It’s great to see more women on motorcycles these days.
About a year ago, I read that women are a new target demographic for the manufacturers because we are the ones buying a big percentage of all the new bikes.
I have to admit, a little part of me is sad to resign myself to the fact that I may no longer be one of the very few chicks riding their own bike. You get a certain amount of attention in that situation. It’s not all bad.
I started riding in 2001 and I still consider myself a new rider. Not like some of the women I met on my first group ride.
I have met some of the most interesting women I know, riding. They are independent, smart and not about to be left behind in the dust. Just the fact that they are on their own bike usually is a message.
Three of them I met on my first Klondike Run.
One, tough as nails and smarter than most people I know, started and organized the annual Klondike Run in Dawson.
Another looked after the poker run for the group riding in from Whitehorse. Let me phrase it another way: she ran the poker run and the ride down to Dawson. She rode better and faster than all but one of the guys (sorry guys but you know it’s true) and made sure everyone was looked after, even me, the slow newbie.
The third one joined me in a couple of pitchers of Bellinis in the sun of a local hotel deck on the sunny Saturday afternoon after a ride out to the creeks. It is important to have balance, don’t you think?
This month I met a woman who had to be in her 70s riding on the back of her guy’s bike, all the way from the southern tip of South America.
Riding east to Ontario a few years ago, I was surprised at how many people judged a girl riding alone as amazing, foolish, brave, gutsy or just plain irresponsible. On the entire trip I did not meet one other biker chick travelling on her own and only a few lone guys.
The Yukon license plate told them how far I had come but, because I was a girl riding alone, the picture didn’t make sense for them.
With more and more women on bikes, yes, I may be losing a bit of my special status, a bit of the “wow” factor. But a bigger part of me is proud. We are finally coming into our own, us girls, playing with our own toys.
Biker chicks are here to stay guys, so get used to it.
Oh, and by the way, most of us don’t get hairy and grow pot bellies from riding. But we do start wearing leather pants.
