OK, so as a young man you were experiencing jealousy and embarrassment when you looked around at others, which is pretty common at that age. We mature gradually. But it's important that we don't generalize our feelings to others around us.Fine, you're not included in my sociological take.
In 1979 I was stationed in San Diego. This was Hell's Angels territory at a time when they were very visible. I had a 1976 Honda CB550, and a small handful of my shipmates also had bikes. We endured constant crap from the one guy on the ship who had a Sportster, and we were all jealous of him, but a Sportster was too expensive, plus they needed constant fixing. I used to go on open rally rides on weekends, they were eclectic, everyone from 1%ers to me on my Hondo, and yeah, it was embarrassing. I had a non-Navy friend with a Triumph, still not a Harley, but at least it wasn't Jap. He got way more respect.
In the mid 70's I read the original gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson's true story of hanging out with the Hell's Angels for many months. He revealed them to be a bunch of clowns. Violent clowns that is. This was formative of my sense of who Harley owners might be, and it wasn't "real men".
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