Devil Dog’s Motorcycle Clubhouse
Looking at the last few buildings to visit in the mall, Sonja realized that she definitely was on the “other” side of the tracks. The first of the last two buildings was an old gas station with a garage specializing in motorcycle repair. Its second story was the clubhouse for the Devil Dogs Motorcycle Gang.
While two cycles were being worked on in the garage, there was a slough of motorcycles parked on the corner indicating that a party was in progress upstairs. They might know how to find the Devil’s head, thought Sonja so she climbed the stairs and knocked on the door. Coming from inside, she heard a dog bark and the sounds of loud music so she knocked again thinking that they didn’t hear her the first time.
Again, no one responded to the door so she tried the handle and the door opened. A tall biker with lots of tattoos on his arms started to walk in her direction. “What have we here, fellows” he yelled to his friends. “This little mama is real cute.”
Now the group itself was an eclectic collection of tattooed old biker guys with long hair and beards and their lady friends. There were even a couple of skeletons dressed in typical biker garb. The two most unusual ladies were gray haired twins dressed in black leather. Their clubhouse was unique to say the least. The walls were decorated with Harley-Davidson signs and the bathroom was known as the Pit Stop. A cute little hound dog lapped up the spilt beer on the floor.
Having dealt with these types at home, Sonja looked him straight in the eyes and said “Dude, I need your help.” She sat down on the old sofa next to a cute Rottweiler dog whose name was Devil the 5th, and relayed her story to the whole group.
“I’d put you on the back of my bike and drive you home, baby, but I have no idea where San Francisco is located. I don’t see it on any map that I have. I wonder where and how far away it is.”
“It’s a fabulous city,” cried Sonja who could not figure out why no one knew where it was. “Why it is right next to the Pacific Ocean.” She proudly stated that it was in the State of California but the faces of the bikers still looked blank. Never had they heard of California, San Francisco or even the Golden Gate Bridge.
Sonja began to cry. How was she going to get home if no one knew where home was in relation to Spirit Hill? Why was Igor the only one who claimed to know? Could she trust him?
Brillo, a tall biker with kinky hair, was the club president and generally spoke for the group. “We have all had trouble with Igor. We may be different but he is truly evil. Be careful, little Mama. I know you have no choice but to believe that he will do the right thing, but it is hard to trust a man like that. We are going to make you an honorary member of the Devil Dog’s Motorcycle Club so that you will have our protection as long as you remain in Spirit Hill. Let’s all have a beer and party!”
A few club members went downstairs to work on their bikes while Sonja shared a beer with those remaining in the clubhouse, watched as some members played cards and listened to the music that emanated from the corner juke box.
Still having a few places to visit before the Center Court show, Sonja, feeling a little tipsy, downed the rest of her beer in one big swallow, thanked the guys and gals for making her a club member, and left the clubhouse trying not to fall down the stairs.
At the bottom of the stairs, three mates on bikes revved their motors in her honor, and waved goodbye. They wished with all their hearts that they had had the Devil’s head which Sonja needed to get home. “Damn that Igor, they thought. Why did he have such control over them all?”
They watched over Sonja as she walked into the Elixir Lounge which was next door.