When I was a little girl growing up in Hespeler, Ont., my dad owned one of the gas stations in town. Dad was a friendly guy who welcomed everybody to his shop and his kitchen table. We had a wide variety of friends stop by to have a coffee with Dad, who loved a good visit and a good story.
Many of these visitors drove motorcycles and belonged to various clubs, but that was never the highlight of their visit… (who they ran with).
I grew up around bikers; I am friends with many. I often say I grew up bouncing on the knees of bikers; that’s how long I’ve had good and happy interactions with them.
One of my best friends, who sadly left this world too soon, was someone I considered a guardian angel, always looking out for me and always straight-up honest; I trusted him (and many others) with my life.
It’s not these guys who hurt me; they love and respect me to this day. I’m not saying there aren’t any of those things with other clubs; I wouldn’t know; I only know what I do about the people I’ve met.
When I started writing for the Wingham Advance Times, one of my first assignments was to go to a garage sale fundraiser held by the Wingham Independent Motorcycle Club (MC), raising funds for the local schools, specifically for the breakfast clubs.
I’ve gotten to know many of these guys personally; they are hard-working men with wives, kids and grandbabies. They enjoy riding their Harleys and the camaraderie of a tight-knit club.
These guys aren’t criminals. They are not drug lords or involved in organized crime. They enjoy a good game of pool on rainy days when they can’t go riding and having a few pints with the boys, but they love to ride and help others.
No different than going to the Legion or any of the many other service clubs in town (well, maybe minus the expensive motorcycles).
They hold fundraising events all year long, and then they go to various regional schools to distribute these funds and help feed children.
This past Friday was a beautiful sunny day, and several members chose to ride their bikes for the prearranged trip to four local schools, where they were dropping off the proceeds of their efforts.
Once again, I had been invited to capture the moments on camera for the Wingham Advance Times. So I was thrilled, along with the kids lined up at the front of the school, by the heart-stopping roar of several Harleys pulling into the parking lot.
Pulling up the rear was an OPP car. I was surprised to see it. (Usually, the organizers would tell me something like that was happening).
The officer slowly exited his vehicle and approached the group, scratching his head and telling them they had grabbed his attention as they headed toward the school.
At this point, I realized he wasn’t part of the procession; he was actually following them, suspicious of what they were doing.
After a brief discussion and declining an offer to be in the photo, the officer returned to his car and left. No harm, no foul. But thoughts ran around like bullets inside my head as to how quickly that could have escalated into something else.
Not in my entire life of being around bikers, I have never witnessed any of them, outlaws or fun-loving guys, harm a child, let alone storm a public school with bad intentions, especially in small towns like Wingham.
I’m not opposed to the police; don’t get me wrong, it just reminded me that stereotyping any group of people is a very slippery slope to go down by anybody, especially law enforcement.
So many things could have gone wrong; the scenarios are endless when it comes to being discriminated against, whether it be for the colour of your skin or the clothing on your back.
The beloved school bus driver, respected by those who entrust their children’s lives to him every day, suddenly is a target because he puts on a vest and rides his Harley-Davidson motorcycle.
The honoured war veteran who marched in brotherhood with all in attendance on Remembrance Day, including police officers, was now eyed suspiciously because of the vest sporting the club’s “colours,” (clearly identifying him as belonging to an independent club).
What I’m saying here is, please don’t judge a book by its cover. Not everything in real life is based on a Hollywood director’s creation to thrill you. Sometimes, it really is just a bunch of good old boys taking a ride on their toys, or rather their investment. These bikes are not cheap.
Nine times out of ten, if you see a large group of bikers driving somewhere, they are raising money or awareness of something or someone special to their club.
The next time you see one of the Wingham Independent MCs, walk up to that man, shake his hand and thank him. These guys are part of your everyday community; they live, love and laugh here.
The members of Wingham Independent MC all take time away from their own families to make sure no child goes hungry. This group of incredible men (and their families) deserve respect for the incredible things they do for their community.
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Cory Bilyea is a Local Journalism Initiative Reporter currently working for Midwestern Newspapers. She can be reached by email at cbilyea@midwesternnewspapers.com.
