Growing up in NYC motorcycles were rare. When I did see one it was a chrome laden full dresser. Ugly heavy things with conchos, lights, flags, streamers, and fringe in late fifties fashion. This was pre-chopper. Pre-Easy Rider. Then I saw Steve McQueen making the Nazis look stupid. Acting "wise". Riding that "German Triumph" down country roads, across meadows, and up grassy hills with the Werhmark nipping at his heels. Then he stops. Pulls the gas cap off and jiggles the bike side to side. Does he have enough gas to make it to the Swiss border? He goes for it. First Jump. Second jump. Down, into the barbed wire. He pats the bullet riddled gas tank. Thanks girl. His surrender is more an act of defiance. And that smirk. That's when I became a Biker in my heart.

I was nine years old.