Tits, Tyres and TikTok: Has Motorcycling Lost the Bloody Plot?
Social media has given motorcycling an extraordinary platform, but somewhere between the glamour shots, influencer deals and endless pursuit of engagement, have we forgotten what makes riding motorcycles so bloody special?
I'm going to upset quite a few people with this article, and I suspect some will have made their minds up about me before they've even finished the first paragraph. I'll probably be accused of sexism, jealousy, being hopelessly old-fashioned or simply being another middle-aged bloke who doesn't understand how social media works. There may be some truth in at least a couple of those accusations, but there's something that's been increasingly bothering me about the direction motorcycling is heading, and I think it's worth having a proper conversation about it.
I'm absolutely sick to death of the over-sexualisation of motorcycling, particularly across social media, where an increasingly large proportion of the content being pushed towards me seems to have very little to do with motorcycles and an awful lot to do with the physical appearance of the people sitting on them.
Before anyone starts sharpening their pitchforks, I'm a heterosexual man who finds women attractive, and there's something undeniably sexy about a woman who rides a motorcycle. I'm not going to pretend otherwise, and I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with celebrating someone's appearance. Women can be glamorous, confident, sexually attractive and exceptionally talented motorcyclists all at the same time. Those qualities are not mutually exclusive, and nor should they be. But I do think we've reached a rather peculiar point where the motorcycle itself has become little more than a convenient accessory in a growing amount of supposedly motorcycle-related content.
Spend half an hour scrolling through Instagram, Facebook or TikTok and you'll probably understand what I'm talking about. There are women posing across fuel tanks, squeezing into skin-tight riding gear, deliberately unzipping protective clothing and arranging themselves into increasingly suggestive positions around motorcycles. Some are undoubtedly excellent riders, some are relatively inexperienced, and some might barely ride at all. That isn't necessarily the point, because what they're selling isn't always the motorcycle or the experience of riding one. It's themselves, their appearance and the attention that generates.
And judging by the extraordinary engagement some of this content receives, it's a remarkably successful business model.
Now, I want to make something absolutely clear because it's central to my argument. I don't particularly blame the women creating this content. They're doing what people have done in advertising, entertainment and popular culture for generations: recognising what attracts attention and using it to their advantage. Many have clearly worked out how to build enormous audiences, establish commercially valuable personal brands and potentially earn a very comfortable living in the process. If somebody has the confidence, looks, personality and commercial awareness to make that work, good luck to them. Why on earth wouldn't they?
Nor am I suggesting that only men appreciate attractive women, or that every follower is motivated by sexual attraction. Women admire other women, audiences have different interests and motivations, and plenty of people enjoy glamour and lifestyle content without having any particular sexual interest in the person producing it. Human attraction is considerably more complicated than the stereotypical bloke drooling over a woman in tight leathers.
Nevertheless, when a motorcycle video generates thousands of comments overwhelmingly discussing the woman's backside rather than the motorcycle she's riding, I think it's reasonable to question what we're actually celebrating and whether this is the image we want motorcycling to project.
When being a brilliant rider apparently isn't enough
What finally pushed me towards writing this was a motocross video I watched earlier today. It featured a young woman who was clearly a very accomplished rider, demonstrating the sort of bike control and confidence that most of us could only dream of possessing. She was attacking a motocross track with considerable ability, and the riding footage alone would have been more than enough to make me stop scrolling and watch.
Unfortunately, that wasn't how the video began. Instead, we were treated to an extended sequence of her getting dressed, with the camera carefully positioned to emphasise her figure as she pulled tight motocross clothing over a thong. There were shots of her midriff, her silhouette and her backside before she eventually climbed aboard the motorcycle. The whole thing felt more like the introduction to a glamour shoot than a demonstration of somebody's considerable riding talent.
When the actual motocross footage finally arrived, it was excellent, which made the preceding sequence seem even more unnecessary. Here was a woman with genuine ability, somebody who could potentially inspire thousands of people to take up off-road riding, yet the presentation seemed determined to establish how sexually attractive she was before allowing her talent to do the talking.
There was another aspect that concerned me even more. She appeared to be riding with long blonde hair flowing freely behind her, seemingly without much consideration for the potential consequences of it becoming caught in a moving component. Anyone who understands machinery knows that loose hair and rotating parts can be a particularly dangerous combination, with the potential for horrific injuries. I don't know the circumstances of the filming, what precautions may have been taken or whether the session was staged specifically for social media, so I'm not going to make accusations about the individual. But I do question the wisdom of presenting that image to an audience that may include inexperienced or aspiring riders.
