In my pre-trucking days, it’s unlikely I would have crossed paths with Benny. Heading north with produce from California’s Salinas Valley, my comm screen displayed a directive to convey a fellow driver to our carrier’s main terminal in the Northwest.

Of Asian descent, Benny was a formidable figure. What he lacked in stature, he more than made up for in self-confidence and presence. His tattoos and seasoned leather jacket were not borne out of affectation.

Having recently read Hell’s Angels, Hunter S. Thompson’s portrayal of motorcycle culture against the California zeitgeist of the 1960s, I took a keen interest in Benny’s linkage to the region’s present-day biker community. An uncle had apparently been a card-carrying member of the Angels.

“Did you,” I asked, “ever consider joining?”

“Well, yes,” he replied. “But . . . it’s a commitment.”

That’s all he needed to say.

Benny wasn’t familiar with the Thompson book, so I gave him my copy, realizing our paths might not cross again. By some twist of fate, he showed up at the Ellensburg Fred Meyer docks a few months later, where I was unloading. As he returned the book, he said Thompson’s embedded reporting mirrored stories handed down to him.

My family moved from Minneapolis to the Bay Area in 1966 and settled into an insular life in Castro Valley, south of Oakland. On occasion, as we traversed area freeways in our Buick Skylark, a tight formation of Angels blazed by in all their glory.

The hair!

The sleeveless denim jackets flapping in the wind!

The modified, stripped-down hogs roaring in unison!

The “bad boy” thing!

Heady stuff for a nerdy stamp collector from Minnesota. Maybe the guys wearing coats and ties in adjacent Chevys and Dodges had similar feelings.

Using outward accouterments to convey a sense of self seems to be part of the human condition. Advertisers fuel our consumer culture by offering a multitude of props for projecting bravado, sex appeal, sophistication, and privilege. I think it’s safe to assert that posers outnumber masters.

Not to put down creative self-expression. Cars, clothes, hobbies, and athletic and artistic pursuits help to convey who we are and connect us to others in ways that make life interesting and fun. But if the prop is all there is, people can become pathetic caricatures.

This extends into politics, often aided and abetted by leaders who are prone to dumbing down public discourse to divisive slogans that will fit on a hat or a T-shirt. That seems to be all it takes to create a following these days.

Maybe we need to revolt and demand more. Perhaps we could jumpstart the process by dropping protective facades, listening to one another, and having the courage to be vulnerable. By making a concerted effort to embrace commonalities rather than differences. By being real!

Worthy aspirations, don’t you think?

Motor Easy!