An Independents Proclamation

Mountain Living

    I've had a few individuals both patch holder and independent alike inquire and even accuse me of being a fake for wearing a 3 piece patch, and the 1% diamond. This is my proclamation of what I represent for the sake of clarity and understanding across the board. So here's a little history on how I became Ziptie by living the life.

    I've spent my entire life struggling to make ends meet, and finding out that friends I called family weren't so much. An endless list of stories that could end with "pity me", but to cut to the chase I decided at one point that I was done with the world. I was done with the social stereotypical attitude of judgement and manipulation. I was tired of the dishonesty and the betrayal; tired of the system.

   I spent several years just looking for a place, a lifestyle that suited me. I was a nomad living out of a mini-van in the mountains of Montana, Idaho, and Utah; a mountain man raised cowboy just living off the land. I eventually came into possession of a crappy little Honda Shadow 700 that I bobbed out and tore the shit out of. On two wheels I felt like I'd found my place.

   I bought my 2015 Harley Davidson Street Bob (FXDB) on July 31st, 2015, and wrecked the bitch doing 70 on Hwy 55 three days later in a 40 mph curve after hitting loose gravel left over from a month old chip seal, walking away with just a scraped finger and light shoulder road rash. I got it fixed up and today, just under a year later, I've got almost 20,000 miles on her and have conquered that same curve multiple times since.

Wreck Aftermath

    I ride 7 days a week, 365 days a year in any kind of weather that Southwest Idaho can throw at me. Pouring rain to blizzard snows. I've rode on road warped ice an inch thick, ate shit, picked it up and kept on riding. My sole transportation is this Harley and if I have somewhere to be, it gets me there. My bike has never known a garage, excluding maintenance time. Its gravel peppered gas tank, its trashed fender and cosmetic damages are all badges of honor, boasting a hard life.

    The fact that I ride hard doesn't make me any better or any worse than any other rider out there. But it has earned me a certain level of respect within my local community that speaks of an understanding that I don't sport anything on my vest that I have not earned, whether under official MC recognition or earned in my own right. That said, the following will define each patch on my independent cut.

    I'll start with the right side. Worn on my right belt line, "If you don't ride in the rain, you don't ride" meant to get a rise or giggle out of readers. Three patches reflecting my Christian faith, "Snake River Valley Christian Riders", A patch of Calvary, and A "Jesus is Lord" ribbon. Just above the ribbon is my hand double stitched 1% diamond; this diamond represents my right to be an individual, it represents my anarchist mindset, a belief that mankind as a whole would be just fine without Federal Government dictating our lives. This diamond represents that I'll live my life as I choose with respect of the well being and rights of others. The government labels people like me "Outlaws" and you can read about what it really means to be a 1%er (HERE), contrary to the deceptions of the government. Finishing off the right front panel just above the top pocket I fly the Rebel or "Southern Cross" flag as an acknowledgement of history.

     The right panel starts at the belt line with the standard for determining who becomes my family "Blood makes you related, loyalty makes you family". Directly left also along the belt line is my Harley Davidson broken wings, which represent surviving that wreck on 55 wearing nothing more than my bandanna, vest, blue jeans and shit kickers. I wear it as a personal reminder that I should be dead. Just above the wings I sport the patch of a small time independent world wide group on Facebook named after that which they represent, "The Bikers Code". An unspoken code known to any real biker; a code that any real biker follows. I'll never pass a downed rider, whether wreck or simply broke down. I'll stop and offer my assistance in any way I can and the cut on your back will bring you no discrimination from me. On that road, a biker is a biker and I'd sure as hell hope that if I were ever stranded that someone would stop for me. If one of your group breaks down during a ride, you stay by their side until they can ride home with you regardless of your life engagements. At the top above my pocket, I sport my legal name "Ziptie".

    Last but certainly not least, my back patch. I sport a 3 piece "vendor" patch setup that some may find disrespectful. Its these individuals I hope will pay close attention to this section of the blog in that it may bring clarity and I hope they'll share the same respect shown to me by local clubs.

   Top rocker "Born Free", bottom rocker "American". A statement declaring my having been born under the protection of the United States Constitution, providing me with documented acknowledgment of my inalienable rights as a human being in existence to live as I choose as long as my actions and choices do not harm or infringe on the rights of others. My center patch sports an American Bald Eagle with wings spread, an American Flag shield with Crossed rifles and text reading "The 2nd Amendment, A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed", "1791", Protect our rights" Don't Tread On Me". This center patch represents the teeth of the Constitution and its 27 Amendments as our right to defend ourselves and those around us from both civil and government threats. Our right to be armed equally to that of the government that dictates us.

   The combination of these three patches is my tip of the hat to every 1% club on the face of the planet. A statement to LEO and the Federal Government boasting our rights to associate with who we please, as we please. I acknowledge the responsibility of my 3 piece cut and the conduct expectations that comes with wearing it. Every single time I walk out my front door wearing this vest, I do so with the understanding that I'm not just representing myself as an individual but I'm representing an image that has been manipulated and stereotyped by the media and government for decades and I accept the responsibility of properly representing the image and the life, regardless of my lack of club affiliation. I represent the MC life with respect, because the MC world has always done right by me.

