| In Memory of Our Fallen Brothers and Sisters |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |  |  |
The Last Biker
Author Unknown
The old ones stand out now,
their numbers dwindling down.
They're a sad loss to the American
scene, these individualists with the
worn down clothes and faces.
You can still see them sometimes,
the real ones, some in packs, not as
large as a while ago, sometimes alone.
The alone one is the best.
One who's been there a long time,
staying in the life he loves, never
giving into a system that sucks you up like a
vortex if you slip just one foot into it. He's got
his connections - a few like him that care for
and protect each other. Hanging onto the
only unique lifestyle left, like old dinosaurs,
their faces are leathered and rough by forty,
but their eyes still sharp and knowing.
Some are gray in the beards and braids,
some are limp in the step and some pain in
the kidneys. Still they know that no other life
is life, but merely a dreary journey into
everyone else's monotony. He looks at the
new ones, then turns away, knowing they will
never know of life on the road and of the
women who can take it. Wild, loving women
who'll hang in with them, because they love
it too. A woman with a wild heart and a loyal
soul, that's what's needed here.
The new ones are shiny and young and a
bit too clean. They're born into a system
that has an iron grip now. The new one's will
never know and couldn't take "the life."
I think it's a mystery, even to the old ones,
why this life is theirs, but it is, and it's the
only one.
When the last biker falls, like the dinosaurs,
the sun will go down on a breed of
heart-of-gold, tough as nails, free spirited
men, who even at their worst, love what's
theirs and protect it. In a world-wide system
that is making all people as alike as
manufactured dolls, the earth will be a duller
place....
When the last biker falls.
| Big Jim |
| Bob Cox |
| Jeff "Hi-Tower" Smith |
| Trudy Rosen |
| Uncle Don |