists and poets have written libraries full of books about our strong and unwavering need to follow crowds, and to belong. We crave acceptance, recognition, and affirmation. This is behavioral and emotional firmware built into our core DNA. For example, without ever being taught, almost everyone naturally gives very small children all the acceptance and affirmation they possibly can. It is so much a fundamental a part of being human, lessons are unnecessary. And at the other extreme, every popular sport comes with legions of fans. We need to belong.

In some advanced parts of the world (like the good ol' USA) a minor conflict arises in the minds of those enjoying frequent doses of motorcycling’s inherent soul and mood nourishing effects, with the mildly uncomfortable awareness of being slightly estranged from the mainstream. A thoughtful rider wonders: Should I ride only in societally-defined ‘normal’ motorcycling situations (fair weather recreational, sport, touring, and hobby riding, etc)...or, what, exactly? What kinds of ordinary riding activities get in the way of being fully accepted? And should we even care about this?

Try riding for day-to-day transportation in rain, or in cold, or on any day with less than Kodachrome-perfect weather. Doing this marks you as a bit weird. Simply walk through a grocery store perfectly comfortable and happy inside dripping wet gear on a cold and rainy day and you cannot help but notice a few other shoppers discreetly looking questioningly at you, their eyes silently asking why the heck you are doing something normally so enjoyable in just about the most difficult, dangerous, stupid and seemingly uncomfortable way possible. What’s wrong with you? Alternatively, ride anywhere for a vacation road trip, or to some rally, or on a guided motorcycle tour, or around a racetrack, or for an adventure, or even at some locally popular trail-riding area on a weekend, and you will be well understood by the non-riding public as being perfectly normal. 

Beyond all that are some special circumstances when you would particularly enjoy being accepted by people who don’t ride. These include family holiday gatherings, formal dinners, weddings, birthday parties, picnics and funerals. If you happen to be the only person who rode to one of those events, it’s almost guaranteed your dear old aunt Sandra, or your mother-in-law Karen, or your nosy uncle Freddy, or SOMEONE will ask in a curious yet mildly judgmental voice: “Did you ride your motorcycle?”  Especially if the weather you’d just ridden through to get there was anything less than perfect. Whenever this happens, and it will, those nearby will lean in a bit to hear your answer. And you’ll have similar experiences when riding to business meetings, courtroom hearings, public gathering events, and much more.  

It's somewhat different when you ride to any type of business as a customer, or to a polling station to vote. There you are not seeking empathetic acceptance, and this is usually the same with co-workers, though the first time you ride into work there might be some gossip or a curious comment. But after a few days of riding to work your single-track moto-transportation quirkiness normalizes and everything returns to business as usual -- except on days when the weather is a bit adverse for riding. 

I don’t need to tell you that regular moto-commuting and utility transportation riding is not only good for your mental and physical health, and also probably lightens the overall load you place on our cute little planet, or how sometimes it even saves you time and money. If you are reading this you already know all of that. Rain-or-shine, riding a motorcycle is nearly always worth it despite the occasional socially uncomfortable or awkward moment. So, if you happen to have a job which doesn’t require carrying a bunch of equipment or large or heavy items, and if your motorcycle more-or-less matches your local roads and routines, and if you have a good selection of decent gear arranged to fall conveniently to hand, you might as well ride there. I’ve previously written about the useful gear stuff several times, most recently here.

Regardless of how well-equipped you are, the worst problem of winter riding will always be the occasional stink-eye from a few self-righteously comfortable drivers within their well-sealed climate-controlled semi-armored chariots. The hardest thing about riding more is you sometimes just won’t quite fit in. At the end of the day when you ride for utility transportation, you’re alone. Just be careful out there.

- Mr. Subjective, Nov 2024