“Outlaw” Bikers

I was at Harley-Davidson last week dropping off Nyx so she could get shod.

This gentleman walks up and starts talking. I've met him before, but I can never remember his name. TBI or apathy, you decide. From what I gather, he's involved with the local H.O.G. group, retired, and currently riding around the country on two wheels.

At this point I was still hot under the collar about the Santa Fe City Council and their brilliant idea to purchase sound sensors so they could automate enforcement and fine motorcycle riders.

So naturally, I figured I'd found an ally. Here's a guy standing in a Harley dealership. Leather. Motorcycle. Road stories. The whole package.

A biker.

And here's the thing: whether they're conservative, liberal, libertarian, apolitical, rich, poor, retired, or still working, most bikers I've met share one common trait: they value freedom. Maybe that's why they're willing to throw a leg over a machine that can kill them. Maybe it's because motorcycles attract people who are comfortable accepting risk in exchange for autonomy. I don't know. But biker culture has always struck me as fundamentally libertarian. Live and let live. Mind your own business. Leave me the fuck alone and I'll leave you the fuck alone.

That's why I thought I had found an ally.

So I start bitching.

I start talking about outsourcing enforcement to technology. About removing due process. About how the rules of reality are different for motorcycles than they are for cars. Not traffic laws. Reality laws.

Traffic laws were written by car drivers for car drivers. Reality doesn't give a shit about your legislation. Reality says motorcycles survive through maneuverability, visibility, and keeping idiots from merging directly into your body. Reality says loud motorcycles get noticed. Reality says a biker boxed into traffic is a biker at risk.

Reality says I spent six months rebuilding my life after some woman failed to yield the right of way and nearly killed me.

And what happened to her?

Not a fucking thing.

No ticket. No accountability.

Nothing.

So from my perspective, the City of Santa Fe seems perfectly comfortable with people mowing down motorcyclists, but God help us if a Harley makes too much noise.

You get hit by a car? Meh.

Five hundred dollar fine because your motorcycle made scary noises? Now we're paying attention.

So there I am venting to what I assume is a fellow biker, and possibly even an outlaw. And then he says: "Actually, the noise is pretty bad. I don't put loud pipes on my bike because my wife..."

And honestly, I stopped listening right there.

Are you fucking kidding me?

This guy is standing in a Harley dealership looking like he just escaped from an Easy Rider casting call, and he's advocating for more regulation. More laws. More government. More enforcement.

Meanwhile we already have laws. I've heard of one called disturbing the peace. Maybe fucking enforce that one.

What I thought was an outlaw biker turned out to be a crossing guard with a Road King.

And that's when it hit me. This isn't a biker. This is a boomer wearing biker clothes. There's a difference.

Because let's be honest here. The Baby Boomers might be the single most over-regulated generation in American history. And not because they were victims of regulation, but because they fucking created it.

Special license to cut hair. Special license to turn a wrench. Special license to swing a hammer. Special license to shingle a roof. Business licenses. Tax accounts. Permits. Inspections. Forms. Applications. Permissions. Fees.

An entire bureaucracy dedicated to asking permission before a free citizen can do something that should require nobody's fucking permission.

And somehow these same people still look around and say: "You know what this country needs?" More government. More regulation. More control. More comfort. More safety. More fences. More rules. More bureaucrats.

And here's the thing that drives me crazy. This generation inherited one of the most prosperous nations in human history.

Cheap land. Cheap housing. Cheap education. Cheap energy. Cheap building materials. Cheap everything.

They inherited opportunity on a silver platter.

Then spent decades pulling the ladder up behind them.

Zoning. Permits. Restrictions. Regulations. Barriers to entry. Professional licensing. Government expansion.

And now younger generations are expected to navigate the obstacle course they built.

Meanwhile this "outlaw biker" is standing there advocating for even more government involvement in daily life.

Buddy, you ride a Harley. You don't work for the Ministry of Compliance. Pick a fucking lane.

Because at some point the whole thing starts to feel absurd.

The generation that spent decades preaching freedom now seems obsessed with regulation. The people who benefited most from liberty now seem terrified of it.

And nowhere is that more obvious than a biker demanding more rules for bikers.

An outlaw biker advocating for more government is like a vegan running a steakhouse. The whole premise falls apart under the slightest scrutiny.

So no, I didn't find an ally that day. I found a symptom. A leather-clad reminder of how we ended up here in the first place.

And honestly? That's a lot more depressing than the sound sensors.