The Retired Biker Housewife

Great excerpts from, Ride the Warrior's Fury, a biker fiction novel about The Devil's Deacons MC of Long Beach, Cal. No run of the mill biker momma; she tells her side of the stories and legends of real bikers and why Old School is best.

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Thursday, April 22, 2010

Patch and Colors Ban: Discrimination, Litigation and Old School versus New

As we all know, and discriminators often conveniently forget, there are certain laws designed to protect all people against the act of discrimination in the United States. We as US citizens have equal rights regardless of who we are or what we believe. In addition, it is accepted in free countries that civil rights are indistinguishable from natural rights, derived from the rights of nature, and last I heard we were a free country. However, here in the US, in order to ensure we may exercise our natural rights, have the United States Constitution, along with all amendments and acts that follow to back up and guarantee our rights.

The Fourteenth Amendment and the Court’s interpretations, besides defining citizenship,  guarantees that no state may bridge the privileges or immunities of citizens, deprive any person of life, liberty or property without due process of law or deny anyone within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws. So what exactly is due process of law? Due process prohibits a variety of social and economic regulations, recognizes many fundamental rights such as privacy, requires certain hearings before taking action against a citizen and guards against conflicts of interest in courts of law.

Fundamental rights are like a set of guidelines under the law that says human rights are protected under our Constitution and so are given a high respect in our courts when there are conflicts between individual liberty and governmental infringement. Although many fundamental rights are widely considered to be human rights, the classification of a right as fundamental invokes specific legal tests used by our courts.

Fundamental rights are generally accepted and recognized as including but not limited to, the right to keep and bear arms, the right to freedom of movement within the country, the right to freedom of association,  the right to freedom of speech, the right to equal protection under the law, the right to freedom of thought -- in a nutshell, freedom and equal treatment for all. So, the Fourteenth Amendment guarantees our fundamental rights and our fundamental rights guarantee our freedom of speech along with the First Amendment. Our freedom of speech then, is covered under both Amendment Fourteen and One. But, does a patch or colors constitute freedom of speech? According to our Courts, that’s not necessarily so.

Many bikers argue that under the First Amendment it is unconstitutional to ban colors as it is a violation of their freedom of speech, expression and expressive association rights. As far as I know, a patch has never been considered or ruled protected speech under any court of law.  It’s been ruled that a patch does not convey a particular message.  My personal opinion is that, if the courts are ruling that a patch does not convey a particular message, why in the hell is anyone banning it in the first place?

So why then is it allowed for a business, a city, a state or any other political entity to mandate that a biker who wears colors be denied access or service to an establishment, a city drag race, a fair or any other event?  Ah, you say, it’s because bikers and biker gangs are bad and we don’t want bad people rubbing elbows with we good people.  Business owners may even say they have the right to refuse service to anyone. Yet, in towns across America, many of those same businesses hypocritically salute bikers by displaying huge banner welcome signs when a big rally occurs so they can collect extra revenue.

Cops reason that bikers are gang members, do illegal acts and are no better than street gangs such as the Crips and Bloods.  They say the ban is to guarantee public safety. My old man doesn’t fly MC colors and has been a biker for 50 years give or take a few. He’s been an associate and supporter long before it became trendy and has been pulled over with or without those who were flying colors; just for being a biker.  He doesn’t get pulled over now (knock on wood) like he did in the old days when there weren’t color bans. Back then, bikers got pulled over, harassed and put in jail; overnight if they were lucky and came up with no warrants. Today, if the cops did so, they might be pulling over doctors, lawyers and Indian chiefs.

When regular motorcycle enthusiasts took to the two-wheeled mode of transportation and spent loads of money doing so, they fueled a movement to become trendy wannabe bikers. Harley Davidson cashed in and formed the Harley Owners' Group. They wear a patch. I have nothing against the group, so don’t write me nasty letters, but the HOG Group is not an MC; it is a polite group of people who like to show off their shiny waxed bikes, replete with plenty of custom after market doo dads, wear designer leather and ride with like-minded people. They wear chaps with fringe and Conchos, jackets with huge Harley Davidson Logos and spend, spend, spend at the Harley Boutiques; motorcycle boutiques that were once dirty bike shops where a man came in and spit on the floor, grabbed his crotch and sat at a stool at the parts counter full of ashtrays to order bike parts, look at pictures of nasty women draped on motorcycles, and bull shit. Definitely not like the thousands of bike shops or majority of bike riders we see today.

