Five Riders I’ll Never Understand
I think it’s safe to say I’m deep in the motorcycle culture. It’s not just a hobby — it’s in my DNA. It’s a core part of who I am.
But just like any culture, this one’s not perfect. And if you pretend it is, you’re either intentionally blind or just not paying attention. Every subculture has its quirks, and the moto world is no different. So today, I’m airing out a few of mine — five types of riders that make me tilt my head and go, “What the hell?”
You might agree with me. You might think I’m an asshole. Either way, I’m keeping it real.
The Cosplayers
You know the type — their entire wardrobe screams HARLEY-DAVIDSON, but their odometer barely hits 2,500 miles a year. They’ve got enough dealer tees to go three months without doing laundry. They’ve got the hat. The jacket. The socks. Hell, probably even a bar-and-shield toothbrush.
But ask them to ride in the rain or on a weekday and it’s excuse city. “Too hot.” “Might rain.” “Don’t wanna get the bike dirty.” Bro, come on.
If you love the brand that much, why don’t you ride it?
Look, I’m not trying to be a dick — okay maybe I am — but rocking all the gear while rarely riding is poser behavior. Respect in this world is earned in miles, not merch.
The “Influencers”
Not all moto influencers are bad. Some rip hard and post stuff worth seeing. But man… a lot of it is just confusing.
Let’s start with the basics: it’s called social media, right? So how “social” is it to follow 15 people while racking up 200k followers? Or to beg for likes but never give them?
And let’s be honest about what gets traction:
Show your tits? Boom, influencer.
Drop 6 grand on a paint job but skip suspension upgrades? Influencer.
Burnouts and wheelies in a parking lot? Influencer.
Post a meme about hiding parts from your wife? Influencer.
Ride 1,000 miles in two days, in all weather, and talk about it? Crickets.
There’s just something broken about that formula. And yeah, maybe it’s society. But it still baffles the hell out of me.
The Whiners
You’ve heard them:
“I waved to a Harley rider and he didn’t wave back. Harley riders are all arrogant assholes!”
Jesus Christ. Get over it.
Some wave. Some don’t. I ride a Harley and half the time I don’t get waved back by other Harley riders. It’s not personal, it’s just a thing.
For the record, I don’t usually wave first. But if you wave at me, I’ll nod, throw a finger, whatever. Unless I’m deep in traffic or didn’t see you, you’ll get a gesture. Just don’t expect me to drop into a full parade wave while I’m trail braking into a downhill curve.
The point is: waving doesn’t define the ride. If your whole mood hinges on whether a stranger gave you a nod, maybe take a beat and ask why that matters so much.
The “Backpackers”
I hate this term. Just… hate it.
“Backpack” is what some folks — usually younger women on social media — call themselves when they wanna ride on the back of someone’s bike. Not ride their bike. Not be a passenger. Be a “backpack.”
No. Stop.
Call it riding two-up. Call it being a pillion. But backpack? You realize you’re not an accessory someone wears, right?
It’s not just cringe, it’s like weird cosplay language. You sound like a wannabe TikTok groupie, not someone who actually respects the machine or the ride.
If you’re gonna ride with someone, bring more to the table than slang and selfies. Otherwise, stay in the comments section.
The “Therapists”
We’ve all seen the stickers:
“I don’t need therapy, I ride a motorcycle.”
Cool story, bro. But let’s break this down.
Yes, riding feels good. Yes, it’s been proven to lower stress and improve mood. Yes, a long ride can clear your head in a way few things can.
But if you’ve got serious trauma, unresolved anger, or years of mental baggage? That bike ain’t fixing shit.
It might numb it. It might delay it. But it won’t untangle it.
I’ve had rides that helped me work through tough stuff. I’ve also had rides where I thought I should probably call a real therapist as soon as I got home. Riding helps — it doesn’t heal. Don’t confuse the two.
Wrap-Up: Call It Like You See It
Look, we all have quirks. And I’m sure I’m somebody else’s weird-ass rider type. But these five — they get to me. Maybe they get to you too. Or maybe you think I’m just a crotchety, judgmental bastard. Fair enough.
All I know is I feel better for getting it off my chest.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go for a ride.
I won’t be wearing a Harley shirt.
I’ll wave if you do.
I won’t be a backpack.
I won’t be popping wheelies for clout.
And I sure as hell won’t be calling it therapy.
Keep ripping. Keep it real.
See you out there.
— Bagger Shawn
Founder, Steel Rippers