This matters to me for reasons that extend well beyond my own irritation with social media. I have a five-year-old daughter, and I would absolutely love it if she developed an interest in motorcycles as she grows up. I'd love to teach her to ride, watch her gain confidence, get covered in mud and discover the enormous satisfaction that comes from mastering something challenging. If she wanted to race, become a mechanic, travel the world on two wheels or simply enjoy the occasional Sunday ride, I'd support her wholeheartedly.
What I don't particularly want is for her to grow up believing that her ability on a motorcycle will only be celebrated if she's also prepared to turn herself into an object of sexual attention. I want her to understand that confidence, femininity and attractiveness are things she can express however she chooses, but that none of them should be prerequisites for having her achievements recognised.
Motorcycling already has some extraordinary female role models. Jenny Tinmouth broke new ground competing in the British Superbike Championship, while Maria Costello has spent years demonstrating extraordinary determination and ability in motorcycle racing. Beyond those familiar names are countless women competing in motocross, enduro, road racing and circuit racing, along with female mechanics, engineers, instructors, journalists and adventurers whose knowledge and experience deserve far greater recognition than they often receive.
These are women who have dedicated enormous amounts of time and effort to developing their skills, often in environments where they have historically had to work considerably harder to be taken seriously. I find that far more impressive than somebody's ability to pose attractively beside a superbike, although, of course, there's absolutely no reason why the same person couldn't do both.
The question is whether we're giving those achievements the attention they deserve, or whether the increasingly superficial nature of social media is encouraging people to prioritise appearance over ability.
The manufacturers are helping to create this problem
My frustration isn't based entirely on what I see while scrolling through my phone. Having spent years working in the motorcycle industry, I've also witnessed the commercial side of influencer marketing, and one particular experience has stayed with me.
I was once asked to supply a motorcycle to a female influencer who had built a substantial social media following. I'm deliberately not going to identify her because this isn't intended as a personal attack, and I have no desire to publicly embarrass somebody who was simply taking advantage of an opportunity presented to her. However, the experience provided a fascinating insight into the increasingly blurred relationship between motorcycle marketing, social media popularity and genuine product knowledge.
From my interactions with her, she appeared to have relatively limited motorcycle knowledge and not a great deal of riding experience. There's nothing inherently wrong with that, of course. Everybody starts somewhere, and an inexperienced rider can offer a perfectly valid perspective on a motorcycle, particularly if the intended audience consists of people who are similarly new to riding. In fact, a well-produced beginner's review can sometimes be more relevant to a prospective customer than the opinion of a former racer who has spent decades riding the latest high-performance machinery.
Unfortunately, that wasn't what I saw. The resulting review was fairly average, with limited meaningful riding footage, rather basic production and editing, and much of the presentation consisting of the influencer standing behind the motorcycle reciting information that appeared to have come straight from the manufacturer's specification sheet. There was little meaningful discussion about how the bike actually performed, what it felt like to ride, how it compared with competing models or what sort of customer might enjoy owning one.
What there was, however, was an extraordinary amount of accompanying photography featuring the influencer in tight, revealing clothing, wearing full makeup and posing in various positions around the motorcycle. The photographs were clearly successful in attracting attention, because the resulting engagement was enormous.
Thousands of likes and comments followed, and from my own observations I'd estimate that upwards of 85% of the comments I saw were from men complimenting her appearance or making suggestive remarks. Very few appeared to be discussing the motorcycle, its specifications, its performance or anything else that might suggest a genuine interest in the product being promoted.
I remember looking at the response and wondering what the manufacturer had actually achieved. On paper, the campaign probably looked fantastic, with impressive reach and engagement figures that could be presented to a marketing department as evidence of a successful collaboration. Yet the overwhelming impression I took away was that the audience was far more interested in the person presenting the motorcycle than in the motorcycle itself.
Now, before anyone accuses me of failing to understand the basics of marketing, I appreciate that brand awareness has value. Not every campaign is designed to generate an immediate sale, and exposing a product to people who might not otherwise encounter it can be a perfectly legitimate objective. Lifestyle marketing has existed for decades, and motorcycles have always been sold partly through aspiration, image and emotion. There's also no reason why a creator needs to be a technically accomplished reviewer to produce worthwhile promotional content.
But surely manufacturers should be asking more searching questions about the quality of the attention they're buying. A thousand comments telling somebody how beautiful she looks might be wonderful for the influencer's personal brand, but they don't necessarily tell us anything about whether those people remember the motorcycle, understand its appeal or have developed any meaningful interest in buying one.