    I can understand the concern of MC's when they see an independent sporting a 3 piece patch. We live in a world of thoughtless people who would completely disregard the responsibility that comes with it. These individuals pose a threat to the entire culture by having no concern with their public conduct and give MC's a bad wrap because of it. They don't understand or even care that to the general public, we're all the same. They don't see a club name, color and territory, they just see three patches and we all look the same. So what one club does, affects the entire MC community, and the same goes for an independent like myself who sports a 3 piece patch setup.

   I am not a criminal, the only mark on my record is that of a possession of Marijuana charge placed on me in 2011. I don't hang out at the bars, and I don't start shit with people I disagree with unless they threaten my family. I'm just your average Joe minding his own business and living his own life. I have friends in the MC life, and friends who are weekend warriors; I have friends who don't ride and I have friends that hate motorcycles.

This is my proclamation, this is who I am. I am 1%, I'm just a biker.

MLH&R
Ziptie

How the 1% lost its way

    Once upon a time, bikers related to one another based on a mutual appreciation for a motorcycle, a beer, reliability, and dependability. A club cut was a statement meaning nothing more than "this is my family", and all were proud to call it their own. There was no rivalry, no discrimination, no hatred towards one another simply because a certain "color" wasn't shared. Where did it go bad?

    I'm not some old timer, as I've been accused of speaking as one of experience. I'd like to think that I don't speak as some wise old timer because I've "been there and done that", but rather I speak this way because I possess the intellectual capacity to learn from those who've come before me. Having sat and shared coffee and beer with old timers over the years who'd shared dozens of stories each regarding their lives and experiences. I absorbed their knowledge and perspectives, most of which now float in sorrow of times changed; and not for the better.

    If you're ever blessed with the opportunity to sit down with an old timer and hear him speak of times past, you'll hear the joy in his voice as he reminisces in his memories of parties, road trips, camping under the skies and their bikes leaving them stranded in the middle of a Wyoming desert; yet

as his memories become more current, his voice turns to sadness. You'll see a softness come over his eyes as he speaks in shame of the way things have become. A brother lost by the trigger finger of a "rival" club, who's only motive truly boiled down to being simple greed. Money & Business.

    Business & Territory, the source of all our divide and conquer. Chapters all over the globe mistook their constitutional rights as Anarchist Americans (1%) to partake in their substance of  choice as a business opportunity. It could be something as simple as the grass trade, or something as destructive as the meth trade, both equally meaning only one thing to these individuals. Profit.

    Once profit is obtained, territory is developed and determined by presence. The presence of one clubs chapter running business declares it their geographical domain, and greed fuels a willingness to defend their territorial exclusive at any cost. And illegal business has enough of its own risk, so allowing competition seemingly only invites more risk. In reality, as a former pot dealer, it was always good business to have competition because it relieved some of the heat from my own doorstep and dispersed it evenly across the board, but this isn't a concept commonly acknowledged by those in business with harder substances. Where there's big money, there's big greed, and they want it all.

    Then you have dominant clubs who still support the days of old. They police their own and dissolve erratic behaviors by placing fair judgement according to their own bylaws generally founded on the Anarchist mindset the founders of the United States Constitution possessed. Rivalry is also born of the classic "Good VS Evil" concept when the biggest dog in town does not condone destructive trades such as meth or cocaine and moves in to clean up the neighborhood. They fight in defense of noble cause, but unfortunately bare the bad PR caused by those in said shady trades because of the obvious similarities shared with any 3 piece cut. Their 3 piece cut automatically associates them with bad business, and their willingness to exterminate said bad business makes them look like criminals. Robin Hood was actually the hero.

   In association with business came status. Somehow in turn, being a 1%er meant you had to possess an attitude of intimidation to better ensure a path of least resistance. All of the sudden it wasn't enough to possess quality characteristics as an individual, if you didn't "earn" your cut with their club, you'd

no longer get any sort of respect regardless of having never done wrong by the club or its members. When it used to be that two clubs, two individuals could respect each others mutual interests and mutual life struggles, poor attitude now ruled our worlds. Being a 1%er originally represented an individual willing to stand up for what you believe in, and nothing more.

    I've been disrespected on occasion because of my ability to express or explain things in an articulate manner, as though some how being able to think before speaking, and being slow to anger and slow to react on emotion makes me a weaker, "fake" individual. If that's the way it is, then so be it. But true strength comes not from an individual who's only strength is operating through intimidation and image. Having the ability to acknowledge and prioritize what's worth fighting for and what isn't is a sign of true understanding. Because truth is, sometimes its not worth fighting for just because something offends you, something that happens regularly in our biker culture. Rival clubs beating the shit out of each other or worse all because they couldn't see past their political and business differences in order to return to their foundations of mutual interest and respect.

