A mild Autumn day....

I was just watching a documentary on Australian Bikie gangs, where the journalist and some of the bikies were imploring the community to see them as just normal people, no different to you or I. To that I say;

But you look like scary mother fuckers!? ??

I’m sure the media has a lot to do with their bad reputation, their clearly poor reporting of violent drive by shootings and the way they focus on the big hairy tattooed ones is utterly inappropriate.....

But still, they do look like scary mother fuckers......

Before you start going red in the face and shouting words like ‘Judgemental’ ‘Conclusion jumper’ and ‘Jingoism-ist’ (I just learnt that word!) at me, I have a story to tell you, it’s my story, a story about the day I came face to face with a bikie or two.

It was a mild Autumn day in Autumn, an ill wind was blowing and the clouds had moved in front of the sun, there was an eerie silence that could only mean one thing.......

Ok no seriously - I was walking past legal aid one day with my $5 lunch time pasta special in hand. A couple of large bikie men, with dark glasses and an inordinate amount of denim on were standing outside. They were smoking and observing the passing foot traffic. I hastened my step a little, wanting to get past quickly before they drew out their sawn off shot guns....... I should have remained calm however, because the pointy toe of my shoe got stuck in the cobblestone and I fell completely flat on my face.

My red pasta sauce splattered everywhere, my sunglasses scuttled up the street, one lens popping out and I really really hurt my knee. I’d been taken down.

Once the dust settled and as the embarrassment started to jab at my insides like a red hot poker, I was assisted to my feet.

Who was it that helped me? Was it my colleague who was walking up the street with me? No, she was too busy doubled over laughing. Was it the suits that were walking in the opposite direction? No, they quite literally stepped over me.

It was the two burly bikers. They stopped what they were doing and helped me up, one walked the short distance up the road to retrieve my sunglasses whilst the other held my arm and asked me if I was ok.

Shame.

I was utterly shamed.

A timely yet painful reminder to never judge a book by its cover.

So why are you telling us this Emily? Well I guess the thing is there are bad apples in every barrel, but ultimately I believe you should only judge people by the way they treat you.

So Biker 1 and Biker 2, I will never forget you, may the roads stretch ahead of you and the denim always be in plentiful supply. I’m sorry you look like such scary mother fuckers cause I really think alot of your troubles would be solved if your club approved material was terry towelling and the compulsory headgear was a jaunty sun visor.

Just saying....