It can only mean one thing.
It’s Bike Week!
In the park right beside our apartment, bikers are -at this moment- assembling for a large biker picnic. I can hear their engines revving. If I were any good at throwing, I could toss something onto their tents — really, they are right out my window. I can hear their music blaring. Did I mention I can hear their engines revving?
You may be thinking of a park filled with stereotypical biker guys. Yes, there are some of those guys out there; but you can’t really stereotype the people at Bike Week. I was just looking out the window, and there are people of different races and nationalities, men wearing golf shirts and jeans, women wearing jeans and tank tops, some in helmets, some not, some young people and some senior citizens. There are men with black leather vests with twenty or so pins covering the front. And there are young women with shorts and t-shirts and little white Keds tennis shoes. I just saw a woman in a black tank top and skin-tight jeans standing beside a woman in a lime green sweater set, dress pants, and heels. You can’t stereotype the people at the Bike Week festival.