Biker Mission

When you think Harley, you think biker. You think rough cut, bearded, denim loving miscreants with attitudes, burley dudes that would laugh at a fiberglass composite helmet. Lately, you might think of a middle aged guy with disposable income, the type that goes to the big rally every year, but trailers his bike until he’s 40 miles outside Sturgis. Tattoos, bandanas, cut off sleeves, big clunky boots, all things that may come to mind.

You don’t think of a scrawny bean pole wearing black slacks, a buttoned up long sleeve dress shirt, and tie. More importantly, you don’t think of two scrawny bean poles wearing black slacks, buttoned up long sleeve dress shirts, and ties. Nor do you fancy your Harley riders to be the type that would don name tags.

See when I was a kid, Mormons did drive around on bikes, but they had to peddle them.

Apparently rethinking marketing strategies doesn’t just occur in the boardrooms of the Fortune 500.

I’m assuming Mormon. They were sporting the uniform de rigueur. They didn’t stop on my street, so I can’t be certain.

Two adult males on a bike together is weird. Sorry, kids, but it is. Two adult males on a bike, dressed up like it’s Sunday-go-to-meeting time is weird and bizarre. Two adult males on a bike, dressed up like it’s Sunday-go-to-meeting time, with the guy in back wrapping both arms around the guy in front is weird, bizarre, and frankly, disturbing.