One of the rare perks of being a motorcyclist, at least if you're out of the closet (so to speak) is the opportunity to play the crazy card.
This only works when you're equipped with one or more of the signifiers, and the more the merrier. Helmet is the minimum requirement, but boots, leathers and nasty-looking gloves are a bonus.
Here's the basic thing to playing the crazy card: People just assume you're crazy if you ride a motorcycle, or even better, dangerous crazy. So why try to disabuse them of the notion? Why not just run with it?
The crazy card works great when you're walking down the street, minding your own business, leather jacket on and helmet in hand. You come to the crosswalk with a "walk" sign, and sixteen snarling cabdrivers with the air conditioning off are competing to run down the pair of blind nuns who are crossing the street in front of you.
What do you do in a situation like this? You play the crazy card:
You walk between the cabs and the nuns. You stop dead in your tracks. You slowly turn your head and make unflinching eye contact with any one of the cab drivers. He briefly considers his options, thinks what that helmet could do to his hack. He then drops at your feet, rolls over and shows you his soft white underbelly, asserting your psychotic alpha-ness. You smile sweetly at the nuns, wish them a good day, and go on your merry way.
Note: This also works pretty well on clumps of power-suited-cellphone-obsessed-starbucks-bound-yuppie-dotcommers walking down the sidewalk. They will part like the waters of the Red Sea before Moses with just one icy flash of the crazy card.
The nice part is it never gets old. It's alway fun, never fails to work, and people know there's an unending supply of crazy in the world—so why would they doubt you?