Mar 29, 2017
2 min read
- I remember a road trip, in 1967, on my way to Fresno California from Butte Montana. I had ulterior motives, but at the age of nineteen, and driven by hormones, I was open to the adventure and the excitement that moment in time provided. I pulled into a little twenty four diner about three in the morning, in Eugene Oregon, sat down for a cup of coffee, when my view of the world, as I knew it, changed forever. I thought I was hearing a herd of buffalo charging up the road, but as I looked outside I realized I was about to have my first encounter with the Hells Angels. What an impressive sight to behold. Black leather, vests, bandanas, and an incredible collection of loud, individual, fire breathing Harley’s. I can’t remember how many bikes pulled up, but there was enough to put a chill down my spine and change the vibe inside the diner to what’s going to happen next. I was just a long haired country bumpkin on a lark, but now I was surrounded by a pack of wolves, modern day outlaws, riders on the storm, like I was being transformed, moved in some strange way. These people, spirits, ghosts, men and women just simply took over the place. I’ve never seen a cook and waitress go into such hyperdrive. Looking back, l think that is why I laugh so hard when ever I watch the biker scene in Pee Wee’s Big Adventure, because that was me! Free, above the law, feared by society, at the time, how much more romantic could it get? In those days, reality was what you made it. I finished my coffee and drove off into the night.
