For all who know Motorcycle Riders

I saw you pull your child closer when we passed each other on the footpath.
But you didn't see me playing Santa at the local shopping center.


I saw you change your mind about going into the restaurant where a few of our riding group were having a meal.

But you didn't see me attending a meeting to raise more money for the Childrens Hospital.

I saw you wind up your window and shake your head when I rode by.
But you didn't see me riding behind you when you flicked your cigarette butt out the car window.

I saw you frown at me when I smiled at your children.

But you didn't see me when I took time off from work to run toys to the homeless kids.

I saw you stare at my long hair.

But you didn't see me and my mates shave our heads for kids with cancer.

I saw you roll your eyes at our leather coats and gloves.

But you didn't see me and my brothers donate our old coats and gloves to those that had none.

I saw you look in fright at my tattoos.

But you didn't see me cry as my children were born and have their name written over and over in my heart.

I saw you change lanes while rushing off to go somewhere.

But you didn't see me going home to be with my family.

I saw you complain about how loud and noisy our bikes can be.

But you didn't see me when you were changing the CD and drifted into my lane.

I saw you yelling at your kids in the car.

But you didn't see me pat my child's hands, knowing he was safe behind me.

I saw you reading the newspaper or map as you drove down the road.
But you didn't see me squeeze my wife's leg when she told me to take the next turn.

I saw you race down the road in the rain.

But you didn't see me get soaked to the skin so my son could have the car to go on his date.

I saw you run the yellow light just to save a few minutes of time.
But you didn't see me trying to turn right.

I saw you cut me off because you needed to be in the lane I was in.
But you didn't see me leave the road.

I saw you waiting impatiently for my friends to pass. But you didn't see me. It was like I wasn't there.

I saw you go home to your family.

But you didn't see me.

Because I died that day you cut me off.
I was just a bikie. A person with friends and a family. But, you didn't see me.


I saw you pull your child closer when we passed each other on the footpath.
But you didn't see me playing Santa at the local shopping center.


I saw you change your mind about going into the restaurant where a few of our riding group were having a meal.

But you didn't see me attending a meeting to raise more money for the Childrens Hospital.

I saw you wind up your window and shake your head when I rode by.
But you didn't see me riding behind you when you flicked your cigarette butt out the car window.

I saw you frown at me when I smiled at your children.

But you didn't see me when I took time off from work to run toys to the homeless kids.

I saw you stare at my long hair.

But you didn't see me and my mates shave our heads for kids with cancer.

I saw you roll your eyes at our leather coats and gloves.

But you didn't see me and my brothers donate our old coats and gloves to those that had none.

I saw you look in fright at my tattoos.

But you didn't see me cry as my children were born and have their name written over and over in my heart.

I saw you change lanes while rushing off to go somewhere.

But you didn't see me going home to be with my family.

I saw you complain about how loud and noisy our bikes can be.

But you didn't see me when you were changing the CD and drifted into my lane.

I saw you yelling at your kids in the car.

But you didn't see me pat my child's hands, knowing he was safe behind me.

I saw you reading the newspaper or map as you drove down the road.
But you didn't see me squeeze my wife's leg when she told me to take the next turn.

I saw you race down the road in the rain.

But you didn't see me get soaked to the skin so my son could have the car to go on his date.

I saw you run the yellow light just to save a few minutes of time.
But you didn't see me trying to turn right.

I saw you cut me off because you needed to be in the lane I was in.
But you didn't see me leave the road.

I saw you waiting impatiently for my friends to pass. But you didn't see me. It was like I wasn't there.

I saw you go home to your family.

But you didn't see me.

Because I died that day you cut me off.
I was just a bikie. A person with friends and a family. But, you didn't see me because you were blinded by your stereotypical beleif of people who ride bikes.

Repost this around in hope that people will understand the biker community.

If you don't feel moved by this, It sucks to be you.
I hope you never lose someone that rides.
Have a great week my friends
Beware of people who ride bikes.

Repost this around in hope that people will take notice of Bike Riders.

A few years after I was born, my Dad met a stranger who was new to our small Texas town. From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with this enchanting newcomer and soon invited him to live with our family. The stranger was quickly accepted and was around from then on. As I grew up, I never questioned his place in my family. In my young mind, he had a special niche. My parents were complementary instructors: Mom taught me good from evil, and Dad taught me to obey. But the stranger...he was our storyteller. He would keep us spellbound for hours on end with adventures, mysteries and comedies. If I wanted to know anything about politics, history or science,he always knew the answers about the past, understood the present and even seemed able to predict the future! He took my family to the first major league ball game. He made me laugh, and he made me cry. The stranger never stopped talking, but Dad didn't seem to mind. Sometimes, Mom would get up quietly while the rest of us were shushing each other to listen to what he had to say, and she would go to the kitchen for peace and quiet. (I wonder now if she ever prayed for the stranger to leave.) Dad ruled our household with certain moral convictions, but the stranger never felt obligated to honor them. Profanity, for example,was not allowed in our home... Not from us, our friends or any visitors. Our longtime visitor, however, got away with four-letter words that burned my ears and made my dad squirm and my mother blush. My Dad didn't permit the liberal use of alcohol. But the stranger encouraged us to try it on a regular basis. He made cigarettes look cool, cigars manly and pipes distinguished. He talked freely (much too freely!) about sex. His comments were sometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing. I now know that my early concepts about relationships were influenced strongly by the stranger. Time after time, he opposed the values of my parents, yet he was seldom rebuked... And NEVER asked to leave. More than fifty years have passed since the stranger moved in with our family. He has blended right in and is not nearly as fascinating as he was at first. Still, if you could walk into my parents' den today, you would still find him sitting over in his corner, waiting for someone to listen to him talk and watch him draw his pictures. His name?...............See below: We just call him, "TV." This should be required reading for every household P. S. He has a wife now....We call her "Computer."

Favourite Motor...

A link to check out Motorbikes.

http://home.planet.nl/~motors-20th-century/motors.html