Caught Myself in a Bias

Bikes outside Vermont Apple Pie

I try hard to avoid preconceived notions. Bias. Unintentional prejudices. Sometimes, though, I'm caught offguard by one of my own. 

We’re eating breakfast in a sweet, delicate  little mom-and-pop restaurant called Vermont Apple Pie in the even sweeter little town of  Proctorsville, VT.  The tiny dining room is upstairs, and the only server can’t see downstairs into the waiting room. So now and then, he calls down the steps, “Anyone waiting?”

This time, a boy-voice (maybe a teen, or young 20-something) responds, “Yes. Me and my mom. And a big group of bikers, maybe six of them.”

Bikers. Oh my. This is a small dining room.

Hubby in half the dining room

So our waiter calls into the kitchen for help and a woman (his wife?) scurries out to fix up the table for six bikers. 

I watch. And wonder how six burly men and their bulky leathers will fit around this delicate country table. Especially when each end of the table has been turned into a place setting.

I just keep eating. And watching.

“OK,” the server calls down the steps. “Table for six is ready.”

I wait for the thundering  herd.

I get no thunder. No burly men. The bikers are six tiny women. The biggest thing on them is a smile.

Even in their bulky leathers, they fit nicely, with lots of room to spare. And lots of stories to tell.

They all just met, through a Vermont bike touring company called MotoVermont. Two are from Washington State. Two from California. One from New York (outside Albany) and one from Connecticut. All are enjoying this  guided motorcycle tour of New England.

The tour guide hands me her card. Just in case. One day. Well, maybe.

  

Tour guide in pink