and head out on the highway. Looking for adventure or whatever comes my way…….

I rode with a motorcycle gang. For real. The Avengers. One bad ass bunch of crazies.

Well….except, the chapter we rode with turned out to be a bunch of light-weights. Shortly after my hubby and I started dating, he bought a black, covered-in-chrome Harley. Super cool. Then we met some other people with bikes and started riding with them. It was fairly innocent fun….long rides, poker runs, camping, stuff like that. And, of course, I looked sooooo good on the back of that bike when I’d see my reflection in windows. Tye-dyed shirts. Bandannas. Tight jeans. Boots.

Everything was just hunky-dory until one of the guys met an Avenger and started pushing us to join up. So, we did. I made the most awesome “Property Of” patch. See, the women were the “old ladies” and we were the property of our guys. Now, ain’t that precious?

There was not a single one of us (women) who considered ourselves property of anybody. It just looked so cute wearing those patches. Bwahahahaha

After joing the Avengers, we had mandantory meetings which were nothing but shit that we were already doing. THEN…..WE GOT AN ORDER TO MEET UP WITH SOME OTHER CHAPTERS IN A BIGGER CITY.

OMG! I was soooo excited. Real biker dudes! A real biker bar and everything.

That Saturday, I took a long time making myself look just like I thought a biker chick should look. I had spent a bazillion hours making holes in my jeans and raveling the bottoms. I had bought me a new hot pink bandana and a black Harley t-shirt. Wooowie! I was some hot shit!

We rode to Huntington which took half of the friggin’ day. It should have taken a couple of hours but the truth is….when you have a bunch of Harley’s together, there are always guaranteed break-downs.

We pulled up in front of a biker bar and I just about crapped my stylish lil’ self. It was one of the scariest places that I had ever seen. My friend, Andrea, and I said that there was NO DAMN WAY that we were going in there. And, we didn’t. We got off the bikes and scurried over to the edge of the parking lot, hoping not to be spotted by some murderous rapists.

But, then I had to pee. And, then, she had to pee. Then, I had to pee really, really bad, And, she did, too. Now what? Everyone else had disappeared into the bar and we were alone. We had already decided that entering that club alone was a for -sure rape, death, or both. We had noticed some beer bottles laying not far from us. So, we did the only logical thing we could think of. She covered me while I ducked and wove by way to the bottles and grabbed up two of them. I hurried back to our dark corner and we both hurried up and pulled down our jeans and peed in the bottles. Looking back now, I wonder WTF we were thinking? Why didn’t we just pee on the pavement? Our brains must have been paralyzed with fear. We threw the bottles full of pee out into the darkness and set about waiting some more.

After what seemed like an enternity, our boyfriends came back out and talked us into going in (with promises of laying their lives on the line for us if necessary). So, being cold, bored, and curious, we agreed.

People….it was just like you see in the movies. Hard-core bikers smoking weed and drinking. “Old ladies” dancing on the bar and making out with their men. Cigarette smoke so thick, you could get cancer from standing inside for 30 minutes.

We took a corner at the bar and tried to look cool drinking beers. A gangly, bearded biker who was in dire need of a shower walked up and started a conversation with my boyfriend (husband). He was trying to buy me. I got scared shitless. But, my husband/boyfriend said that I wasn’t for sale. So, the biker offered to trade for me….his Harley for me. And, he was drunk and getting very loud and insistent. This is when it occurred to me that I could be drug off by this unwashed barberian at any moment. Remember, I told you that our group was a bunch of pussies. Just when I thought that I was gonna have to really become somebody’s property, another biker walked up with a “Sgt of Arms’ patch. I didn’t know what that was but I figured that he must be somebody big. And, apparently he was. He ordered the other guy to knock it off and go outside and get some air. I started thanking him and he said no problem. Then, he asked us if we wanted something to eat and we said sure. He went and got 2 bowls full of something and brought them back. It was DOG FOOD! And, in a gesture of commardary, he started eating some. Now, I’m thinking how in the friggin’ hell are we gonna get out of this. I mean, this guy saved me from being gross-boy’s mama. How could I refuse? I couldn’t. So, I got prepared, closed my eyes, and……

the police showed up. It was a raid! And, I swear, I thought that I was gonna pass out….either from relief, fright, or both.

We all got patted down.

The next chapter of this little adventure will come in my next post.