I love my Suzuki M109R. It’s powerful, comfortable, looks incredible, and pulls like a freight train. Every time I park it, people wander over to check it out. It’s a great conversation starter.

Along with the compliments, though, I’ve heard a few comments like, “You’re not a real biker.”

That got me thinking.

What is a real biker? And more importantly… am I one?

I’ve been riding motorcycles since I was a little kid tearing around on dirt bikes. There was a point in my life when I was putting over 40,000 miles a year on two wheels between multiple bikes. Does none of that count because I don’t ride the “right” brand or fit someone else’s image?

So what makes someone a “real biker?”

Do you have to belong to a motorcycle club? Ride only Harleys? Wear a cut? Wear leather? Never wear a helmet? Always wear a helmet? Ride 50,000 miles a year?

Everyone seems to have a different answer.

When I hear the phrase real biker, I think of the old-school riders. The men and women who rode coast to coast long before GPS, heated gear, or Bluetooth headsets. If their bike broke down on the side of the road, they could rebuild half the engine with a tool roll, some baling wire, and a questionable amount of confidence.

Many of them were loyal to Harley-Davidson or Indian, but they also understood something that seems to be fading today. Respect wasn’t determined by the badge on your gas tank. If you rode and treated people with respect, you usually got the same in return.

Some of today’s riders use the terms real biker and biker interchangeably, but I think the motorcycle world has become much more diverse than that.

Some people define a “real biker” as someone who belongs to a club, wears colors, rides primarily Harleys or Indians, and spends thousands of miles each year riding with their brothers or sisters.

Others think of a “biker” as someone who enjoys weekend rides with friends, poker runs, bike nights, and charity events. They may only ride a few thousand miles a year, but they still love being on two wheels.

Neither definition is wrong. They’re just different ways people enjoy the same hobby.

So where does that leave me?

Honestly, I don’t think I’m either one.

I’m a motorcycle enthusiast.

I love motorcycles. Period.

Harleys, Indians, Suzukis, Hondas, Yamahas, Triumphs, BMWs, Ducatis… if it has two wheels and an engine, there’s probably something about it I appreciate. It genuinely makes me sad watching so many of the great metric cruisers disappear from the market. At the same time, I think it’s awesome that Harley-Davidson stepped into the adventure bike world with the Pan America. I’d love to throw a leg over one someday.

Most of the time I ride alone.

It’s not because I dislike group rides. I enjoy them occasionally. But there’s something peaceful about taking off by yourself, twisting the throttle when you want, stopping wherever you feel like it, and simply enjoying the ride on your own terms.

At the end of the day, I don’t really care what label someone puts on me.

Real biker.

Biker.

Motorcycle enthusiast.

They’re just words.

The only thing that really matters is the reason we all throw a leg over a motorcycle in the first place.

We love to ride.

So ride often. Ride safely. Respect the people you meet along the way, regardless of what they ride.

Because the best thing about motorcycles has never been the logo on the tank.

It’s the freedom you feel when the kickstand goes up.

Stay safe, and keep the shiny side up.