All my life
I’ve wanted to belong. You know belong to a group, an
organization a club. When I was a kid, we would form a club
a week just two or three guys and we made up so many
qualifications that no one else could possibly join. So the
next week we would start a new club with a different name, a
couple of new faces and a whole new set of rules and
regulations. Then there were the club houses. You know the
drill, my basement, Riches garage, Johnnie’s yard etc. Sure
we would have fun but the rules and the regs we imposed on
ourselves were just over the top!
Then there
were the mini-gangs. Those were the territorial groups
around the area. If you wanted to hang out on a certain
corner you had to get permission from the group president.
You could also be brought into the group by an existing
member; it had to be one of the boys, never one of the
girls. Now these were not violent or aggressive gangs like
there are today. No these were definitely groups.
Occasionally there would be a problem between groups,
usually over a girl, but they were always worked out
peacefully. But alas, these also became heavy with rules.
The type that made you go to a place you didn’t want to go,
at a time you didn’t like. The ones that said we are going
to the beach Saturday morning at 6 am. And any member that
didn’t show would be out of the group. Just the little
things that made it difficult to deal with.
So now later
on in life, married with four grown children, I decide to
fulfill my lifelong dream and get that Harley that I so
truly deserve. After checking out a few of the local dealer
prices I chose my bike and joined the “National” Hog
association. This was cool, but not really satisfying. I
wanted more, camaraderie, friends, etc; etc. So now I start
checking out the various Hog “chapters”. Every dealer has
its own and they’re all different in one way or another.
After investigating a couple and asking some questions, I
decided to join a new group at a brand new Harley
dealership. I figured that it would be great for me as I was
new to Hog and the whole chapter deal. I figured we could
all learn together.
I couldn’t
believe it in only three or four months in existence we had
well over 150 members. The meetings, once a month, were
packed and all was going well. We had a, chapter members
only, chat room, where we could help each other out with
bike problems, mechanical advice and such. All was well in
Harley Land.
Then one day I
started to notice these postings for “officer” meetings.
These were closed meetings for officers only. God only knows
what unspeakable things went on behind those closed doors.
The next strange thing I saw was titles. Yes, titles! Labels
given to a guy I called “brother” last week would now have
the word “Captain” before his last name and a “patch” on his
vest denoting that fact! Now when I would go to the chat
room I would see postings from Mr. Bob So-n-so, Road
Captain. Sam Somebody, (Head) Road Captain. Freddy Lookatme,
Safety Officer and the obligatory Louie Fondumottz, Ride
Captain, the Enforcer. There was the Chief Editor, Assistant
Directors, 50/50 Captain Etc; etc; etc. With over 150
members we had to have about 50 Captains, Officers,
Lieutenants, President and assorted assistants, and we have
a bathroom monitor or two!
Now all of a
sudden there were those dreaded rules and regulations again!
You can’t say THIS and you can’t mention THAT in the chat
room. All of a sudden the chat postings were monitored by
the Dealer so now you couldn’t tell another member you found
a Harley part, which he needed, on sale at another dealer
with-out being flogged by the “Captain of Punishment”. I got
so fed up with all the chapter rhetoric I just went and tore
off my chapter patches.
So once again
I’m a loner, a solo rider, off on a mission to no where in
particular and anywhere in general. It is amazing that just
riding alone I hook up with so many groups out riding. They
may be a “club” from New Jersey, or a “group” from Long
Island and sometimes a “Hog Chapter” from out of the area. I
do find that most “bikers” are friendly and just love
talking motorcycle. So if you come across a bunch of bikes
out on a Sunday ride, tag along behind them. Sooner or later
they will stop for food, gas or that butt break. That’s when
you can do what I do; join the “club” for the day! No
strings, no rules and definitely no captains…
See you in the
saddle!
Mr. Bling
Frank Acquafreda
