Starbucks Bikers

I'm not sure why it struck me as hilarious to see members of a biker gang gathered for a pre-ride breakfast at Starbucks as when my son and I popped in for coffees on our way to West Palm this morning, but it did. As we waited, I struck up a brief conversation with the president of the Space Coast Chapter of the Defenders. They were dressed like bikers -- in jeans, boots, and leathers vests with their club's insignia -- but they were much better-groomed and more clean-cut than most bikers I know -- or, more precisely, used to know. Sure, they were a little salty in their talk among themselves, but they were polite and respectful when the spoke to me. I hadn't heard of this particular club, so I asked the president, as he stood and waited for his skim-milk latte (I'm making that up; I don't know what he ordered), if his group was national or only in the Southeast. He told me that the Defenders was based on the East Coast, but did have a chapter as far west as Iowa. I told him I used to hang out with some folks who rode with the Virginians and Southern Comfort. I didn't ask if he knew about either club, and I don't know if those clubs are national or regional. Pleasant Sunday morning chit-chat.

Sometimes the son who was with me, being rather shy himself, really dislikes my approaching people I don't know and starting conversations. I've told him that those people are under no obligation to respond, and I like to learn about others. Besides, it's a fun way to kill time. When we left Starbucks, I told him that it was probably a good thing I hadn't mentioned that I also used to know some Pagans and Hell's Angels. I know context is everything; while all the bikers I knew so many years ago were very nice to me, I recognize that they weren't always nice to everyone else. One of them went to prison for murder. He would later write letters to a mutual friend -- long, beautifully-written epistles about his life, his thoughts, and the characters he met while incarcerated. His conviction was one of those early lessons in "people aren't always what they seem."

As I type this, I'm getting link suggestions in a task bar on the right side of my page. Apparently there was a deadly biker war at a Starbucks, started over pumpkin spice lattes. Or maybe those are two separate stories. Maybe Starbucks of more "biker" than I realized. Still, it's hard to be really badass when you're saying the name of any Starbucks drink -- even if you're riding a Harley and wearing leather.