Hells Bells...

Dream On – Old Man…..

A touch of fiction….

The ancient Hells Angel was living in the past. He was one of the originals and his tattered jeans only went to prove it. His old motorcycle, a Royal Enfield 500 was also showing signs of wear and tear and was responsible for most of the grease and oil on his torn shirt.

After two convictions for Drink Driving, he no longer drank his old favourites Budweiser and Jack Daniels but stuck rigidly to just plain old orange juice. Although an Englishman living for the past thirty years in the US, his 'family' of fellow Angels treated him with respect and accepted him as a ‘brother’.

As a matter of fact, they had, on his seventieth birthday, three years earlier, clubbed together and bought him a brand spanking new Harley Davidson. He however, after the initial ride, put it aside and went back to the old Enfield.

As he pulled up outside the Dolphin Bar, about fifty miles from Las Vegas, he noticed that there was a total absence of other bikes. He was uncertain whether it was today that they were supposed to meet but was sure that the Chapter leader, Garfield had said that it was.

He took out his tattered wallet and looked at the self-adhesive note stuck on the inside and read it. He saw the day and date, but it meant nothing to him. He did not even know what day it actually was right now.

He went over to the roadside and decided to wait. A fern, growing behind the rock on which he sat, somehow got through one of the tears in his jeans and began to tickle his upper leg. "Good Lord" he exclaimed "but that's the closest I've been to any sort of sex for at least ten years". He laughed as he lit a hand-rolled cigarette.

A roar of engines suddenly brought him back from his daydreaming of old adventures of when he was young and he looked down the road into the distance. "Crikey" he exclaimed "there must be over a hundred bikes, at least I got the day right, more by luck than judgment".

The convoy of Angels arrived and at least a quarter of them were wearing blue patches on their jackets. One, a burley twenty stone character, known among the fraternity as 'Baby Blue' removed a packet from the rear of his bike and together, the group formed a circle that encompassed their friend. Without a word, they handed it to him.

Again, without saying a word, he began to undo the string holding it together and when done, he looked in amazement at the leather jacket that it held. As he saw the British Union Jack emblazoned on the back, together with the Enfield Logo, a tear came to his weary old eyes.

When he eventually read what it said beneath, he sobbed out of control. It read 'Buy British'. "Happy Birthday, old man" the Chapter Leader said as he clapped him on the shoulder. "Put it on" he insisted "and let’s ride into Vegas with you in the lead. To-day is yours old man - ride on Limey - let's make it a day to remember.......".

-----------------Mike---------------