It always amazes me to watch someone make a snap judgment about a person, simply by the way they look: if a person is overweight, they’re lazy; if they wear glasses, they’re smart; and if they’re bikers, they’re obviously in a gang that’s just robbed the church.
For some reason, black leather, doo rags, tattoos and biker boots means bad news, to adults, at least… a little kid usually has a totally different take on things. For example, while on our way home from Pigeon Forge, we stopped for a rest break. As we were walking towards the bathrooms, a little blonde cutie-pie came out holding her grandmother’s hand. She took one look at my husband (big ol’ teddy bear of a guy: full beard and mustache, dark glasses, gloves and boots, a smile as wide as the horizon and of course, a doo rag) and said “look, Grandma, a pirate!” with a big smile. Then she spotted me and said, “oh, another pirate!” She  made fast friends with my husband and talked to him for several minutes. We almost always get smiles and waves from kids.
We’ve had a few negative responses as well, usually from adults. They either don’t like how we look, or that we’re riding motorcycles. They look like they smell something bad…
But those folks are in the minority – most folks are about as friendly as they can be – I smile and they smile back. One little old lady at a bank patted my arm just like my grandma would have, and said, ‘honey you just have air conditioning all the time, don’t you? you be safe out there!” and then walked on with a smile.I always try to smile and be friendly towards other folks, to reach out to them and show them it’s OK to smile at me and say hello.
I think the folks who judge me and mine harshly are those whose deepest heart’s desire was once to ride, but something kept them from it – either fear, whether of judgment or of an accident; or someone with authority over them refused to let them ride.
So, I guess I should pity those who look down on us – they either want to be where we are, but don’t have the strength to do it, or they think we’re less than them because of who and what we are. Maybe we look like we’re having too good a time to care whether our hair is combed, or that I’m not wearing makeup; maybe they can see on our faces that we’re doing something enjoyable and don’t care what others think; or maybe they just never learned to be happy. Either way, I’m sorry for them…
In the end, my newest patch says it all: Judge me all you want, just keep your verdict to yourself.

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