In 1885, when the first motorcycle was ratcheted together, you can be sure there weren't any concerns about liability or collision insurance. There were no mandatory helmet laws, no learner's permits, no special licenses. There were certainly no motorcycle injury lawyers or legal statutes to worry about. At that time, motorcycles were little more than motorized bicycles, capable of speeds of 10 mph, tops. In fact, the first motorcycle ever produced, by Daimler-Maybach, didn't even have a proper set of handlebars to steer with.

The largest producer of motorcycles before World War I, was Indian, out of Springfield, Massachusetts. Nothing compared to an Indian and their Scout and Chief models were extremely popular. During World War I, and for decades afterward, the distinction of being the most popular motorcycle went to their only major rival, Harley-Davidson, based out of Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

War drives demand, and it certainly drove the demand for Harley-Davidson motorcycles. By 1920, it was the single largest manufacturer of motorcycles worldwide. Initially used as scouting and messenger vehicles, Harleys were quickly adopted by law enforcement agencies and civilians alike. Civilian racing clubs began to spread among enthusiasts and certainly during and after World War II, these became very attractive to ex-servicemen.

The motorcycle club transformed into our modern-day gang after World War II, evolving (if that is the right word) into a more and more violent entity. By the Sixties, the Hells Angels, Outlaws, and Pagans took hold of our collective imagination, thanks in no small part to the dozens of biker exploitation movies and Hunter S. Thompson's seminal novel, Hell's Angels: The Strange and Terrible Saga of the Outlaw Motorcycle Gangs.

It should be made clear that motorcycling is now relatively free of an overt gang stigma. This is a testament to the millions of worldwide enthusiasts who enjoy their weekend rides to points far and wide. Indeed, you would be hard-pressed to actually witness a gang ride, unless you happen to be en route to Sturgis, South Dakota -- and even then, most are on their best behavior.

If you find yourself having to put your hog or rice burner down, the very first thing you should do is contact a reputable motorcycle injury lawyer. Everything else can wait.

You can't disparage the symbolism of a motorcycle in modern America. I'm not posturing like a thick-necked biker trying to justify some right-wing agenda here. I'm apolitical. I also happen to be a life-long biker. No, I'm not a Harley hard-rider or a Tokyo street-burner -- I took my cue from Mr. McQueen long, long ago. For more than ten years, I have been a Triumph trendsetter, splitting lanes on my Scrambler, my Flying Ace scarf flapping in the wind like Snoopy.

Before you get into an uproar, it's legal to split lanes in California. With one hand the Golden State's legislature giveth, with the other it taketh away. Yes, we can split lanes six ways to Sunday, but we have to wear helmets as we do it. While I'm not an anti-helmet aficionado, the less we're regulated, the better.

To understand the marginal standing of a Triumph rider, you have to understand that modern biking is split into two major camps -- the Harley boys and the Japanese crotch-rocketeers -- with a third, hodgepodge group encompassing everyone else. So, yes, I'm in the "everyone else" group, which means I share space with other Triumph riders, as well as Ducati, Indian, and Confederate riders.

There are advantages to floating about in the third class of riders. For one thing, Harley and Japanese bike riders tend to appreciate marginalized bikes. My Scrambler always turns heads, and not because I'm spewing decibels of sound pollution or popping wheelies on the freeway. The craftsmanship of the bike always make friends in both camps.

Another perk to being in the third class is the fact I don't have to keep a Los Angeles motorcycle accident attorney on speed dial. I haven't had to put my horse down, nor have I had to deal with a nasty case of road rash. Being superstitious, I attribute this my red, flapping scarf. Friends say this has to do with how carefully I drive. I say I'm never goaded into race wars or having to be flashy, so I keep two wheels on the pavement, and my eyes on the prize.

Look, no two bikers are ever the same. Just because I don't have a Los Angeles motorcycle accident attorney on speed dial doesn't mean you shouldn't. Think for yourself and be safe.

I've been riding a motorcycle for close to twenty years. In biking terms, that's almost an eternity. No, I didn't start as a Sunday biker trying to get back to some kind of freedom for as long as the Sabbath is long. No, I didn't start as some urban professional looking for kicks and adventure to counter-balance my dull life of corporate returns. I admit my life is a big snore - but my riding started as pure necessity and has remained an expression of need and efficiency.

When college grads move to Los Angeles -- especially if they've just graduated from a state school in Lubbock, Texas -- they don't have many options. I took the only job I was offered and buckled down on my expenses as much as possible so I didn't have to shack-up with friends or family. I was able to keep my costs low by using a motorcycle as my primary means of transportation.

No, it wasn't always easy. It's no fun biking into work when it's 40 degree outside or when it's pouring rain on the 405 freeway. But I did it. And I like to think I did it with a touch of flare and hint of panache. After all, this is LA we're talking about -- flare and panache can go a long, long way.

So, when I saddle my Triumph Scrambler, and wrap my Snoopy flying ace scarf around my neck, I'm ready to bring all the facets of my life together for as long as it takes to make it across this capital city. Yeah, I turn heads, and yes, I may come across as an aging hipster on a very hip bike, but, by George, I've been doing this, on this same bike long before it ever became hip or trendy.

While I've never had reason to call a motorcycle injury attorney, I've seen plenty of friends and rivals have to make the ride home by way of the nearest emergency room. When you're on a bike you never know when the road will decide to take its literal pound of flesh. You just pray when it does, there isn't a car behind you or a semi barreling towards you.

If you've had to put your bike down, or if you've had to swallow asphalt and spit out teeth, you need to make sure you've got a decent motorcycle injury lawyer on retainer to sort out the legal ramifications.