Now, no one can deny that it does takes some big balls (and a lot of fabric, apparently) to dress up like a Wizard and walk around in a sea of drunken Harley guys wearing chains and bandanas while inhaling Marlboro reds.
And so as I sat there watching the clash of the two worlds unfold in front of me on Illinois St. downtown in Indianapolis. I didn’t have to go test my sociological thesis in different cities or countries using economic cross sectional slices of society. All the data I needed to collect was right in front of me. And I do mean that literally, starting with the picture above.
The Game Con guys weren’t the only ones dressing up and playing make believe. Everyone was. (Now I don’t want to offend anyone here, and I’m not picking on Harley guys, just using them as an example because Indy around the MotoGP is basically not much different than Sturgis, meaning it’s 90% HD. Change “Harley guys” to “Sportbike riding squids” and the same story is told. But because this is what I had in front of me, this is what I’m reporting on.) The Harley guys, too, were feigning.
Note--you can't always be sure when someone is a chameleon or not. Take Rossi off his bike, put him on a GSXR and plop him into a crowd of sportbiker-types at your nearest Sunday morning ride breakfast joint and he'll blend right in with all the other squids. (The etymology of a squid is based on the characteristics of a real squid. Specifically, squids can change color, texture and body shape--essentially mimicking something that has attributes they do not possess.)
The guy I took a picture of above isn't the best example of the typical HD stereotype. He looked like a nice guy who was just out cruising around and not trying to pretend he was something he wasn't. But again, this was all I had in front of me. But you know what I'm talking about, so imagine the 'poser' of a HD guy who goes a little overboard with his HD fashion instead of the couple above. And then take a Hell's Angel and put him in with the typical mix of the lawyers and doctors (and plumbers and bridge-toll-collectors) who ride Harleys and you'll have trouble spotting the REAL bad ass motherfucker. And out of fear for my life (and the pursuit of truth) I'm not here to point fingers at the genuine
archetypes. It's not wise to make fun of real tough-guys any more than it is to poke fun at REAL samurai or sorcerers. My point is that the guy who spends his day in a suit or scrubs never gets on his Panhead without donning the costume that allows them to participate in being something every man wants to be--"a bad ass motherfucker;" so they mimic the image that the Hell's Angels and outlaw biker gangs created and go out to be seen by others who are intimidated by that image. But there comes a point when the once genuine image is diluted with mimickry, diluted by an affectation of concealment. It's also why the corporate suit has lost so much meaning--there's too many empty ones. And over time the reverse trend happens (guys who show up to meetings wearing flip flops and shorts MUST be bad ass motherfuckers)!