One thing I always thought was interesting was the motorcycle culture in days before today. Today it seems like the trend is to buy the most expensive one you can. When motorcycle clubs were far more prevalent, people would work on their bikes every spare chance they had. They worked in car factories for their money and after paying their bills and putting food on their table, they’d take their $12.40 leftover and dump it in a bin towards their next set of chrome. 2 years later, they had an extremely respectable bike that the fresh meat would look at it and go “Man… that’s love for his machine.” The OLDER guys would say “Good start.” In the owner’s heart was the feeling of accomplishment for what he had. He knew what sweat went into it. Maybe some sacrifice. PROBABLY some sacrifice.
This kind of biker led a biker lifestyle. He breathed motorcycle fumes for air and thrived. He drank motor oil to quench his thirst. He cleaned his hands with engine grease. Not all “bikers” were like that.