“Listen, friends, comrades, brothers in arms, the one percenters too weird to fit into cultured society, who must take to the open roads, with wind blowing through unkempt hair, shaking all notions of Earthly law and order out like so many bugs trapped in the manic mane. I say to you, I am ONE! Allow me to join, and I shall prove to you, that it is OKAY to talk to strangers, and also, hopefully, pay off my soul-crushing student loans”. You raise your hands in the air triumphantly as you finish your soul rousing speech. You look deeply into the eyes of the savage bikers before you, confident you’ve penetrated their beady little eyes and road worn souls.
The oldest one slaps his kick stand down and dismounts his bicycle. Walking towards you. “My daddy said solving your problems with words is for pussies.” He shoves you, surprisingly strong for one of his stature, as you stumble and fall into a mud puddle. The gang roars with approving laughter, the temperature in your brain begins to rise. THESE LITTLE FUCKERS!