Mirror Image
Here’s a confession. Motorized machines don’t really interest me. When men huddle together to talk about cars at parties, I’m lost. I watch Top Gear and can distinguish correctly the front end of a car from the back at least nine times out of ten, but that’s as far as it goes.*
Motorcycles leave me even colder. This is good news, as it means my mid-life crisis is unlikely to morph into a desire to dress up like a Rolling Stones roadie and straddle a chrome-encrusted noise factory so low slung that my rear end is barely four inches off the tarmac.
Not all men are so lucky. Earlier this year a crowd of bike enthusiasts gathered outside the Brehon hotel in Killarney for some kind of bikefest. Regrettably, it coincided with the reception of the wedding I was photographing. My eyes are still hurting at the sight of so much middle-aged blubber oozing out from under tight T-shirts and over the waists of even tighter leather slacks. And everyone walking about as if they’d scalp you if you glanced at them the wrong way. That’s a hard look to pull off when you are so clearly a purchasing clerk, or an accountant, or an insurance broker, or whatever office-imprisoned dullard in real life. Do honest-to-God warriors of the road really have Gold Member credit cards and rooms in four-star hotels?
As for the noise – it was like being punched in the ear. What is the point of riding something so loud it makes the flower girls cry?
The only redeeming feature of the bikes parked outside the hotel (if you discount the release of dopamine and adrenalin from laughing so much at the sight of a ‘Goldwing’, surely the most comedic bicycle ever built) was the fact that the occasional mirror allowed me to produce an interesting take on the wedding reception.**

This photograph was harder to take than it looks as I had to contort my body to get the right angle. In the end, I had to crop a little of the mirror (and myself) out of the frame. (c) Roger Overall 2011
*That said, I did enjoy touring the surrounds of Arles in July in a classic Porsche 911. Though this was likely more to do with the friendly and engaging company, the endless talk about photography, and the availability of good food and wine at the end of each ride than with the car itself.
**Don’t even think about suggesting what a great photograph it would have made to get the bride and groom to go on a bike.










