( she and my stepfather had divorced, she waited tables so my brother and I had a roof and food)
Anyway, a group of men were giving her a hard time, I won’t get into details, but they were doing it because they could. A local group of Hells Angels were seated nearby.
Those giving her a hard time made her cry. She walked away from the table and out of the corner of her eye saw one of those Hells Angels get up and go to the table she had left.
When she came back, they were sweet as pie. She said they bent over backwards to make her feel better, left a huge tip.
The Hells angels stayed until they left. And when the Hells angels left one told her “no one will ever bother you while we are here”
Mom said she felt bad because those she feared had shown her kindness.
Anyway that’s my story.
I worked at a very large state park in Oregon for 2 summers while going to community college.
The worst group campers by far were church groups and an environmentalist college group named OSPIRG.
The best group campers were the biker groups. They rode in, set up camp, had a good time, didn’t disturb others, and left the site as clean or cleaner than they found it.
The punks on the rice rockets are not real MC gangs. They are the rice rocket version of the jerks in Portland, OR on bicycles that act like militants and are above the law.
That’s similar to my experience when I served beer in a pizza joint. The tough looking bikers were among my most polite customers.
I saw this video too. I looks like the riders were behaving like motorcycle riders in some 3rd world places where there are not many traffic rules.
This is going to sound really odd.
In 1985 I was doing a tour from the Dallas area to Santa Fe on a bicycle and had a car run me off the road. I completely taco’d (Bent double like a taco shell) my front wheel.
I couldn’t even push the bike because the wheel was bent so badly and had to keep the front wheel off the ground. Including the panniers full of stuff the front end of the bike probably weighed 35 pounds. Four guys on motorcycles wearing the scary leather stuff and all carrying pistols were the only ones to stop and help. There were no cell phones at that time so one went 20 miles to the next town and got a county sheriff to come pick me up. The other three stayed until the patrol car showed up.
Luckily there was a store in the town that sold kid’s bikes. One of them had a 27 inch wheel which while cheap would fit the frame. I cut the bent rim off the hub and packed the hub.
I was really appreciative. The motorcycle guys wouldn’t even let me buy them dinner for their help.
Many moons ago when i was high school age, two of my older brothers worked and managed a pizza place. One evening a biker gang...The Gyspy Jokers..came in for pizza. Brothers told the group, both guys and gals they were welcome as long as they caused no trouble. The gang stayed spent money, drank beer, and generally were just a bunch of friends having a night out.