   A few hate me because I don't recognize club rivalries. I have clubs that I favor over others, but I don't accept any club as a whole, not even my favorite club. Just because one may be a member of my favorite club, and sports its cut daily, doesn't mean that I respect him based on his association. If a member of my favored clubs disrespects me, I don't just let it go and accept them as a brother regardless. Instead of starting shit, I choose to disassociate with that individual. I don't cut off the club, I cut off the person.

    In a perfect world it is in this manner that I would determine my respect for a club. I'd first respect the deserving individual, if all individuals are respectable, I'd respect the chapter; if the all the chapters are respectable I'd respect the club. But unfortunately the world does not operate this way, and you cannot just offer a blanket of respect over the entirety of an association. In the real world, respect can

only be given on an individual by individual basis. Because not every member, of every chapter, of every club is going to be worthy of respect as not all will acknowledge respects true meaning. The club cut does not entitle you to respect; integrity and conduct are what determine the level of respect you receive from others, and the cut just represents your chosen family.

   We lost our way because business distorted the perceptions of respect. And in quoting a brother I'll say this, "its the man that makes the patch, not the patch that makes the man". So in a world of cyber bad-asses, take a moment to remind yourself that you cannot disrespect an individual based on club association or lack there of; nor are you excluded from this standard. Instead, remind yourself that respect is earned solely by the way an individual treats another, and cannot be determined by third person perspectives or hearsay. Rejection of this truth makes you the very poser you claim to despise. Because the only posers are those who have forgotten what it means to truly respect.

If you would like to hear my take on what it really means to be a 1%er, be sure to check out the topics dedicated blog here (Born Free Americans the 1%).

MLH&R
Ziptie

Make it your own

My Stock FXDB on day of purchase

   I've made a few references to social media in previous blogs, and the heart of this blog will beat to that very topic. Social media influence.

    If you're anything like myself or those I hang out with, you probably belong to a few groups on Facebook dedicated to your make and model of motorcycle (The Dyna Page in my case). In addition, you'll probably have liked pages such as "The Bikers Code" or "MC Brotherhood 101". These groups and pages share a common interest between you the individual and the biker culture/community. So its not out of the ordinary to naturally feel obligated to ask for input on your personal horse.
   
    "Hey brothers, I'm thinking about getting 16 inch T-Bars for my Dyna Wideglide, but I can't decide between chrome or black.", you scroll down a bit and see some dude asking for input on what it would "look" like with Willie-G gas cap covers or casting a vote between Vance & Hines short shots or Thunder-header 2-1s but only considering the cosmetic opinions of others. Honestly I don't understand it.

    It's your bike fellas (and ladies), why do you rely so heavily on the input of others? Have you ever wondered why 8/10 bikes look virtually identical but belong to riders across the country, or even the world? I understand that riding a cookie cutter like myself, that there is a limited amount of "customizing" that one can do.

   With that considered, there is a considerable portion of things you can build yourself (or a friend) to make it 100% unique. You can make your own bars, you can make your own exhaust, you can make your own luggage racks and your own sissy bars. You can make your own air filters and you can

Rocked bars, travel bag, and 18'' machete

make your own crash bars. You've still got a large amount of control over the design of your bike. So why do so many default to purchasing manufactured items that cost triple, or even quad that of which it would cost them to design and build it themselves? The answer is ease. Sure, it's a polished cookie cutter design that makes your bike look sharp, but it's going to make your heart sink when you pull into a rally and walk past a bike that looks virtually identical.

    Don't get me wrong, a sharp looking bike is a sharp looking bike. Going cookie cutter doesn't mean that you're bike looks like shit; all I am saying is that it takes away from your personal identity and character.

    I'll use myself as an example. I personally don't know how to fabricate, but I have friends that do. I had been considering purchasing a sissy bar off eBay for $200 so that my ole lady could comfortably relax while riding with me. It turned out that my ole lady had a 3 wheeled bicycle that she traded to her cousin in exchange for a custom made sissy bar. I brought my bike up to his place one afternoon and we made some plans. Originally we were going to just utilize the fender bolts to mount the side plates since I have no desire to ever remove it. After realizing how the turn signals were made, we decided to design the plates to slide over the signal bolts without having to disassemble the lights, leaving the front bolt to secure the plates; a "quick attach" type design. The sissy bar now stands 4' tall from the fender as suits my taste and satisfies my urge for that old-school feel.

    Now being that I'm your typical biker that you heard about in the days of old, always being broke and bouncing job to job, I don't have the money for things like grips or pegs. So I utilized the options I do have, and created my own "grip covers". My father has been a leather crafts man for decades, and had some extra leather supplies hanging around. I took some buckskin chap hide and fashioned grip covers out of them, lacing them with heavy duty brown and yellow boot laces, giving it a retro feel. It looked absolutely ridiculous at first being that the leather was super bright, but a couple weeks of use and time in the sun, a few rain showers and having dried up and tightened; I now have grip covers that look aged decades with signs of wear and solid use. Another plus is that you never see "grip covers", let alone out of leather. Only back in the day.

