In the summer of 1968, I purchased a Triumph 650cc Trophy motorcycle and was introduced to the passion, joys, and freedom of biking. That year, hanging out with my biker friends, I came to appreciate and understand the “biker culture”. In September, I drove my bike from Montreal to Vancouver, which was my first great adventures as a young man. I later sold my bike, began to settle down, but I never forgot that glorious year I spent on the roads.
Recently I went to Daytona Beach, Florida to the annual Bike Week 2012 rally—however this time it was not as a biker but as a photographer. I was not looking for old friends but only their ghosts—the symbols and relics from my wonderful experience of 45 years ago. Bike Week is where bikers go to have fun, to shock, to misbehave, and to exhibit themselves. It is a week of butts, boobs, bellies, bikes and lots of beer. It is as American as apple pie.
Its a world that I left a long time ago but still look back on with certain nostalgia and a touch of affection.