There's an enormous difference between attracting attention and influencing purchasing behaviour, and I worry that the industry's obsession with follower counts and engagement statistics is sometimes causing that distinction to be overlooked.
Influencer marketing can also be comparatively inexpensive when measured against traditional advertising and professional media production, particularly where collaborations involve motorcycle loans, access or relatively modest fees. I can understand why manufacturers find that appealing, and I'm certainly not suggesting that every creator with a large following is undeserving of the opportunities they receive. There are some outstanding male and female influencers producing genuinely entertaining, informative and commercially valuable motorcycle content.
Nevertheless, if a manufacturer claims to be encouraging more women into motorcycling, I think it's reasonable to question whether repeatedly promoting glamour-led content to an audience primarily interested in the creator's appearance is necessarily the best way of achieving that objective.
Wouldn't there be considerable value in putting motorcycles into the hands of talented female riders, experienced instructors, knowledgeable mechanics or enthusiastic newcomers who could demonstrate the genuine enjoyment and accessibility of motorcycling? Imagine the impact of content that encourages a young woman to think not simply that she would look fantastic on a motorcycle, but that she could actually learn to ride one, maintain one, race one or travel the world on one.
And I can't help wondering whether an influencer producing exactly the same quality of motorcycle review, but without the physical appearance and accompanying glamour photographs, would have been offered the same opportunity in the first place.
That's not a criticism of the woman involved. It's a question for the people making the marketing decisions.
The algorithms aren't broken. They're doing exactly what we tell them to do.
It's tempting to blame social media algorithms for all of this, and I certainly think the way platforms prioritise engagement has contributed enormously to the problem. However, suggesting that the algorithms are somehow malfunctioning rather misses the point. They're generally designed to identify content that attracts attention and keeps people using the platform, and in that respect they're doing precisely what they're supposed to do.
The uncomfortable truth is that we're providing the signals that encourage this content to spread. Every time somebody stops scrolling to admire an attractive influencer, watches the video repeatedly, leaves a suggestive comment or shares the post with their mates, they're helping demonstrate that this particular type of content generates engagement.
And men, I think we need to accept that we're a substantial part of this particular problem.
I've seen comments sections beneath motorcycle posts that resemble a gathering of sexually frustrated teenagers rather than a community of adults discussing a shared interest. Some of the remarks are embarrassing, others are downright unpleasant, and remarkably few have anything to do with the motorcycle supposedly being featured.
Of course, not every man behaves this way, and the issue isn't exclusive to male audiences or female creators. There are plenty of men producing equally superficial motorcycle content, often relying on dangerous riding, ridiculous speeds or deliberately provocative behaviour to attract attention. Recklessness can be just as commercially rewarding as sex appeal, and I have equally little enthusiasm for content that encourages inexperienced riders to behave like complete idiots on public roads.
But in the context of female motorcycle influencers, the sheer volume of attention directed towards physical appearance creates an obvious commercial incentive. If a creator discovers that a suggestive photograph generates ten times the engagement of a technically informative riding video, it doesn't take a marketing genius to work out which approach they're likely to pursue.
The audience rewards it, the platform amplifies it, the influencer benefits from it and the manufacturer sees impressive numbers. Everybody appears to win, except perhaps the people hoping to find genuinely useful motorcycle content among the increasingly endless stream of glamour photographs.
And that brings us to an uncomfortable question about what social media popularity actually represents. Having a million followers doesn't automatically make somebody knowledgeable, trustworthy or particularly influential when it comes to purchasing decisions. Equally, having a relatively small audience doesn't mean somebody lacks expertise or has nothing worthwhile to contribute.
Yet in an industry where marketing budgets are increasingly influenced by social media statistics, those distinctions can become rather difficult to recognise.
Yes, I'm jealous of the numbers. Wouldn't you be?
I can already imagine the reaction from some readers, particularly those who have never encountered my work before. They'll suggest that I'm simply bitter because I don't have an enormous following, that I'm frustrated because attractive women are more successful on social media than I am, or that nobody wants to watch my motorcycle reviews because they're not particularly interesting.
And do you know what? There may be an element of truth in some of that.
Of course I'd like a bigger audience. I'd be lying through my teeth if I claimed otherwise. I spend a considerable amount of time researching motorcycles, filming reviews, editing videos, writing articles and trying to produce content that people will find entertaining or informative. It's frustrating when something you've put genuine effort into struggles to attract attention, particularly when you see comparatively simple content achieving extraordinary numbers.