Tan Chap Hide Grip & Lever Covers Newly Made

    I take pride in the days of old which I never personally got to experience (I'm 27), and admire the creativity those ole boys showed when customizing their bikes. If I could learn how to make my own exhaust, I'd go that route too. I fancy the idea of true dual pipes stretching along each side of my FXDB Street Bob, which you never see done because of the electronics that block the left side. But it could be done with the proper amount of patience and creativity.

    Never forget that the small things matter. My bike looks drastically different thanks to even the small changes, like a home made 3'' gas tank lift, and having rocked my handle bars much more forward than you'll see on any stock FXDB, both contributing to giving its stretched look.

    The point I hope to get across is that you should have zero concern as to what others think of your bike and what you've done with it. Instead, do what you like and desire then expect the input to follow. So what if someone doesn't dig your white wall tires (I get grief for it), so what if someone doesn't like your exhaust, bars, or air filter. It's one thing to get opinions on the feel of something like bar height or style, but you'll never get anywhere seeking the public's cosmetic opinions because you'll always be severely divided. If they dig your style, right on man; if they don't, tough shit.

   Be yourself, express yourself. Don't settle for cookie cutter conformity if you can help it! Be sure to check out more blogs regarding all things bikers life from the list above, or direct link here (The Idaho Hog)

MLH&R
Ziptie

Rocked Bars, Travel Bag (Front), Softail swing arm bag (back), 2+ setup,
Worn Chap Hide Leather Grip & Lever Covers, 4' Sissy bar,Shinko White Walls,
Cycle Shack Mufflers & Smoked Signal Lenses. My W.I.P

"Ole Ladies"

   
 

    If by chance you've read my last blog titled "A Bikers Life" you'll know that I was raised country. Growing up was full of "Yes Ma'am", "No Thank You Ma'am" and the like. I grew up with the should be common sense that you don't mess with another mans woman if you've got any brains about you.

    There are many folks, my father included, who grew up with a lifestyle that found the term "Ole Lady" degrading, and I can understand that. But considering our new found lifestyle, it's more of a respected tolerance for him, and an honor for me. To call my girl my ole lady bestows a special level of "mine" for lack of better explanation. That said, this blog will likely not set well with feminists in that they'll feel guys like me see women as "property" rather than a human being. So here's the sitrep.

    The Ole Lady, the greatest personal rank a woman can achieve within the biker culture that gives her a certain level of recognition and acknowledgement within the community that is not offered to anyone else. Once you become a mans Ole Lady you've proven yourself to be loyal, respectful, loving, nurturing, catering and honest, you are in a sense protected by his shadow. Any true biker, 1%-99% who knows she is yours, will respect that through and through. In many cases, some will go as far as to not even acknowledge your woman's presence. Something normal society would take offense to, but its a sign of ultimate respect within the biker community, more so in MC life. Lack of acknowledgment ensures that no bad impressions or disrespect are made.


    Once you gain the status of ones ole lady, your ole mans brothers will look out for you, protect you like a sister, and be a constant barrier between you and any man who would seek to disrespect you, your ole man, or your relationship. "Girlfriends" don't get this luxury because they have boundaries that need be tested in order to establish trust between her and her man. Nobody wants to claim an ole lady only to later find out she's an easy woman. In combination of ole lady status, in company of true brothers, it does away with the insecurities of having other men around your woman. A man can leave his woman in the company of his brothers without worry.

    An ole lady doesn't always agree, or do what she's told. The title doesn't mean submission, it simply means respect. She acknowledges her mans status in the relationship as a leader, a protector, a king; and in return she reaps all the benefits of being his queen. Unbreakable devotion and commitment, nurturing and as much pampering as he's capable of. A proven ole lady knows that she'll never have to worry about another woman. And in the event that another woman over steps her bounds, an ole lady is entitled to unleashing all hell against her offender without interference from her man.

    There are a very select few, I'll quote a previous blog in saying that 1% of the 1% will feel his alpha status entitles him to any woman he desires, but only calls one of them his own. These men are undeserving of any woman and I'm struck with sorrow for these women. You deserve better for all that you offer within your relationship.

    An ole lady generally has her queens seat upon her mans iron horse. The 2 up has her name on it and no other woman rides without her permission, which is extremely rare. The only exception is immediate family, or a brothers ole lady. A brothers ole lady will always respect and request permission if circumstances require that she needs a ride. But the standard stands that nobody rides your ole lady's seat. Its your bike, her seat. Period. Men like myself consider it a great honor to gift the exclusive of his 2+, and a good woman takes pride in that.

    The private life between an ole couple is as any other. You'll love on one another, you'll bicker and argue over stupid shit, and times will be both good and bad. In public among brothers, an ole lady knows her place and how to best honor her man among his brothers. A good woman can also earn her man respect by acknowledging that her words and actions reflect entirely on her man. If she steps out of place or shows disrespect towards someone else, her man is the one to pay. A good woman doesn't have to walk on egg shells, because she naturally understands the definition of respect for her man and those around.

    As a man, I would be lost without my ole lady. She is the foundation at which I stand. The friend I trust more than any other. The only being on earth to know my weaknesses and struggles. She is the pillar of my life's purpose and I am grateful to God above for having blessed me with her partnership in this life.

