Bikers belong to the same club

By Dave Kannas

"Hey man, is that your bike out there?" I wasn't sure whether I could reasonably deny the fact since I was the only person in the room who was wearing the signature spandex, jersey and day-glow green riding vest.

This meeting of cultures took place at Alki Bakery, home of the West Seattle Chapter of the Center of the Known Universe. This is where many bicyclists go to contemplate the state of the world over coffee and baked goods. It's also a great place to meet and talk with bikers from around the region. But I digress.

The young man who asked me the question wore a biker's uniform but one that differed from mine. His was like the uniform of a different army: same purpose, different look. He wore ankle-length black pants, black T-shirt with silver-colored logo, black hooded sweatshirt, and wide black belt with silver studs. He had black hair and trimmed black beard. There were also a few tattoos placed here and there. He wore a silver-colored chain with lock around his waist as well. I would defy the average bike thief to cut it. He did have bicycling shoes that matched mine. But most importantly he rode up on a bicycle, although without a helmet.

The biker arrived with a companion, a young female who rode a single speed bike, probably fixed gear. It was a great looking bike. Both bikes were shiny and obviously well loved. She wasn't wearing a helmet either. Do you see why I might have hesitated answering the initial question? These people looked different than me. And, in addition, they were youngsters! Can't trust those youngsters who look different from us, can we? For that matter, trusting older people who look different presents potential problems, right?

So what's a "respectable" biker like me to do, dressed like your "normal" biker in a bakery where "respectable" people in "respectable" dress and hardly a tattoo in sight congregate to discuss the issues of the day, when confronted by two such bikers? A moral dilemma presented itself, but for only a second.

You see, we were both bikers. We respond first as people who belong to the same club. Biking has a way of bringing people together and offering a common interest that almost always cracks the conversation ice. It's like dogs and babies.

"Yes, it's my bike." I thought his intent might be to offer praise for my taste in bikes. My bike is, after all, an eye-catcher. Bike aficionados know this. But he didn't mention my exceptional choice of bike. He asked if I had a spare tube. I hadn't noticed that he rode in on a flat tire.

It happens that I usually carry two spare tubes and a repair kit. Call me paranoid, but I've found myself in a bad place without means of fixing a flat, so now I ride prepared.

The young biker knew the code of bikers: One always comes to the aid of another biker where possible. It's sort of an "ask and ye shall receive" maxim. Paying for the item provided is always a good rule to follow, though. If that's not possible, so be it. The biker did give me what the tube cost me.

He said that I had saved his day. He described being hit by a car the day before which damaged his wheel, which lead to a slow leak, which lead to the flat a long way from home. I think he said home was in the area of Broadway. Dreaded Broadway, the place where "those people" live and hang out!

The young biker and his friend expressed their thanks after fixing the flat, then rode off toward home. They proved my hypothesis that the Alki Bakery really is the Center of the Known Universe, West Seattle Chapter. It brings together a variety of good people over good coffee and good eats.

But there's more to this true story. You've probably noticed that it's easy to be suspicious of people who don't look like you, talk like you, dress like you or any number of other things not shared with you. I know I some times notice it in me. And I sure notice it in quite a few people who don't share the world of bicycling with me. There are always those few who think that because we bicyclists dress funny and get around via different means, we are suspect and not to be fully trusted. This has lead to some hostile behavior on the part of this small and, thankfully, dwindling population.

Enough said. But recall that we all need to be ever vigilant for those bikers who don't wear spandex.

Ride safe.

Dave Kannas may be reached via wseditor@robinsonnews.com