I am sitting waiting for a neck x-ray wearing my customary shorts looking at my tan lines.
My daughter has a perfect tan. She works at it. She goes to the beach at every opportunity and, she buys minimalist clothing for the occasion. No tan lines. She can wear whatever she likes without fear of a tan line showing.
I, on the other hand, am a cyclist. The only time I am in the sun is on my bike wearing bibs and jersey. I am tanned on my face, hands, forearms and on the legs from just above the knees to the ankles. And, I am dark. The mark of many hours on the saddle. However, the rest of my body is white. Really white. You don’t want to see me in a bathing suit.
A bikers tan is a badge of honour. A right of passage. Something you must have if you want to be taken seriously on the road.