Motorcycle Emptiness

Aren't motorcyclists the ultimate illusionists?    
 
Summers here, almost.  The flowers are in bloom, the sun is out and so are the bikers.  As they growl and buzz all over the back of your car like a swarm of wasps, weaving in and out of the traffic to get to nowhere fast, you get the impression that they are big growling monsters of men.  All with life membership of the Hells Angels they are certainly people who you'd do best to avoid eye contact with.  
 
The big bikes and speed create an image of real hard bruising men and big muscley guys who would crush mere mortal car drivers in the palms of their hands if they had the temerity to not mount the kerb to let them pass.
 
Now contrast that with the reality of the perimeter wall outside various country pubs the length and breadth of our green and pleasant land on a warm summer Sunday evening.   These monsters dismount their trusty steeds in their hundreds and peel off the sweaty leathers from the helmet down exposing not the hairy goliath type men we move to the side of the road in fear of, but an army of puny, bow legged, middle aged accountant style men with white t-shirts who wouldn't scare my Gran.  
 
Dont let the big machines and leathers fool you next time.