I love you Katelyn
Sincerely, You're Ole Man.

MLH&R
Ziptie

My Queen

A Bikers Life

Tucker & I on my old 1985 Honda Shadow VT700C

    On July 31st, 2015 I rode to my work at Harley Davidson on my 1985 Honda Shadow VT700C rat rod. A bike that had taught me what it's like to top off the fluids and wrench on a bike after every ride. This bike taught me what it meant to screw up a carb adjustment, or clogging the water system attempting to patch a leak, causing it to run hot and burn holes on the inside of each pair of jeans I owned. This bike taught me what it meant to rage after hours of failed troubleshooting and kicking that bastard over as if its metallic body would somehow feel my pain. It taught a nobody, good for nothing, white boy the basics of old-school motorcycle operation. Creating a bond between man and machine that would never be forgotten.

    My father and I had been talking about the fact that my poor rat rod was nearly at its wits end and I didn't have any other mode of transportation. I had been eyeballing a used Harley Davidson Sportster 72 for a while and was hoping to pull the trigger. Now long story short the sales team took advantage of my enthusiasm and excitement of possibly owning my first Harley and convinced me to go with the 72's big daddy the FXDB, a.k.a Street Bob. Baseline model in vivid black with no special features, just your standard good ole Harley Davidson. I handed my rat rods keys to a co-worker free of charge that very evening, and rode home on my brand new Harley Davidson.

Day 1, my Father and I

    I had made a commitment I would pay for over the course of the next 5 years. $326.77 a month including insurance. This means I would make seemingly infinite sacrifices throughout my life. It means I wouldn't make enough for rent, new shoes, cloths, and I'd virtually be guaranteed to live off ramen noodles, hot dogs, and canned chili. If I wanted any of the above luxuries, I'd have to sacrifice elsewhere. It meant pretty much only having enough money to pay for fuel and little else, meaning my only source of entertainment was to simply ride. A bikers life.

    A bikers life; man how could one explain such a life when so much controversy is involved between defining a "motorcycle enthusiast" from a "biker"? Well, I wish it were as simple as to say that just throwing a leg over two wheels makes one a biker, but I can't say I believe that. See I grew up country, cowboy through and through. My father was a horse farrier and my mother was a horse trainer (she'd say people trainer) for the better part of 20 years. I grew up with wranglers, white and plaid western shirts, shit kickers and a cowboy hat. My mornings were scented with the graceful stench of horse shit, not burned rubber and motor oil. So how the hell do I know what it means to be a biker? 

    I'd like to take a look at this question from a different angle. Who am I to know what makes a real cowboy from the yuppie? Anybody can throw on a pair of wranglers, cowboy hat and shit kickers, throw a leg over a horse and be a cowboy; right? Well, I guess anyone can do those things, but to be a cowboy one would not be. See, riding a horse takes more than just the ability to hop on or dress the part. It takes knowing to squeeze instead of kick, it takes knowing that steady pressure trumps trying to yank the animal around. Being a cowboy means your up at the crack of dawn throwing hay and shoveling shit, it means getting bored and hopping on your horse bareback, laying down and taking a nap or going for a ride, trusting the animal won't take off with you (which sometimes happens!). It takes knowing how to clean their hooves and trim their feet, being a cowboy requires a full devotion of your life. Not just owning the horse and attire, and hopping on for a short ride on the weekends.

Me riding my old horse Spec

    The same is applicable to the biker. You can own all the leather you think need be required, hell own a leather pair of socks if you have to! You can own that $10,000-50,000 Harley Davidson even, but that won't make you any more a biker. Yes, you love motorcycles and you enjoy every minute of the road you actually get to enjoy, and that's respectable.

    A biker is one who devotes his entire life to his love of motorcycles. Think of it as a marriage, because you'll hear more stories than you'd think of a biker leaving his woman and taking nothing but his motorcycle in the end (ok ok, she probably left him). It keeps us breathing, and no doubt keeps others breathing too if you know what I mean.

    A biker knows that his bike brings such joy and life to his world that without it he would loose a part of himself, just like a good woman. And its not just the material reality of the bike itself, but everything that comes with it. The smell of freshly moist grass in the morning sun as you take a morning scoot, the sun beaming just over the horizon as it wakes for the day. Its riding 2,100 miles in three days for a family reunion or sleeping in on the forest floor under a tarp because you can't afford a motel. Its packing a couple cans of spaghettios for $0.99 a can at the grocery store to last you the trip. Its packing only one set of cloths to save on load. Its having to carry your tools and a few quarts of oil in preparation for unfortunate circumstance and its a long conversation with some old raggedy ass biker that saw you sitting in the shade at the gas station.

    I'm a biker in training and life is my teacher. I foolishly left my job and now my life wreaks of the stereotypical old-school stories of a good for nothing biker (cowboy) bum and his dog living out of his girlfriends bed as she picks up the slack in his down time, Harley Davidson sitting in the parking lot, view able from the apartment at all times. The stay at home "step-dad-like" figure struggling to make money while educating a 5 year old in manners and knowledge while ensuring the house doesn't get jacked up throughout the day. Swapping motorcycle details for parts and labor, and if there's any time, maybe get in a few details gigs for extra cash to help out where he can.