Why is the color and patch banning more of an issue today than long ago? Probably because of the sheer numbers of bikers who have burst onto the scene in the last 10 to 20 years. Even probably because motorcycle clubs, bikers, motorcycle enthusiasts and wannabe bikers are more litigious in our present day. Today, a club is more likely to scream, “I know my rights,” and file suit when they feel their rights have been violated. In the old days, a dirty scooter trash biker felt lucky if he escaped being jailed or worse. Then, bikers hung out at biker bars, clubhouses or flop-houses and stayed away from cocktail lounges that didn’t want them. Today’s bikers have joined the long lines of litigious multitudes eager to file their complaints, suits and grievances. Maybe it will work and someday the banning of colors will be prohibited just as the banning of people of color was prohibited when they finally abolished the Jim Crow Laws of the Old South.

Peace to you all whatever you may choose.

Nancy Frye-Swope
The Retired Biker Housewife

Nancy Frye-Swope 2010 © All Rights Reserved

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Bikers to the Rescue: Kira Sullivan's Bad Scene


This excerpt from “Ride the Warrior’s Fury,” is when eight-year-old Kira Sullivan comes home from school to find her mother dead of an overdose. Her father Kelly hasn’t come home from work yet, but her big sisters and the Devil’s Deacons’ brothers rush to help. It's Friday April 31, 1968:

     Gypsy pulled up to the curb and, with a puzzled look on her face, said out the open passenger window, “What’re you doing out here?”
“Ah f**k Gypsy, I think mother’s either passed out or dead and Kira found her and she’s home alone and doesn’t know what to do. Dad won’t be home yet. She called, babbling and looking for you. Maggie told her to wait out on the front porch. Let’s go.” Kerrie took a breath, got in the car and slammed the door. 
 Gypsy pulled away from the curb without hesitating, tires squealing, “Ah s**t.”
“I told Maggie to call Bobby down at the shop, too,” said Kerrie
“Good thinking. Poor Kira finding her like that. It’s awful, that kid having to live with her like that. Doesn’t Daddy understand what’s going on?”
“He knows; he has to for crying out loud.”
It took them ten minutes to get to the house and, by then, an ambulance had arrived and the front door was wide open. Kira sat motionless on the grass with her legs folded underneath her, her hands in her lap.  Gypsy pulled the car up to the curb so they wouldn’t block the ambulance. Both girls ran to Kira and pulled her up into their arms together.
Gypsy let go and said, “Kerrie you stay here with Kira, I’m going to go in and see what’s going on.”
Kerrie pulled her wind breaker off and placed it around her young sister, then sat down and pulled her up onto her lap.
Gypsy walked back toward the bedroom where an ambulance driver leaned up against the doorway. She heard a man inside the room say, “She’s colder and deader than a doornail Mitchell. Looks like the old bat offed herself or o.d. She’s lying in puke and a bunch of Valium and Librium are spilled all over the night stand. Use their phone and call the coroner.”
The guy in the doorway replied, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, it’s not like we gotta hurry if she’s already croaked, right?” He looked up at the same moment he finished his sentence, spotted Gypsy and said, “Who’re you?”
Gypsy stopped dead in her tracks as she heard their exchange and said in a voice dripping with scorn, “Mitchell, I’m the daughter of the old bat who you say offed herself.”  
Mitchell at least had the grace to feel guilty at her overhearing them talk so rudely about her mother, and his face and neck turned red with shame. 
Gypsy heard motorcycles outside, then a commotion broke out behind them so they both turned to see Bobby decked out in full colors bearing down on them, followed by Big Fatty rushing down the hallway. Big Fatty overflowed the space with his mammoth menacing girth, shoulder to shoulder in the hallway. 
Mitchell went from red embarrassment to pale terror as he stared at two of the meanest looking motorcycle outlaws he’d ever had occasion to see up close and personal.  He dry swallowed and managed to stutter, “I I I I’m s s s sorry, really I’m s s sorry. I didn’t mean any disrespect.  It’s j j j just been a long b b bad day. Your mother has passed and we need to call the coroner before anyone sees her or touches her.”
Big Fatty heard Mitchell apologizing to Gypsy and took it to mean the stutterin’ twit had done somethin’ bad. He’d mounted his trike and took off like the cavalry coming to save a wagon train full of pioneers from being scalped by savage Indians; all the way, working himself up and looking forward to the sheer joy of kicking ass.
They’d left Theo to hold down the fort at SO-CAL and sped like maniacs over here.  He would be disappointed if he didn’t get to get to do somebody violence.  He growled, “You pencil necked f**kin geek, I’m gonna squeeze your f**kin head like a pimple.”
And then Kelly snarled behind them all, “What the f**k is going on here in my God damned house?
More than Mitchell could bear, he peed down his leg.

Peace to you all whatever you may choose.

Nancy Frye-Swope
The Retired Biker Housewife

Nancy Frye-Swope 2010 © All Rights Reserved