Happy Father’s Day
Was invited by a friend to an annual event in one
of the small beach cities: A Father’s Day brunch
at a motorcycle shop well known to the cognoscenti.
(To the rest of us, not so much.)
And yes, it was a tad intimidating to pull up to
the store and see dozens of motorcycles wrapped
around the block, all proudly pointing their
snouts aggressively at the passing, humble cars.
Inside the shop, spilling out onto the sidewalk,
milling through the parking lot waiting for
the band, inspecting motorcycle tchotchkes
for sale, were about two hundred people.
Most were north of thirty or south of fourteen.
(These motorcycles do not come cheap.)
And with each person there was benign eye
contact and a (sometimes small) smile,
including from the grey-haired tank in the
union wifebeater tee with one armhole split
down to the waist who looked like a fugitive
from a bad-boy-gone-badder movie.
Couldn’t have been a friendlier bunch.
Went up the sidewalk to take a pic. In front of
the neighboring bike shop (the pedal variety), a
couple guys stood at the door.
I smiled at them.
They looked down, scowled and retreated inside
their shop.
WTF is that?
Tags: Yeah, yeah, we should all watch the
basing expectations of behaviors on stereotyping
And remember that goes both ways: Rich/poor,
professional/blue collar, and cleancut/well
worn Von Dutch shirts.
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