    I don't have much leather, in fact only a leather vest sporting a 3 piece "Born Free American" cut, and a pair of old worn out brown suede chaps good for little more than blocking the wind. Leathers a rich mans game. I sport an old military style OD green cap everywhere I go and a pair of square toed shit kickers to cover my feet. I ride year round both voluntarily and involuntarily through the rain, snow, sleet, ice and shine simply because its what has to be done when there are no other options. But I can honestly say, I'm getting used to it. Once you do it long enough, you don't seem to notice the searing pain shooting through your hands after having rode 60 miles through 8 degree weather and a -35 degree wind chill, or the ice frozen to your beard. You no longer notice the shot gun blast of a pouring rain at 70 mph or the feel of the pavement on your side as your rear tire loose its tread to the ice. It becomes almost second nature, push the bar out into the fall, clear the leg, hang on till you quit sliding, pick it up and keep on rolling. 

    One could scan any biker page online and see thousands of bikers accusing another of posing to be something he's not. I sit back and shake my head at times because if there's one thing I've come to know it's that no matter how experienced I think I am, there is always someone out there more beat up, broken-hearted, and financially ruined; whose beard drags by his ankles and his eyes twinkle with kindness and humility through his old wrinkly face.

    There are only three determining factors to know whether you're dealing with a real "biker". Does his bike consume his entire life, does he live in respect for those who respect him, and does he live a life of humility? These are the three golden rules of a "bikers" life. 

    There is no shame in being an enthusiast, because any true biker understands that the thrill of a motorcycle can be appealing to anyone brave enough to give it a try. But only a select few will be so consumed with the love, life, and liberation of their motorcycle that it shapes their very identity, their very being. When you see a true biker, there is no doubt in your mind as you look at him that he is the real deal. As the rodeo cowboy walks out of the arena covered in dirt and manure after being thrown off a 1000 lb. animal, or rides in from the sunset after a days long cattle drive, so does the biker who throws a leg over his iron horse and rides into the distance.

MLH&R
Ziptie

Dads 05' Road King, my 2015 Street Bob

Born Free Americans (The 1%)

    You're driving in your car on your way back from work one day and you happen to glance into your rear view mirror and see a string of motorcycles creeping up on you. You don't think much about it until they begin to pass you. Its at that point you're intrigued by the unity of these bikers as they ride side by side in passing; you notice that most of them are wearing vests all with the same 3 piece emblem reading their club name with a scary looking emblem in the middle. 1%ers or "Outlaw Bikers" as the government and media has portrayed these kinds of riders are not exactly what you've been lead to believe. Lets take a look at the history of these terms and how they come to be.

   In the 1920's the AMA (American Motorcycle Association) began giving awards for "best dressed" motorcycle club. As a result, clubs began making "patches" that identified their groups and allowed for an artistic reflection for each club while giving a unique touch and identification as well as a competitive creative edge. In 1947 a club by the name of Booze Fighters had a member that made news headlines in a negative manner that gained such national recognition that a movie titled "The Wild Ones" was even inspired. In response, the AMA released a statement saying “99% of all of their members are law-abiding citizens and only 1% are “outlaw”. 

   Now if you've never seen the movie, its worth a watch as it's a solid timeless entertaining classic; but that's just it, entertainment. The problem with entertainment is that all to often, more times than not, society perceives Hollywood fiction as social reality. In today's modern times, Hollywood productions such as "Sons of Anarchy" negatively influence and represent the biker culture the way that "The Wild Ones" did back in 47' only to a much more violent and schizophrenic manner, and I use schizophrenic to every extent of the word. I would like to take a moment to discuss the truth about the real 1%ers out there.

   After the AMA released their statement in 1947 they no longer allowed these so called "Outlaw" clubs to be associated with their organization, basically any club with a 3 piece insignia. The only determining factor as to which clubs were considered to be "Outlaw" or not was that of the governments prejudices formed solely from single individuals and incidents like the one in 1947 with the Booze Fighters member and included very little proven fact. As a result, these clubs, now demonized by the government and the AMA based entirely off of a Hollywood production decided to proudly claim to be 1% as a joke regarding the AMA's statement. 

    The 1% diamond (seen above) was created as a badge of pride and competence. It represented an individual not foolish enough to place judgement against others based on media, government, or any other 3rd person opinion or perspective simply because they spoke their perceptions as truth. Over time, the 1% diamond became the golden standard to represent any individual that chooses to live outside of social manipulation, maintaining the bare bone basics of human nature. In saying that, I'll explain that point by stating this; "I care not about what others think of you, my opinion of you as an individual will be determined solely on how you treat me and those around me" quoting myself in something I share regularly with those I meet, the mindset of every true 1%er in the world.

    You might be thinking at this point that I am somehow bias to 1% clubs so I'll fill you in on a little secret. I belong to no club, and hold no association. I am a nomad who prefers to be alone and

do my own thing; and I have many friends on both sides of the 1% and 99%  richter scale of motorcycle riders all over the country. I am the Born Free American, I am the 1%.

