The Pseudo Biker

A Pseudo Biker is a weekend biker, one with no chance of ever going to jail, except perhaps for the white collar crime of embezzling money from a non-profit organization dedicated to eradicating Alzheimer’s, colon cancer and Newt Gingrich’s condescending smirk. He and his fraud buddies and buddettes are all about publicizing their alter-egos by spending more time having pictures taken of themselves wearing bandanas and folding their arms while leaning on their expensive Harleys than in actually propelling the goddamn bike from point A to point B; and when they are engaged in clogging up the roadways with their collective midlife crisis, a lady riding on the back of one of the bikes is always ready to take photos of the gang in marauding transit. The latter picture is blown up, framed and put above the mantle next to the more famous image of Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper riding their choppers through the Southwest in Easy Rider.

The need for self-promotion is why they take two-hour piss breaks after rolling, en masse, into a Burger King parking lot as if they were the Hosts of Suruman collecting in the valley of Helm’s Deep. The Columbian girls working at the Burger King imagine for a moment that they are back home in the middle of a fire-fight between the drug cartels and la policia…until they realize that all the ground-shaking noise is the result of a motley crew of overrated office workers with paunches masquerading as leather-clad hell-raisers – at which point, the muchachas start laughing at the American doofus-clowns. The gang loiters in the parking lot for two long hours because they need time to recount the action of that morning’s campaign, like how the Union soldiers shot the shit over their heroic exploits at the end of Gettysburg. The Pseudo Bikers thrill at the tale of how they braved the on-ramp of I-95 with the same courage as the boys on Cemetery Ridge repulsing Pickett’s Charge; how Fat Eddie (Edward Robbins, VP of Regional Sales at Twatzyme) gave a defiant finger to an 83-year-old woman driving a ’95 Saturn, not unlike how Winfred Hancock stepped in to assume command of the troops at the end of the critical first day; and how the gang infiltrated the fast lane between a 2005 Porsche and a 2011 Subaru Outback with the only casualty being Crazy Pete (Peter McMillan, Financial Analyst at Bears and ScrewYou), who suffered a vicious hemorrhoid attack that now leaves him in the Burger King parking lot bellyaching about he may have to call his wife to come pick him up in their GMC Yukon.

The Pseudo Biker appears to be a smart, professional man, except how smart is it to dress like a ten-year-old pirate while riding to the soundtrack of Bad to the Bone and then visualize yourself as baddest of the bad guys in the movie, Mad Max II, when you possess not an iota of the sack necessary to jump from a speeding motorcycle onto an equally speeding oil truck being driven by a guy who will someday direct the Crucifixion as a borderline snuff-film?

What is the purpose of dressing in black on Saturday after a week of wearing a suit and tie and having your head so far up the boss’s ass that you become a human colonoscope searching for polyps? Is the attempt to be perceived as a Son of Anarchy a way of saying that beneath the spiritless corporate drone lives a hard riding rebel? Or is it to say that beneath the hard riding rebel moans a spiritless corporate drone? Or are they one and the same person, each with their own standard uniform – one furnished by Brooks Brothers and the other by the textile factory equipped with only orange and black dye? The official drink of one is green-bottled beer, while the other is brown-bottled beer, though distributed by the same corporation. One deals in phony behavior in a well-lit conference room, while the other deals with phony behavior in a dark, smelly barroom. Both specimens, once middle-aged, grow ponytails. Both preach individuality, but travel in packs. Both sit for long periods of time and end their days with hemorrhoids. Now the Pseudo Biker is a real biker.

(Check out my website: http://www.authorjamesfjohnson.com)

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