I Am Prejudiced

So, I'm at a party last week and I get introduced to some Boomers who own motorcycles because . . . well, you know, I have a motorcycle. Nice people, but I assume they are the Hardley crowd because we're in Wisconsin and we're all old. I'm trying to politely escape and get back to my pouting ("You can't make me have fun.") grandson who has drug himself away from his video game addiction to hang out with us. After a while I'm back in the party crowd and one of the bikers starts talking about his motorcycle. Turns out it is a 1999 Suzuki SVS, one of my favorite bikes of all time. His buddies ride a BMW 800GS, an '88 Honda Hawk, and a V-Strom. All nice guys, not an asshole in the bunch, and not a Harley in the bunch. I clearly missed out on a couple of really interesting conversations earlier because of my allergy to group rides, Harley owners, and the usual biker bullshit.