I would never say that my appearance is my main focus in life, however I do try to make myself presentable whenever able…in my own way. However, if I do find myself in a situation that demands that I be dressed to a certain standard, but for circumstances I cannot meet those standards, then I do not let it ruin my day…in fact I embrace my individuality, take a deep breath, raise a smile and march on as best I can.
Yesterday was a typical example but was hardly groundbreaking either, but the looks I got were priceless. After spending the morning out on the trails and in the forest tracks I returned back home but needed a quick stop at the supermarket to get some provisions for the evening ahead.
Suffice to say that the morning was a muddy affair…the bike was covered in mud and my lower legs and boots were covered with multiple layers of crud. Now this wasn’t just any old mud or dench water…no…this was a mix of putrified puddle water, rotting forest mud and pond sludge.
I started out in the morning with a fresh pair of trousers and newly cleaned and polished boots. In fact you might even say I was the model of a cleansed biker and not the dirty, greasy type that would normally be associated with anyone who entertains our pastime.
Normally I do not even look at my bike nor at myself whenever I come back from a ride. I just stow the bike in the garage and think about spray washing it down later, slip off the muddy boots and trousers and let them dry off by themselves in the garage…ready to be used the next day.
However, as I pulled into the parking bay outside of the supermarket, I noticed that there were many finely dressed patrons entering the abode of the upper class and expensive purveyor and retailer of domestic wares. I immediately noticed the divide as I stepped off the bike. I didn’t look like a workman nor did I look like a tramp…but I looked like the mud monster who had crawled out of the sludge lagoon and was about to crap all over the place.
With an ‘Oh Well!’ I grabbed a basket and began to walk around the shop, picking out items as I went along. I did glance back to notice a trail of mud droppings that I had left in my wake but at least I was relatively dry, so they could easily be swept up…or so I thought.
After running the gauntlet in a couple of aisles, I finally made it to the cashier but not before being on the receiving end of some very unnecessary and scornful looks from both staff and customers. Anybody would think I was a serial killer or something just as heinous.
Of course I acknowledge that my appearance may not have been the most appropriate but given the circumstances it was hardly the crime of the century. So I paid over my coin and bagged the delights, then headed back to the bike to scurry back to the cleaners.
I always think to myself that I should never be embarrassed by the way I look, no matter what the situation is and indeed I do not, no matter how hard others may wish to make me feel so. In fact out of defiance, when I got back home, I merely parked the bike up, hung up my clothes on the hook, boots on the shelf…all still covered in mud. At least I knew I was ready for the next day…with more muddy trails to go explore.
Anyone who rides offload trails knows that they will probably always get muddy or covered in dust, depending on the time of year. It’s all part of the experience of off road riding. It’s also part of the desire to get away from the clinical life so many of us lead these days.
So I say, what the hell…let’s get dirty…everyday and never shy away from it either.