Us and Them

Why differences between bikers do not matter as much as the one all-important similarity

"You still own your Bullet, right?" came the half-concerned, half-threatening question from the big, bald, bearded guy. "How come you're riding a Pulsar then?"

A few years back, I would have actually worried about being asked the question. My 2003 Std. 350 was my first bike and my first love - intense and passionate. Every word against it was hated and every shortcoming defended fiercely. The trend was uniform amongst all my Bulleteer brothers - this was a form of collective worship, and boy did we worship. By those standards, my current situation on the ‘plastic bike’ was sacrilege.

The dumbing down between the big bike and the small ones was mutual. The sport riding buddies that I made later were all very proud, and deservedly so, of how much quicker their bikes were around the corners, in how much more efficient a manner, especially without parts falling off the bike. The fact that most Enfields also came with PYT’s on the pillion seat as more or less standard ensured that no love was lost for the thumpers.

There is no right or wrong here, obviously. It is not difficult to understand that wherever there are differences in the persona of a bike, there will be people who will either like it or dislike it. Such differences are what stand the machines in good stead, and are justified, celebrated and even glorified occasionally. The problem begins when this love for one brand begins to translate into hatred, or worse still, ignorance of the true and genuine abilities of whatever else exists in the market.

Such a trend is almost universal – rarely will one spot a true blue Harley H.O.G waving to a ‘crotch rocket’ sport rider screaming past him, and vice versa. Bikers are supposed to be good people – why do the badges on our bikes make us feel such animosity for our own kind then? Because past the badges and our weird need to find security behind the labels that they give us, we are all the same people. We’re all convincing our families that our passion is not life threatening. We are all saving up fuel money for the next ride. We are all looking for that indescribable blissful place, when the rider feels one with his machine, and everything else stops mattering.

It is difficult to move past our differences, but there is no need to. Realization of just a few things ought to suffice. What we ride is important, but not as much as the fact that we ride. It is good to love motorcycles, but it is far more important to love motorcycling.