    If you'd of asked me some time ago if just anyone could fly the diamond I'd of laughed in your face. But the more I thought about it over the years I came to this conclusion. You don't need to hold a club patch to be 1%, you just have to stand for what you believe in without needing the approval of others. You have to live a life of integrity and respect for others. You have to believe in the American Dream founded entirely upon the United States Constitution. You have to believe in your rights as an American undiluted by regulation and social oppression. This might sound intense, but I'm talking about the same people who get together with family for a Sunday evening cook out; the same people with little children and people they love tenderheartedly. We're not criminals, we're just people with something to stand for. A true 1%er will stand up against any Government or thug 1% hot head out there who makes demands with disrespect or attempts to dictate their life. 

    Its time to address the "trouble makers" and your questions regarding the documented violence concerning 1%ers around the world. 

    Have you ever woke up in the morning and turned on the news? Maybe you hear about a couple celebrities getting hitched, a flood in the south east, or maybe there was another horrific shooting at some college campus. Take a moment to notice that there is rarely ever any sort of good news shared in the media. News and social hype networks are designed to gain attention through using human natures need for suspense by "shock and awe" manipulation.

    The only time you'll ever hear about bikers on the media, is if something bad has happened (Waco Shooting 2015). Very very seldom will you ever hear about clubs standing in line for 5 days to buy out a superstores entire supply of bicycles to give away to family's with children who couldn't afford one; or the veteran memorial runs and other positive light associated monthly with clubs around the world. Instead you'll hear headliners like "motorcycle gang shooting" or "biker brutality"; shame.

Above Right: Me with my B.F.A cut
Above: Me and my boy

    I'd like you to take a moment and visualize a character. Joe Sumbuddy, a popular jock in high school. He's captain of the football team and stacked like a tank. Everybody knows his name and what he's capable of. Naturally most people love him while a select few hate him, whether it be for his social status or his physical reputation. It never ceases to be that some underdog who's not as socially recognized or has a chip on his shoulder that chooses to challenge Joe Sumbuddy to fight in the school yard during break or jumps him in the locker room . I'd like you to ask yourself one simple question, should Joe stand there and allow someone to assault him, simply because of who he is or what he's achieved, or should he defend himself? Naturally the latter is the option of choice to anyone who appreciates not being harmed, and Joe Sumbuddy comes out on top while the assailant lays on the ground with black and blue bruises all over his face with blood coming from his teeth. Is the jock now a bad person for defending himself? That is a rhetorical question because your "opinion" doesn't matter,  the natural definite answer is "no" he is not a bad person for defending himself.

Now does that scenario change if you replace the jock with a motorcycle club member wearing a 3 piece patch? Does wearing a leather jacket with your association stitched on back some how grant you mystical "evil" powers? Can you not see the nonsense in all this? The jock could be a biker, a toddler in grade school, a stripper from the club or an officer of the law and reality's mechanics would remain the same. Self defense does not make you a bad person, and people do regularly get attacked for reasons that make absolutely no logical sense, biker or not.

    The above concept applies to the 1% and that's why I chose to use it. Everybody knows who they are and everybody's heard the reputation they've been saddled with involuntarily. Its only natural that both solo tough guys and groups alike would seek to challenge the "baddest" dog in the house. While that "bad" dog just wants to be left alone. Can you really expect some well known 1% club member to just stand idle while some dude comes at him with a knife or pulls a gun on him? They didn't go looking for trouble, trouble sought them out for the sake of making a name for themselves. These 1%ers are not always "bad guys", but simply willing to defend themselves. I mean really ask yourself "what would I do?". 

    Am I so foolish as to say that there are no genuine "bad guys" out there in the MC world? Absolutely not! I'd say 1% of the 1% bikers are genuine "bad guys", the arrogant and ruthless. But that truth is applicable in every aspect of life. There are bad bikers, there are bad football players, there are bad bartenders and bad teachers; there are bad college students and there are bad cowboys and cops, bad doctors and bad lawyers. Evil can have any face, so why is it that when bad people wear the identity of a social group then suddenly the entire group is held accountable? Even I as an independent dissociated biker gets treated poorly on a regular basis simply because people see that I wear a 3 piece insignia and automatically assume I'm a "criminal". Insanity! I've had two speeding tickets in my entire life, one seat belt violation and the most serious offense on my record is a possession of marijuana charge when I was 21 and any logical thinking human being would conclude that the severity of that so called "offense" is minimal at most.  

    Anybody can be a killer, anybody can be a rapist or an assailant of any kind and its been proven time and time again throughout all of history. Catholic Priests have raped and molested children (Wikipedia's Archives), a cop cuffs, and rapes 19 year old woman during a traffic stop (Daily News True Story); corrupt LEO's involved with drug rings (Cop Block True Story);  doctors have lied to make profit (CNN True Story), and the neighbor kid down  the street butchered his parents with a hammer and then held a party downstairs afterwards (ABC News True Story). So can you honestly look me in the eyes and tell me that because someone wears a 1% patch that they're dangerous criminals? Don't be foolish.
   
