As most of you know I believe that the iconic "biker outfit" is actually the crap us fudds wore in the 1960s. We didn't plan it, we just rode with what we owned. In fact, I didn't even buy "biker boots." I worked on a loading dock at Master Lock in Milwaukee, and they required steel toed boots. The Frye boots I wore on campus were worn by students, bikers, hippies and women.

I often point out that the first thing a newb does is hack the sleeves off of his brand new jean jacket. He doesn't know why--and most likely doesn't care. He just wants to be a biker.

A few days ago I did my laundry. I decided to toss in a few pairs of jeans, and in doing that I emptied out my pockets. First thing that struck me was that these jeans were not Harley jeans. It's winter here in Wisconsin, and I wear crappy Sears levi style pants to protect the good stuff. But I also noticed that I had been wearing a 20 year old pair of Rockport hiking boots, a generic Spyderco knife with a carabiner end, a lined jean jacket from a no-name bargain clearing house, and a 30 year old basket weave belt that fits my holsters.

Except for the chain wallet (and I keep the chain inside my pocket so I don't scratch stuff) and the usual crappy black T-shirt I have (because that's all I own now), I was completely devoid of "the biker costume." I don't wear conchos, and along with that distinction, I never wore spurs, nor do I have an armful of tattoos, or love/hate inked on my knuckles, a skull ring, pierced anything, and my new jean jacket has both of its sleeves.

I look like your gardener.

So, I ask you this. Doesn't the 30K bike under your butt make you a biker? Do you really want a "bro" at your back with such a fragile ego that a drunken townie will make him cry if his biker persona isn't trumpeted 24/7? Do I have to ride with the entire troupe of Barnum & Bailey clowns to enjoy the bar-and-shield?

I'm going to start asking, "Nice skull tattoo, what's your odometer mileage?"

I recently had a telephone call from another member who told me that he got banned from another "biker" forum. We had a brief laugh--I had been banned from there, as well.

I got under the skin of the resident fan-boys who thought they were bikers. You know the type, they dress like it's the 1960s, use all of the same 'Easy Rider' slang, dude, and are just a biscuit over twenty years old. If their biker costume is authentic they bought it on eBay or it's their grandfather's.

I really ticked that forum off when I used the analogy of my acting like a Zoot Suiter. I wasn't even born during WWII, and my use of that slang would have been clownish. Same dealie.

If you've just hacked off the sleeves of new jean jacket but you don't know what a "mousetrap" is, then you're not my bro, you're a poser. Take off my old clothes, and act your own age. If you're going to use your mom's computer in her luandry room, then show your appreciation and clean the lint trap once in a while. You're not a biker, you're an insult to my real life.

Alls I can say is if motorcycle forums are a reflection of the state of motorcycle riders heads and hearts are today then we are F'ing screwed as a group.

I'm already bracing myself. For the last few months "the average citizens" have been kicking the tires at bike shops. The moment the spring sun begins to shine, then the fresh ink and the newly created "outlaws" will take to the streets.

I think MoCo should build another "dark custom" called the 'The Bad-Ass.' It's black, but more importantly made from 90% plastic, just like the targeted market for such bikes.

I'm not sure these guys even like riding. I think they like parking their bikes and creating the first chromed social network. Save us...

As you might have guessed by now, this subject of "newbs in 1960s clothing" really gets to me. Maybe an explanation is needed.

When it comes to the 1960s, I sound more like "the best of times and the worst of times." It was turbulent. The war movement permeated everything, I had family issues, lots of motorcycle legislation was pending (and finally passed) and I was taking my first steps into the club scene--while going to college.

As I have previously said, I think it's important for young men to go through a "rite of passage." Some join the Boy Scouts or the army, some go to various schools and some travel to Europe. I joined a bike club. A bumpy ride to be sure, but I learned how to exist in the company of men. I use those skills and disappointments every day.

In that regard, my colors are a resume' of that transition. Every rip, tear, and patch kindles a memory of both the good and bad times. They even still smell of boozy honky-tonks after all of these years, and such things take you back.

So considering that, I now meet young bikers. Draped in fake HOG emblems, riding 'factory customs,' spewing jargon they do not understand and calling everyone "bro." These guys steal from me. They denigrate my past, my suffering and they usurp the joys and kinships I formed over the span of decades. And why?

My feeling is that they are so desperate to be bikers that they formulate a past of conquests--even if those accomplishments are mine. The next time you twenty-somethings dress up like vintage bikers remember that you are a thief to the memories and victories of others. You are not paying tribute to that bygone era, you're taking something that was never yours.

An interesting thing happened a few days ago, and the overall perception truly stunned me. Either I'm getting very shallow, or something is wrong with our sport. I talked to another 'real biker' on the telephone, and I realized our lifestyle is over. Let me explain.

There are two things that are often debated in bike forums. First is the tired old canard on just who and why people transition to become "real bikers." Second is that old fudds lament this transition because, frankly, there are no more real bikers.

My life changed. I'm no longer a real biker, I am a married, retired suburbanite with a little white-collar business who rides two nice Harleys--but does not actively live the typical biker lifestyle. Nor do I want to. I picked the handle "Tourist" to be sarcastically funny, but I am truly a tourist in the old world sense.

In the next breath let me state that while real bikers are all gone, it's only the romance of it all that continues. This has been for many decades. But also gone are the Zoot Suiters, the Haight Ashbury Improvement people (hippies), the Rhodesian mercenaries, the samurai (that's plural), and truly altruistic statesmen in our Republic.

All of those people represented a snapshot in time, and those times have passed into history. Here in Madison we have many sixty year old men, now balding and gray, who still wear serapes and sandals, shake their fists and yell, "Power to the people!" They even use VW micro buses to chase what's left of the Grateful Dead. These old hippies have been here in Madison since I was a college student. In an odd way, the Vietnam war was the best part of their lives.

So it is with twenty-something bikers. A few years back I ran into an "enemy," a dreaded Milwaukee Outlaw. He was with his wife at a coffee shop, clean shaven, nice sweater vest and he was a [b]rabbi[/b. In talking to him for an hour I found out that he had more phone numbers for members of my club in his cell than I did. Real bikers are gone, and in many ways that's a good thing. Time marches on, and we must march with it or die as dinosaurs.