Breaking Down the Walls, Barriers and the Glass Ceiling

There are many things that are enough to make the average woman go loony with rage. There are serious issues like the abuse of the refugee women in Darfur, or the starving children in our own country. And then there are the more mundane but still annoying problems that face many of us every single day. Like the misconceptions people have when they see a woman on a bike; or any woman for that matter, doing anything. It's the old don't-judge-a-book-by-its-cover thing and we all need to pay a little more attention to it.

Me, personally? I try never to make assumptions because I get enough of that myself, so you gals on bikes get nothing but respect and a little bit of envy from me. But, for those mamby pamby, stick-in-the-mud (or other) people who think you know anything at all about women in general or women motorcyclists in particular, guess again.

Let's break up a few of your goofy stereotypes, shall we?

2. Not all women who ride motorcycles are lesbians. (Conversely, not all lesbians ride motorcycles, either). We know why men perpetuate this particular little tale and it needs to stop.

3. Not all women who ride motorcycles work in bike shops, biker bars or tattoo parlors. My friend I mentioned before? She works as an administration assistant. Until recently she drove her motorcycle to work on every day that she could and caught a ride with friends on the days that she could not. Her ears are pierced once and as far as I know, she has no tattoos.

4. Not all women who drive motorcycles have low power or low paying jobs. The big boss, head honcho, whatever you want to call her (what we called her is not fit to repeat) was a big blonde and meaner than cat dirt. She rode a bike to work and then scared the stuffing out of everyone who crossed her path for the eight hours that she was there. Then she would slam the big wooden door to her office, storm out and hop on her bike, roaring off down the road. (We once joked that the bike would switch back to a broomstick at the end of the road). The last we heard of her, she had moved up to the third or fourth rung from the top of the ladder in the corporation and had traded in her bike for one that was bigger and badder and presumably made the broomstick change even faster.

As for me, I am an awesome blonde with a genius IQ and a horrible propensity for blurting out stupid things at the wrong-est time ever. People assume when they meet me that I am ditzy, or slow, and that of course, I absolutely have to be promiscuous. Wrong on every count! That is their problem, though, not mine.