    You may be thinking to yourself "Well I'm not a biker, or a club member, so I don't get any trouble". When the truth is that if you don't have these problems, its not because you're not a biker or a club member, its because you don't stand or fight for anything. If someone were to hold you up, you'd hand over your social security card, your debit and credit cards, all of your cash, your drivers license, your keys, your wife's wedding ring, and the cloths off your back. The 1% don't believe in submission to anyone. We believe through and through that mankind comes with inalienable rights,

the rights that come with ones mere existence. Defend yourself, and your natural rights. Even those of us who stand up for ourselves and what we believe in, and for those we love, rarely encounter "trouble". It's a rare occasion that the media has amplified hundred fold so that society would believe that it is somehow a daily occurrence. The only place I've ever found that holds that kind of trouble on virtually a daily basis is the pub & bars. But brawls, stabbings and shootings that happen at the bar don't magically happen exclusively between "bikers". The people getting arrested range from girlfriend and ex girlfriend bumping into each other and having it out, to some dude making fun of the homosexual down the way and it turns out the faggot could fight. People who cause trouble have no genuine label or image other than "human trouble maker" regardless of attire or lifestyle.

    If its not yours, you can't have it unless I gift it to you. If you wish to harm me or my family or that gas station clerk for the cash in his register, or maybe that teacher that pissed you off in psychology class, we'll beat you to the punch and take you out first if we're able. You might say that "two wrongs don't make a right" but I say none of that matters if you're robbed of everything you've worked for or don't live to see tomorrow, or loose the right to be human. You have to do what you have to do in order to survive in life. That means work hard, play hard, and respect all who respect you. Respect doesn't mean you like the person, it just means you accept that they are their own which makes no difference to you.

    If you're a submissive individual  like 99% of society today, you simply have no struggles in life beyond going to work, making your coin, feeding your family, worrying about petty things that happen to everybody e.g. a death in the family, a relationship failure, or maybe you got fired, and  then you wake up in the morning to repeat it all over again. But when you stand for something, you make enemies, you offend people. Whether its the civilian down the street, the cyber tough guy  with an ego trip or some federal agency that realizes a group of individuals have enough power to maintain  and ensure their constitutional freedom independently instead of being regulated and dominated so heavily that Freedom becomes a mythical thing no different than being able to trust a politicians every word. Just because you think you're free, or feel like you're free, doesn't mean that you are. With true Constitutional freedom comes severe discrimination, biker or not. 1% or 99% doesn't describe a biker, it describes the human race. 1% of mankind is willing to stand up for their undeniable rights of existence while 99% live in submission, content with their oppression.


    The idea of freedom is a simple concept. If I'm not hurting someone, or infringing upon someone elses rights, I'm free to do whatever I please; Constitutionally speaking that is. Thanks to "SoA" for destroying the true meaning of Anarchist, being an absence of government and absolute freedom of the individual, regarded as a political ideal. The Constitution was designed by Anarchists in a way that acknowledged the inalienable rights of each individuals existence. Our founding fathers understood that one person or group of people no matter how large or small cannot dictate how another lives their life without using tyrannical force; a common daily practice of your modern day government. Tyrannical by definition being oppressive and controlling.

    Somewhere along the line between media and government manipulation, people have been confused between Freedom and comfortable slavery. They figure if they can go about their daily lives without encountering trouble or discomfort, that they're somehow "free". But truth is that when you can't spend you're hard earned dollars in any way you please, or the fact you only get 30% of that which you earn; you are no longer free. Add in that you can't speak your mind freely without censorship, or being denied the right to defend yourself; the 1st and 2nd Amendments of the United States Constitution become nothing but an illusion and you've arrived at your doorstep chained, gagged, and defenseless as a "free slave". When the world believes that hurt feelings and offense through opposing views and opinions, dominates an individuals or group of individuals rights, we've truly lost our way. Do yourself a favor and read up on your rights as an American  given to you by the 33 Amendments of the United States Constitution so that you might realize what Freedom really means, you can do so by clicking (HERE)

    We respect your right to live your life as you choose, no matter how reckless that may be, and we expect the same in return even if it offends you. If we see someone making bad choices, we acknowledge that its not our place to barge in and begin dictating their lives "for their own good" and enforcing change and action. We care enough to put in a good word of encouragement and support constantly and consistently, but if that doesn't help then there is nothing more we can do. It is the right of the individual to live their life as they best see fit; even if it costs them.

    After having read this, it is my hope that you click away having learned something. Not simply about bikers and the politics of a clubs patch, but instead I hope you had a revelation about what it truly means to live and be free. Its my hope that after reading this, you too will stand for something. Because 41,892,128 people have died in combat in the name of the American Dream and the Freedom it stands for since the American Revolution in 1775. That's 41.9 million lives sacrificed so that you can live a life that you believe in without needing the approval of others. I'll finish this lesson with a simple question.

How much longer will you be controlled? Be the REAL 1%
MLH&R
Ziptie

Diversity