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Biker Buzz Glendora Rider
Have you heard the bikers are back? They have swarmed into Florida like love bugs in the spring. But with big noise. Apparently they multiply along the water because they are most prevalent at the beach. They all wear black and you can't tell them apart. However, the gender is apparent. There are mostly males, larger and hairier leaders while the females, smaller and barer, hang on tight behind the male in transient or otherwise they are found wrestling around in cole slaw. The females are known as babes. There is very seldom just one loner. They stick together in pairs or crowds.
Bikers choose to travel in open two wheeled contraptions with pedals for their feet and handlebars for their steering and inner works that puff out fumes. These are machines decorated with silver and fancy artwork that cost more than the average Camaro on the road, but lack the inside comfort of wide seats, air conditioning and airbags and seatbelts and On Star and CDs and cruise control and trunks to carry luggage and remote keying. In motion, the biker rides in a constant hunched position like a jockey on a horse, needs a helmet, then goggles to keep the bugs out, must neutralize at every stop light and be ready to rear forth with sputtering motor to keep up with the traffic. When parked, motor bikes are easily stolen and never recovered, and then the cyclist is left hopefully with enough cash to get back to Massachusetts.
The breed is nocturnal. They emerge in the late afternoon and fill the roads in waves of roaring phalanxes. Louder than the ocean. They go up and down the same beach roads, back and forth, in singles, pairs and packs of fours and eights and sixteens, and they keep going all night. At the peak of activity they swarm to watering holes where the beverage is beer and the talk is of Harleys.
They are generally more predictable than the rest of the road rabble. They stop at red lights, they considerately break up a squadron so other vehicles can get by, they even stop and let pedestrians cross the street.
Everywhere in preparation for the explosion are signs "WELCOME BIKERS." Not just the pubs but all the merchants seem to want the bikers. They don't put up such signs for any other element such as "welcome residents," "welcome backpackers," "welcome seniors," "welcome Canadians."
During Bike Week usually the weather turns bad - rain and wind and chill - like it does during fair week but being a hardy breed, they are out anyway visiting the merchants who so warmly welcome them. This Florida weather is somehow arranged so that they will group together indoors and empty their bike pockets. Towards the end of the week or ten days of apparition, I have seen a little store with a brave, new sign, "Bikers, Go Home."
READER'S REVIEWS (3) DISCLAIMER: STORYMANIA DOES NOT PROVIDE AND IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR REVIEWS. ALL REVIEWS ARE PROVIDED BY NON-ASSOCIATED VISITORS, REGARDLESS OF THE WAY THEY CALL THEMSELVES.
"Hi, yes very promising, I like the touch of humour. Kind regards Diana Venditti" -- Diana Vendittit , Italy.
"liked the descriptions, well done." -- echo.
"Another well written piece. Lew" -- Lew, Ocoee, FL.
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