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With all the talk about the Modesto Police Department profiling motorcyclists, I’ve been asked if I have ever been harassed or pulled over for no reason.

I have to answer no, and the reason is simple: I’m a motorcycling equivalent of a geek, and I dress like one.

The club and/or gang folks are easy to spot, it’s almost a uniform: leather vest with insignias on the back, beanie or novelty helmet, stomper boots, studded belts, sleeveless shirt to show off those biceps. The bike is an American made V-Twin cruiser, with custom touches.

Most of these riders are harmless guys who just want to look a bit like an outlaw. The insignia is likely to be of a H.O.G. chapter, which stands for Harley Owners Group. And then there are the real outlaws, who are bad  guys. They dress that way because they are anti-social and want to instill fear.

Me, I ride a BMW, which is the motorcycling equivalent of, well, a BMW. They are well-built, but tend to be eccentric looking. The cylinders stick out the sides, the headlights are kind of cockeyed, they are built for traveling rather than looking cool.

Instead of leather, I wear textile jackets with bright colors, for better visibility. No insignias, patches or ride pins, no skulls or flaming eyeballs or swastikas .

 I’m hoping to buy a bilious yellow-green jacket in the future. Low on the macho scale, but it catches the eye of inattentive drivers.

My boots have a European look to them, possibly because they were designed by Europeans. Again, it’s a form follows function thing – flat soles so a heel doesn’t hamper movement on the pegs, protective padding over the ankles, re-enforcements on the toes for shifting.

The pants are bulky, but abrasion resistant, with reflective patches on the sides and armor in the knees. No metal studs on the gloves, just protection from the pavement should I have an unfortunate encounter.

My helmet is a full-face model, which meets DOT and Snell standards. I figure I make my living with my head, and I probably should make an effort to protect it. Underneath it, I’m wearing earplugs, so conversations during rides can be awkward.

To the chagrin of my wife, none of this ensemble matches, either the bike or the other garments. In other words, geeky.

Cops, if they react to me at all, might think, “There’s a nerdy looking guy…”

So they leave me alone. Or, at least they did until a month ago, when I got caught on the wrong end of a radar gun in rural Fresno County.

Maybe I was going too fast for him to take in my outfit….