Hello fellow riders, Riding on the highway with the ocean as your vista is always a great way to travel. Well it is great if you don’t get harassed by a “wanna-be-if-they-could-be” so called ‘outlaw’ wanna be motorcycle riders. You know the type? It’s your American made motorcycle aficionado who only comes out on weekends wearing all kinds of paraphernalia announcing their support of said American motorcycle manufacturer. This type of rider is of the mistaken belief that they are tougher & harder than granite. They also mistakenly believe they are so mean that outlaw clubs will approach him to join them. Guess what? That isn’t the way it works. For the sake of this blog, we shall call the American motorcycle aficionado “Colin”. Colin was riding a recent model from this American manufacturer. I was on my TuonoRR. In my view I’d already made the better decision. I was riding on the Sea Cliff Bridge coming back up North from the NSW South Coast coming back into Sydney. I was doing what we all do on such a road, enjoying the scenery, enjoying the bike and being aware of what was going on around me, what was on the horizon and what was behind me. I noticed Colin in my mirrors as his approach was getting closer & closer. Colin arrived in full voice (thanks to what must have been several holes in this pipe) and positioned himself at arm’s length to my left hand side. It didn’t bother me that much to be honest. What did bother me was Colin’s repeated attempts to kick me over while yelling something about my bike. Colin was a tall man, more sinew than muscular, but he had enough of size to be taken with caution. I’ve always had the belief that you never underestimate anybody you don’t know and Colin’s behavior was such that I didn’t want to underestimate what he’d be capable of. For a moment I thought I was dreaming. I quickly realized that Colin was not an aberration but real and his kicks had intent. So I just twisted the throttle to get some space between me Colin. It worked. Colin was relegated to the distance but stayed behind me. I didn’t let him catch up. The Tuono had too much power & speed in comparison. Eventually I hit traffic lights and so did Colin. He filtered through and he pulled up to my left. Again. I flipped open my visor and asked him “what’s your problem mate? You could have knocked me over back there. You right?” Colin, wearing the obligatory open face black helmet, snarled back and told me that I was a “little ####ing faggot…” To my luck the lights turned green and I took off fast before Colin could finish what was clearly a highly intellectual statement. This time I wasn’t holding back and Tuono did the rest. Colin was a distant dot in my mirrors. I just shook my head and couldn’t believe I’d just met a person who should have had a Darwin Award by this stage of his life. I got to Blakehurst on the Princes Highway and just like a terrible disease that doesn’t go away without medication Colin appeared once again. I could not believe my eyes. At this point the traffic was building up again and I was starting to think about trying to find a local Police Station. The glitch in that thought was that I had no idea where a Police Station was. I just focused on what I was doing & getting home. Colin wasn’t too far behind me but he was closing in fast. If nothing else Colin was committed. I would not call his riding style “smooth” but his commitment in catching up with me was clear. In some way it was comical but in other ways I was now starting to worry. My flight or fight reaction was making its presence known. As luck had it I stopped at traffic lights because they were red. Coming up behind me was Colin and a Suzuki GSXR1000. Colin kept following me as did the GSXR. Another set of traffic lights and another Red Light. Colin filtered and came to my left hand side. The GSXR came to my right hand side. As Colin stopped he again started giving me some well enunciated advice. Out of nowhere the rider on the GSXR opened his visor and told Colin what he’d do to him in the next few seconds if Colin didn’t find a place to give himself some sexual gratification. I was stunned but Colin was ashen white. Literally Colin looked as though his bowls had just evacuated involuntarily. I didn’t know who this GSXR rider was but I’d be lying if to say he just made my day. The lights turned green & both GSXR & I took off fast. Colin lagged very far behind us both. We continued along the Princes Highway and both myself & the unknown GSXR let our bikes do what they had been designed for and really took off. He was a much more skilled rider than I was but I’d had enough and wasn’t going to give Colin any chance so I equaled my personal best aggressive traffic riding at above legal pace. At Brighton Le-Sands the GSXR rider slowed down, gave me a nod with a thumbs up and took off like he was late to his own wedding. I waved goodbye and continued matching my best ever inner city riding speed. There was no way I was going to risk meeting up with Colin again. It is a shame those of us who love riding should put up with Darwinian escapists like Colin. I have no doubt that if I was 6ft and built like the proverbial outdoor lavatory Colin would never have bothered me. I’m not what I’d call ‘intimidating’ on a motorbike in anyway. Colin was a caricature of what I’m starting to think is a-must for the weekend & weekday American motorcycle manufacturer aficionado. What is that caricature? It is as follows: - They never nod to say hi when you pass them. - They never say hi at the lights. - They are never seen smiling as they ride. I can't help but think what would happen if Colin had come up to a cyclist, a Learner motorbike rider, or a female rider? (could be our daughter, wife, sister, mother, friend..) It makes me wonder. In hindsight what I should have done way back after the initial kick attempt was to have taken off and rode like a bat outta hell to give Colin no chance of catching me. Live & learn I guess. If I do meet Colin again, and there isn’t anybody around, I’ll slot him ;~ Anyhow I salute you all.