Jiro's Younger Brother The Formidable Foe Hakaida!!

Some of you have been living the breezy alternative life on the coasts of Spain, partaking of exotic drugs and hairy heinie....

Some of you have been *ahem* wind surfing (is THAT what they're calling it now?) in
the Mediterranian...

I went here over the weekend:



...with the COOL people.
This is a partial view of the parking lot of the Fall Monroe ABATE swap meet. Most of what you see parked belongs to patch holders. ABATE swap is one of the big 1%'er events of the year in this neck of the woods.



Here's our hooch. The left side looks a little bare because our crap sold out pretty quick. Most of the rest was our buddy Albert's stuff, and a lot of it was not meant to be sold, just attract attention...like the 1919 engine and frame in the background.



The guy on the far left with the giant moon head is Albert, early a.m. looking pretty normal and subdued, for Albert. This guy is 62, looks 40, acts 20 and has never finished a sentence in his life. He's a lifelong biker and holds a Masters in engineering. About five years ago, everyone on the mountain with a scanner heard the aid call go out when he broke two fingers AND sent a woman to the emergency ward with a dislocated vertabrae when he fucked them both right off the bed.
Ooo - See that hot rockin' bear center stage? He hung around all day. That is Prime three-Legged North American Technicolor Griz. Fine? Cute? Butch? Oh my GOD. *fanning self briskly*


Here's our next-hooch neibors. Deal with the hair on the little fuck. That's a shaved mohawk with a rattail mullet. Last year it was down his back...he must have got it caught in something. Both these guys are officers in the Banditos we've been seeing around for years. They turned out to be pretty cool for patch holders.




Hardcore alternative. Until her husband died of cancer a couple of years back, they both lived totally outside the straight economy, on the road, travelling around to bike events, sewing patches and doing leather repairs.
Once the event opened they were completely surrounded three deep all day long. Thats been the norm during every event I've seen them at for 20 years now. They clear several THOUSAND a day. Not bad for no overhead and 10 hours of work a WEEK.


Here's the Red and White setting up just like regular ordinary mortals.
They sell stickers, t-shirts, halter tops and thongs with 'Support your local Angel' on them.
Right.
Like I am going to
1. pay MONEY to
2. wear Hell's Angel underpants.
Perhaps not.
Should I feel the need, perhaps I'll just get a Magic Marker and write 'Yes, I am a big ol' loser' across my forehead instead.



What you are seeing is real, and it was not the only one in evidence by a long shot. This is a woman in her forties, in the year 2006, wearing a 'Property Of' vest.
Thank you madam. You have just set the Women's Movement back 150 years.
Now to be completely fair, when her old man turned around, it could clearly be understood by anyone with normal eyesight WHY his roadname was 'Kickstand' so maybe she doesn't give a hoot in hell what I think about her wearing the 'Property of' vest either. Hmmm.




This year 'Resurrection' was representing pretty well. In years past maybe one or two guys would show up, but this year they were all over the place. If you can't make out the picture, it's a motorcycle bursting out of a fiery skull. Goofy, but a lot of these patches were designed by tattoo artists in the 50's so they have that retro thing happening. They seem like pretty good guys, and they don't wear Bandito affiliate patches, so they're two points ahead with me.





This mullet belongs to an 'outlaw' Christian m/c. These guys are just about the most scuzz-encrusted, greasy losers you'd ever want to avoid; and this in a subculture not known for it's personal daintiness. Most of them found religion in jail. Their prez was a huge, fat sonofabitch with long white hair and the delicate, lingering aroma of armpit ass-socks. His cut was literally stiff and shiny with filth. I had to nudge his flab out of my path one day to look at something and he gave me one of those 'you dare exist?' attitudes, which I ignored, coming as it did from his punk-raping jailbird ass. This year everyone is wearing 'R.I.P. Preacher' patches. One pities the mortuary technician on duty that day....eugh.




Just say NO.

NO.
NO.
NO.
NO.

Goddammit; where is Nancy Reagan when you need the bitch?





Remember these?
Sucker ran like a scalded cat, too. You take that much mass off a Volkswagen bug, though, and that's what will happen. His bars stretched back about 2 1/2 ft into the cab.




You know, despite my tone, I had an excellent time. This is my peer group, after all...black clad rowdy smartasses who like to go fast, travel light, set shit on fire and make loud frappy noises.
I can take or leave most of the women, but if I am predeceased by my present husband, I know exactly where to go for a replacement. No shit- I spend a day at this place huffing all this leather, motor oil and testosterone, and by the time we leave - ahem. Never mind. Sometimes my daughter reads this. But thats a fact.