Some people hate their commute. I endure mine only because it's a relatively short distance, I travel in swiftly moving traffic most of the time, and finally, because of the crazy Southern California loonies on the road.
For five years I commuted on a motorcycle, so I have the greatest respect for these often invisible commuters. Just the other day, the exhaust note of a bike caught my attention as it rode past, not for its finely tuned rumble, but rather, for its flatulent tone.
What rode past awed me. It appeared to be, at one time, a Honda 750-Four. I recognized the brown/gold-striped tank and the SOHC engine. This bike was many miles from home, metaphysically, having undergone more plastic surgery than Joan Rivers, it's glory days all but forgotten.
Since motorcycles are an atypical mode of transportation, a bike is more likely to say specific things about the rider. Below, I've highlighted what I'm hearing from this one:
1. My head isn't worth more than this old open-face Bell helmet with a snap-on face shield.
2. Rearview mirrors should be placed in the least useful location. Always replace the handlebars to impede steerability and comfort but increase "café-racer" appearance.
3. I'm tired of my damn bell-bottoms getting stuck in the chain.
4. Deck shoes are cool. The shifter sticks on the upshift and cuts off the circulation to my toes, but I don't mind. These are skater shoes, so they have enough support for motorcycling. Rubber-topped footpegs are lame.
5. This chain is original equipment and I've never had to clean it!
6. They sure knew how to make tires in the ‘80s, I got this one from the Craigslist Freebies section.
7. I found this Kerker 4-into-1 in a dumpster.
8. It's sunny California...why do I need fenders, turn signals, or brake lights as long as I have this perma-glow red light, that I got from the 99¢ store, bolted to the back?
9. The original-equipment padded seat looked stupid and was uncomfortable.
10. Two karabiners should be enough to keep my girlfriend from falling off.
This is what has been commonly known in the motorcycling community as a squid. Some say it's an acronym for "Stupidly Quick, Underdressed, Ignorant, and Dangerous." I feel the connotation Squid engenders is sufficient without attaching any other significance to it.
I've bagged on this kid pretty hard. I don't know him or his situation. If this is the best we're likely to expect from him, it's a damn shame. So, in the spirit of brotherhood, let me give him a couple of kudos. First, he was traveling with the flow of traffic. He didn't split lanes in moving traffic. Second, his tires aren’t squared off like those on most retro-squid bikes. The old Contis(?) appear to have plenty of rock-hard tread available.
In summary, though, this guy is only a half-second’s-worth-of-bad-luck away from a serious personal disaster because of what he's riding and how he's dressed. I gave him plenty of room with hopes of never seeing him again. Via con Dios.