Ok Slim, for a fan of your stature, here goes. Crank it up!!!
The way I saw it! Old saying: “Ride A Bike, Go To Prison”. Hanging around, or “prospecting”, to get into a “1%Club” can become a quick way to prison. [Note: I've never been a convict, like it is rumored in my hometown. I worked for the Dept. of Corrections, ran the Indian Ed. Program. I would go to prison daily, came out everyday... back to the tale.] Individual members in the club are sometimes dealin' drugs. They will use “prospects” to do their dirty work. Once the club is busted, prosecutors use what's called the Rico Act- the old Nixon Organized Crime Bill - where they put up that this club or group has been organized to perform criminal acts. Once they decide to use “Rico” they will seize everything you own- your house, car, motorcycle, pickup, tools. The feds like this law! They are as good as any divorce lawyer, yes they is, and this is before you are convicted. Now that youare destitute, you will qualify for a public defender (AKA pretender)- a first year lawyer working to pay off student loans.
You are now known as the defendant who is going to get a new number! Unless you are “patched”, you won't get much help from the club In fact, if they think you made a deal, your ass is grass. Once convicted, the government sells everything you own and splits the proceeds between state and fed. Once in prison, you find out real soon that you need to join another gang for protection. And to keep your lily-white ass virginal, guess what you're expected to do? Prospect!
Anyhoo... it was back in the early 70s and these newly organized MC clubs were laying out their territory sellin' a little grass. The partying was good and the livin' was easy. Then along came “crank”. This was a biker drug. Drinkin' a little beer, snortin' a little crank, would keep you ridin'. Cocaine would become the no.1 selling drug in the USA. Yuppies loved it- I knew doctors, lawyers, and cops who snorted coke. There was a big difference in these two drugs. Cocaine was coming out of Central America. It's expensive and the high IS OVER QUICKLY! This here “Bathtub Crank” I can make at home from chemicals I can buy. It's cheaper and I can make it last longer. We are in business, an' bidness is good!
The black communities would be taken over by crack made from cocaine. Stretching the expensive powder drug into cheap fast-acting rock - its effect would devastate black neighborhoods. Gangs’ territorial domains would become killing grounds, prisons would be overfilled.
Meanwhile crystal meth would become a favorite among the white youth of this country. Bigger bike clubs wanted more territory. They would move in on the smaller clubs, pull their patches, patch the dealers or kill them. These tactics would start wars between the big clubs which would make the wild west seem tame. The meth craze has been devastating to small town America, including reservations.
I was lucky. Coming home from Vietnam, I would not prospect. I had been telling Marines what to do. I wasn't about to take orders from a “Non Qual”. Later, I worked with drug-dependent male veterans. Been lucky so far. A little alcohol. Quit crank years ago. Most of my offspring just use alcohol... until it kicks their ass. Knock, knock on wood!
Ok, one story after the history lesson. This is for Slim- a real honest to goodness bedtime story. Back in the early 70s, this old patched member of the club I knew was gonna be gone, so he says, “I'll get you a case of beer if you sit here and watch my house.” I shoulda known better. He was a tightwad.
“Ok. When will ya be back?”
“A couple hours! Sit in my recliner.”
New color tv and cold Grain Belt- what a life. About an hour after they left, a UPS truck pulled up. I signed for the huge box- which was light- and put it on the table, sat back with another beer. The phone rang.
”Hello,” I said, “Fuck ain't here!”
“Hey Ray, it's me Fuck. Anything happen?”
“Naw, it's quiet.”
“Anybody come by?”
“Naw... Wait a minute. UPS delivered a big box.”
“Ok, good. Take it in my back room and look outside...are there any strange cars out there?”
“No, just your neighbors” I said.
”Ok, see you later!”
I sat back down. My brain said 'I wonder whats in the box? And why would Fuck call?' I cut open the box to find that three large black lawnbags were filled with “white crosses”. “Holy Fuck”. I filled a bag with 1500 crosses outof the 300,000. I taped the box back up and stashed my cut in the alley. Leaving on my bike, I would come back later when it got dark to retrieve my stash. Fuck never knew. I made some money.
I hate speed, it kills!
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