Scooters vs. the man card

Okay. So there I am in the Motorcycle Riding Class a months ago at the Honda Riding Center. My good buddy, and motorcycle police officer, Nathan recommended I go there. The whole group of us in class is sitting around tables during our break and we are looking at some of Honda's motorcycle brochures. Call me a moron but I like the scooters. The Silver Wing is this really big scooter, goes on the highway, is pretty fast, etc. I like it. And so I blurt out, "This Silverwing is really cool, I would like one of THOSE!" The multiple conversions that were scattering around the room seemed to come to a decrescendo. Heads turned in my direction until all was quiet. I was the center of attention. All eyes were on my as I held the Silverwing scooter page open in the brochure. I quietly asked the question, "I would have to surrender my man card if I get one of these, huh?" It was like I asked the most obvious question imaginable. They all quickly affirmed, "YES" and then turned back to their conversations. And the women in the room looked at me like I just became infected with some horrible contagious virus. Haven't felt that way since high school.


Please place a comment and make your oppinion kown if a guy would have to surrender his "man card" or at least forfeit some "man points" if he rides a highway-legal scooter.


And so today, I'm riding down International Speedway Blvd, about a half mile north of the Daytona Speedway. Dad's pipes are loud, the bike is smooooth, I'm wearing black leather boots, black leather jacket, Oakley shades, I'm doing pretty good (the only thing I'm missing is a pair of large biceps and some tattoos). Whenever other bikers pass you or you pass other bikers they extend their hand in polite wave. It's like you are in a brotherhood. But this guy comes up to a stop light. He is on a......on a......a Honda Silverwing Scooter. My first reaction was to smile and check it out because I think it looks so cool but then I remembered I must suppress such urges and feelings. I went to extend my hand to wave but wait.....do we wave to those people? The guy was wearing a half open Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and sandals on that clutchless wonder. Maybe he was from another country? Maybe he didn't get the memo? And so I was stuck at my stoplight. What should I do? Pretend I don't see him. Purposely look the other way? Look down on him? Rev my throttle so any thoughts he might even have in that scooterish brain of his is drowned out by the sound of pure awesomeness?

Then I thought of my dad. Hmmm.... What would he do?

And I realized that it takes a very secure male individual to be the first one on the dance floor to do the Electric slide, the Macarena, admit that he still listens to his Milli Vanilla tape, and frequently watches Dirty Dancing like it is part of his monthly schedule.

My thoughts seemed in sync with the glug glug BLAST glug glug COUGH of the low-idling Harley underneath me. Brotherhood is something that was far more general than specific for my old man. The only thing that would keep you out of it were violating 3 simple rules: He wouldn't tolerate rudeness, he would never tolerate a bully, and he would never tolerate anything that encroached upon the rights of others. So long as you didn't violate any of those rules you were in the good graces of Jim Disanza. You could be black, white, yellow, red, purple, gay, straight, crazy, or a complete nerd and Jim Disanza would extend his hand.

Dad would surely wave to Mr. Hawaiian Tropic on the scooter. And so I popped the peg a half click up to neutral, I slowly removed my left hand from the clutch, lowered it along my leg, and slowly extended it in a sign of peace. And with that the light turned green, I stomped on first, and thundered on to the rest of my life.


note to Megan: it's in a large pot.