Riding about
Jan. 12th, 2010 12:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
snousleWell, my sexy saddle-patched Carhartts are apparently Not Too Gay for the HOG guys. Went on a short ride on Sunday to Cloverdale and many of them asked where I got them. So I referred them to Offramp Leather. I'm sure they'll find Paul's shop very interesting. Heh.
I feel a bit silly with the HOG group since Harley riders are so relentlessly conformist. Exactly the same leathers, the same T-shirts, more or less the same helmets... being a flaming fag isn't much of a problem, but God help you if you have a water-cooled bike. Let's just say that I'm working with a different color palette here.
It was actually a Ladies Of Harley (LOH) ride on which the HOG group is invited, i.e. there were three women and about fifteen men. This is kind of funny because I've used this acronym for years, and in the world of genetics, it stands for "Loss Of Heterozygosity". Which means, roughly, that you're missing one copy of a chromosome. Like maybe the X chromosome? LOL.
Anyway, I hadn't been on a ride for a while and had been feeling kind of out of it - the members were always polite but didn't exactly embrace my participation. Yet on re-appearing after an absence of six months or so I found the group quite welcoming. It seems that one's acceptance in a group doesn't have so much to do with how much time you spend with them, but rather how long you've been doing so. The threshold of acceptance with this club appears to be about 2 years. And OH MY GOD THERE ARE SO MANY HOT SCRUBBY BIKERS IN THIS TOWN. Basically every big hairy lug that manages to get a little cash together immediately throws it all away to buy some loud fat-ass cruiser. Oh darn.
After the ride, I continued down to Guerneville and hung out at the Cattle Co. There's a lean and crusty guy in town I've had an eye for for years, but never got anywhere with him. But this time, he (literally) jumped into my lap and got me in a lip-lock right at the bar. Turns out he's recently single and thus available - goodness, he had been such a good boy for so long! And, on getting under his shirt, I discovered that he's covered in fur from head to toe. As in "can't see his tattoos" kind of fur. WOOF! Unfortunately due to circumstances he suggested we might have a date in February. Oh well, I've waited a year already, what's another month?
It seems that wearing actual Western wear to a nominally country bar has good results. Want to drink for free? Find an establishment that is struggling to attract a particular kind of clientele, and give them what they want! It doesn't work every time, of course, but it certainly doesn't hurt. I bet these pants are going to save me more money on bar tabs than they cost in the first place.
I feel a bit silly with the HOG group since Harley riders are so relentlessly conformist. Exactly the same leathers, the same T-shirts, more or less the same helmets... being a flaming fag isn't much of a problem, but God help you if you have a water-cooled bike. Let's just say that I'm working with a different color palette here.
It was actually a Ladies Of Harley (LOH) ride on which the HOG group is invited, i.e. there were three women and about fifteen men. This is kind of funny because I've used this acronym for years, and in the world of genetics, it stands for "Loss Of Heterozygosity". Which means, roughly, that you're missing one copy of a chromosome. Like maybe the X chromosome? LOL.
Anyway, I hadn't been on a ride for a while and had been feeling kind of out of it - the members were always polite but didn't exactly embrace my participation. Yet on re-appearing after an absence of six months or so I found the group quite welcoming. It seems that one's acceptance in a group doesn't have so much to do with how much time you spend with them, but rather how long you've been doing so. The threshold of acceptance with this club appears to be about 2 years. And OH MY GOD THERE ARE SO MANY HOT SCRUBBY BIKERS IN THIS TOWN. Basically every big hairy lug that manages to get a little cash together immediately throws it all away to buy some loud fat-ass cruiser. Oh darn.
After the ride, I continued down to Guerneville and hung out at the Cattle Co. There's a lean and crusty guy in town I've had an eye for for years, but never got anywhere with him. But this time, he (literally) jumped into my lap and got me in a lip-lock right at the bar. Turns out he's recently single and thus available - goodness, he had been such a good boy for so long! And, on getting under his shirt, I discovered that he's covered in fur from head to toe. As in "can't see his tattoos" kind of fur. WOOF! Unfortunately due to circumstances he suggested we might have a date in February. Oh well, I've waited a year already, what's another month?
It seems that wearing actual Western wear to a nominally country bar has good results. Want to drink for free? Find an establishment that is struggling to attract a particular kind of clientele, and give them what they want! It doesn't work every time, of course, but it certainly doesn't hurt. I bet these pants are going to save me more money on bar tabs than they cost in the first place.
