![]() ![]() I also knew them because I'd partied with them.Īnd that day I was starting as the new office manager of the garage.Īnd that day was only one, single day after I'd been laid by Tack, the president of Chaos Motorcycle Club and, essentially, my boss.Īnd lastly, that day was only one single day and one single night after Tack had slam, bam, thank you ma'am'ed me. They were famous because of Ride and because many of their rough-and-ready-looking members had been photographed with their custom bikes and cars. I also knew the Chaos Motorcycle Club owned the garage and four auto supply stores, this one in Denver, one in Boulder, another in Colorado Springs and the last one that just opened in Fort Collins. In fact, I knew nothing about non-custom cars and bikes, but I still knew about Ride. ![]() I was pretty sure of this because I knew not that first thing about custom cars and bikes. Hell, everyone in Colorado knew about them, and I was pretty sure most everyone in the United States too. Their cars and bikes had been in magazines and they were commissioned for movies. Movie stars and Saudi Arabian sheiks bought cars and bikes from them. ![]() ![]() Ride Custom Cars and Bikes, my new place of employment, was world famous. I studied the mammoth garage as I approached. I made it to the forecourt of the three-bay garage that was the other part of Ride's operation. I T WAS TEN to eight when I held my breath and turned off Broadway into the wide, cement-covered drive that took me around the big warehouse auto supply store that was part of Ride's operation. ![]()
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