I have to confess that my relationship with biker culture has been sometimes uneasy. Firstly, I think that people who ride motorcycles in South Florida “sure do put their lives in their hands” (Rocky Horror quote, yeah?) what with the FUCKING CRAZY drivers down here, soo… I think some of them are already working with less than a full deck.
Then after meeting our local Outlaws at the South Florida Tattoo Expo the past couple of years, I started to feel a little uncomfortable. I didn’t talk to them, but their stash of stun guns, knives and “Don’t Turn This Date Rape Into a Homicide” shirts for sale kind of said it all. I got a vibe of intolerance that, although it might not apply specifically to me (tattooed white girl), I’m very up front about my disinterest in being around anyone who doens’t accept EVERYONE. Aside from the point that I don’t think rape is at all something to joke about. This is one of the things that has turned me off from spending more time in the Daytona area night life, and my mom was out to change my mind with the seemingly unlikeliest of events… bringing us to Bike Week.
In the end, we left with two pieces of nice leather, three patches, two souvenir mugs that were filled and re-filled (with soda towards the end, we can’t hang like the old folks), and a ton of awesome pictures that are still to come. Overall, people seemed to leave each other the hell alone because it’s the right thing to do to stay out of trouble, and that’s a concept that I try to live by – If you don’t have something nice to say, shut the fuck up if no one’s asking you.