By Jake ‘Edge’ Walker
The old man sat forward in his lawn chair, his craggy face lit by the crackling fire. Weathered by almost 70 years of riding, it was still a strong face. Laugh-lines were most abundant but years of hardship and hard living had etched his face into a roadmap of wrinkles. As he unfolded himself from the chair and busied himself stoking the fire two young men hailed him and strode into the firelight.
“Hey Gramps!” called the tallest and he wrapped his arms around the old man and they lifted each other from the ground as they pounded the back of the other. The younger held the older at arm’s length and surveyed his grandfather’s face.
“You get uglier every time I see you old man. It gets any worse, we’ll have to put you in a sideshow.” He declared this with a serious face and deep voice that quickly fell into laughter as the old man started hitting him on any exposed skin he could slam his gnarled fists into. They wrestled for a moment and then broke apart as the youngster bent double from a rib punch. “Uncle, uncle” he laughed and staggered back to the fire.
The old man laughed and followed him and he snagged three brews from the cooler and tossed them to the young men. They caught them, tapped the tops and capped them. The old man said “To the Ride!” “To the ride” they echoed and drank deep of the cold brew.
They drew the chairs together and sat for moment. Introductions were made, hands were shaken and talk turned to family, bikes and riding. Everyone had called the old man Hoppy for so long, he claimed even he didn’t know how he’d come by the name but Derrek had always called him ‘Gramps’. He had talked his buddy into spending some time with his gramps by promising him there would be stories and beer. You can be assured that the beer was a major factor in his decision.
Silence had fallen and Derrek spoke. “Gramps, would you tell me the ‘Beat Down’ story again? Jason’s never heard it. Please?” He watched his grandpa’s eyes stare into the flames but they seemed to be focusing fifty years into the past. He cleared his throat and glanced at Derrek’s friend, Jason.
“Back in ’74 I was a ‘slick back’ with no patch on me; go where I wanted, when I wanted. Didn’t owe a damn thing to nobody and that was the way I liked it. I was in a southeast state rolling through a good sized city and got a powerful thirst for a JD and a beer back. So, I just peeled off an exit at random and just started cruising the main drags until I found what I was looking for, neon signs and scoots parked out front. As I backed in I saw there was a lot of green and black colors. On the bikes and on the patch-holders that were standing around out front. I knew they were prospects doing ‘Bike Watch’ and gave ‘em a nod as I walked in.” Hoppy took a long pull on his beer can, drained the dregs into the sand and motioned for Jason to bring him another. He winked at Derrek while Jason’s back was turned.
“I didn’t know it but I had just walked into a bar owned and controlled by the Phantoms. They were a MC made up mostly of hard-core 1% scooter tramps, some prospects and hangers-on. Well I had been around 1% before and I thought I knew the score. Walked up and got a pitcher of brew and headed out back to the pool tables. There was only one so I waited until a break and held up my challenge quarter and the ‘Patch’ at the table looked me over. I was 6’4”, 180 road-hardened pounds and he finally nodded at me. So, I tossed it under the cushion and watched while he destroyed his opponent in quick hard shots.
“Long-story-short, he was the Vice-Pres and when we had played three games at $10 a game, he took exception to my winning them all. I had been cracking jokes and just generally being my smart-ass self but maybe I should have noticed that no one else was laughing. We had a brief shoving match about the pay-off and I said “OK, let’s take it outside so there’s no blood on the pool table.” I turned and marched out the backdoor into the alley and squared off. He came out first and the five members watching the game were right behind him.” Derrek, who had heard the story before and knew what would come next, watched as his Gramps took a long pull from his brew and then looked back into the depths of the flames.
“Well, I whooped him fair and square and when his eyes rolled up and his butt hit the ground (for the third time) I was bloody and barely standing. As I turned to the nearest guy behind me, I caught a fist with my nose and I went down. A boot to the ribs kept me there and that’s when I blacked out.” A shadow passed over Hoppy’s old bearded face and he drained the can. Jason was round-eyed and already had a frosty ready for him and Gramps nodded his thanks to him, capped it and drained half in a quick convulsive gulp. His hands were shaking slightly as he settled back.
“A barmaid called the meat wagon for a ‘Alley Pickup’ and then when they were ready to release me she took me in and nursed me back to health. She was a very good nurse!” He leaned over and leered at the boys and waggled his bushy white eyebrows at them. They both laughed and Gramps gave an evil chuckle. He sipped his brew and sat back quietly, lost in the past and living it again. Derrek muttered something to Jason about his injuries he had after the beating.
“Oh yeah, I was a hell-of-a-mess. Busted ribs on both sides, couple a concussions, busted hands from them stompin on ‘em. Cracked bones in my shoulder and arms. Took almost four months to get back to where I could fight agin.”
Jason goggled at Hoppy. “FIGHT again? You mean you went LOOKING for ‘em?”
The old man turned, started up out of his chair and looked at him. A fierce, predatory face had replaced the old wrinkled one, Jason stepped back so quick he almost stumbled into the fire. They all laughed, Jason’s was shaky and the old face was back where it had been. Hoppy settled back and groaned a little.
“Well, I won’t bore you with all the details but I found every one of them sumbitches. Caught ‘em alone told ‘em who I was and fought ‘em and whupped everyone! It weren’t easy cuz they was as tough as me and I was still healing. Caught a shot to the ribs that almost took me down, couple of times. I ain’t stupid though, I had magazines tucked into the tops of my jeans and had Ace bandages almost up to my armpits. I wore gloves to help protect my hands, you know just things ya do to give you an Edge… now, Beer me!” Jason brought the called for beer but he had a puzzled look.
“Why didn’t they just shoot ya?”
“Well I just never gave ‘em the chance, did I? I would set it up so we were just walking towards each other and when he would recognize me, the fight was on. Most fights only last 30 to 40 seconds. If it takes longer than that, you ain’t fighting right! HeeHee! Anywho, by the time I got to the last two, the club had started only going in pairs so that made it harder. They were running scared and were mad as hornets in a downed nest. Had a reward out and everything. So, I did the only thing I could.” He took two or three deep draughts of his cold one and glanced at Derrek with a slight sly wink.
“Well… what did you do?” Jason blurted out, when Gramps showed no sign of continuing the story.
“I knew some strippers and had done a few ‘favors’ for them and I asked them if they would ‘cozy-up’ to the boys I needed, take ‘em somewhere for a quick screw and I would step in and deliver the screwin! Ha HAAAA… yeah buddy… Did two in two days, nearly killed me and the last one wuz one-tough-sumbitch! I think if his pants hadn’t been around his knees, he woulda had me! When he fell, I was out on my feet but I made it to the car where my lady was waiting. No way, no how could I have ridden after that fight.” He fell silent and his ancient eyes stared at the fire again, lost in thought. Derrek stirred up the fire and added fresh wood.
“Who was the lady waiting in the car?” Jason asked softly in the silence broken only by the fire’s muttering.
Hoppy glanced at his grandson and grinned. “Who was she? Why, she’s my wife, Gramma Rici. Derrek’s Gramma, she’s up the house right now wonderin when the ‘Men Folk’ are comin up for dinner.”
Jason looked at his friend with a kind of awe in his eyes. Derrek just grinned back and said “Told ya they were crazy ol farts!”
Hoppy stood up and had a long bone-popping stretch followed by muttered curses. He turned to the two young men and said “Ya know what the REAL kick-in-the-pants is? Gramma Rici was the ol’ lady of the Vice Pres that I knocked on his ass three times! Took her away, I did and he ain’t getting her back!” He laughed and led the way to his house.
hope you git around to writing more of em.