I figure I'm about 12% Irish. One of my great grandmothers was from that homeland and on another branch of my multicultural family tree a great great grandpa left those green hills to come to America in the early 1800's with his Irish wife and children – one being my great grandpa. Is my 12% scientific? No – but it does allow me some level of Irish dignity when St. Patty's Day comes around and the rest of my ancestral tribes must move to the back seat. As soon as those bagpipes start to play, the tears come to my eyes as my sliver of Irish soul wells up with pride.
Now what does that have to do with biking? Well the way I see it – all motorcyclists share a common culture just like all the Irish sons and daughters, Bohemian generations or Italians or Vietnamese or whatever. Though we can't trace our family trees with intertwining branches we can hail each other on the open road and recognize our alliance. We can join others on a poker run or memorial ride and we are kin. What is it about motorcycling that creates such family feelings and bond of brotherhood?
For one thing – bikers are a minority. Sticking together creates that strength in numbers feeling. Heaven knows we need it what with those in bigger vehicles and overzealous legislators against us. We need each other. And maybe the ease of identification – two wheels is the obvious mutual trait handed down for generations – seals the bonds quickly. What is clear is bikers defend each other, remember their fallen, curse the cagers in unison and promote the adoption of any who take on the life of biking. I'm glad to be part of that family.
And - Beannachtam na Feile Padraig!
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