I'm also trying to develop Get Ben Riding into something that manufacturers and motorcycle enthusiasts recognise as a credible source of information and entertainment, so naturally I care about growing its audience. I'm not going to pretend that commercial success and recognition are somehow beneath me, because they aren't.
But there's a fundamental difference between wanting more people to watch your content and being prepared to do absolutely anything to attract those people.
I want viewers who are genuinely interested in motorcycles, whether they're experienced riders considering their next purchase, complete beginners trying to understand where to start or simply enthusiasts who enjoy hearing somebody else's perspective on a machine they love.
I'm not claiming to be the greatest motorcycle journalist in the world, nor am I pretending that my opinions are somehow more valuable than everybody else's. I've spent a large part of my life around motorcycles, including racing them, selling them and working within the industry, but that doesn't mean I'm always right. Far from it. I've ridden motorcycles that other people absolutely adore and wondered what on earth all the fuss was about, just as I've fallen in love with machines that other reviewers have dismissed as thoroughly average.
That's the beauty of motorcycling. So much of what we experience is subjective, influenced by our backgrounds, abilities, preferences and expectations. A good motorcycle review should offer an informed perspective, not pretend to deliver some universally correct verdict.
And there are countless other creators, both male and female, doing exactly the same thing, often with audiences considerably smaller than those enjoyed by the biggest social media personalities. They're spending their weekends filming, reviewing, repairing, exploring and sharing their enthusiasm because they genuinely love motorcycles.
Some are far more knowledgeable than I am, others are better riders, and plenty are considerably more entertaining. We all have something different to contribute, and I think it's important that we remain humble enough to recognise that our voices are only a tiny part of a much larger conversation.
My concern isn't that these people deserve popularity more than somebody else. Nobody has an automatic right to an audience, and viewers are perfectly entitled to watch whatever they enjoy. My concern is that the way attention is increasingly distributed risks creating a rather distorted picture of what motorcycling is actually about.
Motorcycling was never supposed to be a beauty contest.
One of the things I've always loved about motorcycles is the extraordinary sense of freedom they provide. When you pull on your helmet, start the engine and disappear down the road, the everyday world seems to become considerably less important. Nobody needs to know what you do for a living, how much money you earn, what you look like or how many followers you have on Instagram. For a little while, you're simply another person enjoying the experience of riding.
There's something wonderfully anonymous about that, and it's one of the reasons I think motorcycling can be such a positive influence on people's lives. The combination of concentration, mechanical connection, physical sensation and exploration offers an escape that's difficult to replicate elsewhere. Whether you're attacking a favourite stretch of road, exploring unfamiliar countryside or simply enjoying a gentle ride on a Sunday afternoon, the experience itself is what matters.
It's why I've loved motorcycles for so many years, and it's why I'm so passionate about encouraging other people to discover them.
Motorcycling needs new riders, particularly at a time when the industry faces challenges around affordability, accessibility and attracting younger generations. It needs women, men, people from different backgrounds and people with different ideas about what riding should involve. The more welcoming and diverse our community becomes, the better its chances of thriving in the future.
And that's why I think the image we're projecting matters.
If somebody's first exposure to motorcycling is an endless stream of sexualised content, dangerous stunts and carefully manufactured social media personalities, are we really showing them the extraordinary breadth of experiences the hobby has to offer? Are we encouraging them to discover motorcycles, or merely encouraging them to admire the people using motorcycles to attract attention?
I appreciate that glamour and image have always been part of motorcycle culture. Manufacturers have used attractive models to promote motorcycles for decades, and the industry hasn't exactly been innocent when it comes to treating women as decorative accessories. In fact, you could reasonably argue that social media has simply given individual women the opportunity to profit directly from an approach that advertising agencies and motorcycle brands have exploited for generations.
That's a perfectly fair observation, and perhaps one of the more interesting aspects of the entire debate. The women building successful businesses around their appearance may not be the ones who created this culture at all. They may simply have become particularly good at navigating it.
But just because something has always happened doesn't mean we shouldn't question whether it's helping motorcycling move in the direction we'd like it to go.
So what should actually change?
I'm certainly not proposing that women should stop posting glamorous photographs, cover themselves up or seek approval from middle-aged men before deciding what they wear on a motorcycle. Women should be free to express themselves however they choose, and somebody's appearance should never be used as an excuse to dismiss their abilities or question whether they belong in motorcycling.
