In 1973, while riding my Triumph 650, I stopped for Keith (Bandit) Ball and his buddy, flying colors, just a few miles after they’d successfully scared the crap outta me, by passing me on both sides.
(southbound I-5)
They appreciated the help, but told me directly, NEVER STOP for bikers flying colors!
Keith was co-editor for Easyrider mag. at the time.
Really?
We still have lots of them “looking out for us” because of a kindness shown to one particular stranded rider back in the mid-90s.
That biker has since passed away but his brothers *still* watch over us like dark angels.
Prior to that, one rainy, cold night, I stopped and gave my cell to a clubber who’d broken down so he could call for a trailer.
That was back in the days when everybody and his dog did ~not~ automatically have a cell phone.
Maybe it depends on the club or it’s different because we’re sort of locally ‘famous’ because of the trike kit business.
We know quite a few of them personally and they know who we are, just in general.
Nonetheless, here, we all stop for each other, regardless.
:)