The south western area of America still has several wild motorcycle biker clubs. Some of us get together on Christmas eve and throw a wild party. That’s how we celebrate that renowned holiday. It’s just that we never fix up any large turkey dinner meal. That would make us feel just like we did when mommy cooked one for us. Most of us just want to forget what it felt like back then and never remember to forget how our mother used to discipline us all the time. Memories like that were thrown away when we got our first chopper. On one Christmas eve I got himself a good Christmas present.

On that evening the Rio Grande valley was having a horrible winter storm. There was no way I’d skip our Christmas eve party. It was being held at our club house in Albuquerque. The hail just got so bad a lot of cars stopped right on the Interstate. Most of them didn’t know how to drive through ice and snow. Watching them slide off to the side of the road could have scared me if I had even been drunk. It’s just that none of the other patch holders would miss this party no matter how hard it was to get there.  I don’t care if they have nicknamed me Billy the Kid. I’m the Gunfighters club safety officer. That means I’m the one who is always riding at the pack’s end. I watch for the President’s change lain arm signal and shift lane before all the others do. None of the other Gunfighters should ever think I’m too scared to ride my chopper anywhere desired. Who cares if the twenty five mile onto town is under attack from a hail storm. Yes in this case Billy the Kid was sober enough to out quick-draw some feisty ice.

When I made it to our clubhouse it didn’t really surprise me that there was a pseudo Christmas tree right in the living room. It made perfect sense because our president’s old lady, Martha, loves to have something out to decorate. It’s just that her old man never allows it to be a pine tree. It looked better this year because the dented oil tank last year didn’t shine as much. It also really helped cheer us all up because the chrome polish smelled fine. We didn’t have to smell as much grease and oil like we would have in our motorcycle sheds just to party down and raise some hell.