Forget 'Born to Be Wild.' All those overaged 'Easy Rider' types need to put the mufflers back on their bikes.
Summer is ending, and not a moment too soon.
In my seaside Long Beach neighborhood, the warm months used to be a time when residents threw open windows to let in the sound of surf and the fragrance of suntan lotion from the roller-bladers on the bike path. But open windows are no longer an option.
Summer has become the season of the cacophonous roar, a time when phalanxes of motorcycles head for the beach cities, piloted by black-helmeted, big-bellied men who think "Easy Rider" was about them. During the week, they may be accountants or car dealers. On the weekend, they are Captain America and Billy, setting out on their own private spiritual -- and noisy -- journeys.
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Cheers,
Speed