Nor do I think the answer lies in policing social media or demanding that every motorcycle influencer becomes a technical expert. Entertainment, lifestyle and personality-driven content all have legitimate places within the industry, and it's entirely possible that some of the creators I've criticised are introducing new audiences to motorcycles in ways that traditional media has struggled to achieve.
But I do think manufacturers could be more thoughtful about the creators they choose to support and the objectives they're trying to achieve. If the intention is simply to generate brand awareness, then fine, judge the campaign accordingly. If the objective is to educate prospective customers, build product credibility or encourage new people into motorcycling, perhaps follower counts and engagement statistics shouldn't be the only measures of success.
I'd love to see more opportunities given to knowledgeable female riders, mechanics, instructors, racers and journalists, not because they deserve preferential treatment, but because their experience and enthusiasm can offer something genuinely valuable to the people watching.
I'd also like to see more recognition for smaller creators who produce thoughtful, useful content without necessarily attracting enormous audiences. That doesn't mean manufacturers should abandon commercial reality or start handing out motorcycles to anybody with a camera, but perhaps there is room for a more balanced approach that recognises quality, credibility and relevance alongside raw audience numbers.
And as viewers, perhaps we could become a little more conscious of what we're choosing to reward. If we want informative reviews, skilled riding, responsible advice and inspiring stories to reach larger audiences, then we have to engage with those things rather than constantly feeding the content that frustrates us.
I'm not naive enough to think any of this will suddenly transform social media, and I certainly don't expect people to stop appreciating attractive individuals simply because I've written a grumpy article about it. But I do think it's worth recognising that the culture we complain about is, to a considerable extent, the culture we're helping to create.
What I want my daughter to see
Ultimately, I keep coming back to my daughter and the sort of motorcycling community I hope she'll encounter if she decides to follow in my footsteps.
I want her to grow up seeing women who are confident, capable and passionate about what they do. Women who can race motorcycles, repair them, review them, explore the world on them or simply enjoy riding without feeling that they have anything to prove to anybody.
I want her to understand that she can be feminine, glamorous and proud of her appearance while also being mechanically knowledgeable, physically capable, competitive and adventurous. None of those things should exclude the others, and she should never feel that she has to choose between them.
Most importantly, I don't want her to believe that her appearance determines the value of her achievements, or that attracting sexual attention is somehow a necessary part of becoming successful in a world she might grow to love.
And I'd want exactly the same opportunities and recognition for my son, based on his enthusiasm and ability rather than his appearance or popularity.
I know perfectly well that the world doesn't always work that way. Attractive people have always enjoyed certain advantages, marketing has always exploited human desire, and social media has simply made those realities more visible and commercially powerful than ever before.
But motorcycling has something rather special to offer, something that goes far beyond appearances, follower counts or the approval of strangers on the internet. It offers independence, confidence, adventure, friendship and a connection with machinery that can become a lifelong passion.
That's the motorcycling I want to celebrate, and it's the motorcycling I want future generations to discover.
Perhaps I'm being idealistic, or perhaps I've simply reached the age where everything on social media starts to irritate me. I'm certainly not claiming that my perspective is the only valid one, and I'd genuinely welcome the views of women who create motorcycle content, particularly those who have experienced the pressures and expectations I've been discussing.
Because for all my frustration, I don't think the real problem is that there are too many attractive women on motorcycles. There are plenty of talented, knowledgeable and passionate women who also happen to be attractive, and motorcycling is all the better for their involvement.
The problem, as I see it, is that we've created an environment where the appearance of the person riding can become more commercially valuable than the experience, knowledge or ability they're sharing. Manufacturers can benefit from it, influencers can make money from it, and audiences clearly enjoy consuming it, but I think it's worth asking what happens to the wider image of motorcycling when that becomes one of its most visible representations.
And if the response to all of this is that I'm simply jealous because I don't have a million followers, well, perhaps there's a little truth in that too. I'd certainly love more people to watch my videos and read my articles.
But I'd much rather have an audience of people who genuinely give a shit about motorcycles than a million followers who couldn't tell you what bike I was riding because they were too busy staring at my arse.
Although, to be fair, I suspect that particular marketing strategy would be an absolute disaster.
So have I completely lost the bloody plot, or has motorcycle social media become far too obsessed with sex appeal at the expense of substance?
I'd particularly like to hear from female riders and content creators, because I appreciate that my perspective is only one part of this conversation. Perhaps these influencers are bringing more women into motorcycling than I realise, or perhaps the industry is missing an opportunity to celebrate the extraordinary talent that already exists within it.
Either way, I think it's a conversation worth having.
Ben — Get Ben Riding
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