True Colors

Gramma, 

Bikers have a lot of stereotypes to live up to.  When not tearing up the road on bikes, they are seen as hard drinking, tattooed tough guys who are plotting anarchy.  They are seen as willing to tear apart a bar in the process of defending their good name against some other antagonistic faction.  These guys have no hygiene interests.  We are not those guys.  Our guys are willing to take time to do crafts.  There are times when it is important to be who you are and explore talent options other than martial arts. 

After riding all day to participate in a distant Toys for Tots Ride with another club, we checked into our hotel.  The following morning  we found ourselves with several hours to kill before events began.  A park, complete with a lake, pavilion, and ice cream stand presented itself.  There was something else going on in the parking lot when we pulled in.  Doors were stacked everywhere--inside doors, outside doors, industrial doors, smallish under the stairway doors--with and without knobs. 

It was part of a summer art program intended to get people in touch with their inner Van Gough.  There were doors with flowers and graphic designs.  Some tried to be pretty, others were ugly, but interesting.  Some people worked on their doors every weekend.  The doors would eventually be covered with spar varnish and installed along a garden path.  A woman in a sunhat and muumuu was overseeing the project.  She was flustered when the men in black said they were in. 

We chose an industrial, battleship grey door with a heavy window that looked unbreakable.  We hoarded the orange, dark grey, and black paint and magic markers.  The guys began to outline their bike colors in large letters.  When it came to drawing the bike engine of their center patch, they found themselves artistically challenged.  We had run out of our basic colors and the sunhat lady was off in her periwinkle bugmobile to fetch more. 

We watched the industrious college art student making easy progress on his work.  He was using all the colors available.  One of the guys poked him out of his oblivion.  He removed his ear buds.  He was a hippie type and not intimidated.  He accepted a fist full of dollars and was pretty soon drawing a nice engine replica on the center of our door. 

While the guys were otherwise engaged, the girls worked on the window.  Soon, a guy behind bars emerged.  People gathered at a distance to watch.  After our prison door was finished, we walked over to the ice cream stand.  There were the usual side glances.  How scary can bikers with ice cream cones be?  The local paper took a group photo.  The guys were recognized as a roving band of artist bikers doing a Toys for Tots Run.  Sometimes you just have to show your true colors.