Roll Me Away: A Smokey's Roadhouse Novel

“
C
ome on
, Cricket. It’ll be fun! And who knows where you’ll be next year, now you’ve graduated. One last family vacation, while we’re still all together.”

Dad’s wheedling made it sound like the family was breaking up. Nothing was further from the truth. My solid, Midwestern family was intact, with Mom and Dad still married after twenty-four years together. My brother and sister were still in high school, though Egghead would be a senior this school year and Sissy would be a sophomore. I was the one about to fly from the nest, though I had no plans to fly very far. With a shiny new degree in Health Care Administration, I could get a job anywhere in my hometown. Or slightly farther away.

Dad was trying to persuade me to take the rest of the summer off when I’d intended to spend August looking for a job within an hour or two of home. Mom and the teens were staring at me like it would break their hearts if I didn’t agree. Sighing, I gave in.

Secretly, I thought Dad might have lost his mind. Sturgis? The biggest motorcycle rally in the world? I didn’t know whether he was checking off a bucket list item or attempting to regain his lost youth. I did know that it wasn’t an entirely family-friendly affair. Maybe he was just regretting being born too late for Woodstock.

I couldn’t object to the plan, though, other than being there with my parents. The thought of a half million bikers, many my own age, gave me goose bumps. Going to college in LaCrosse had given me an appreciation for hot guys in leather with loud, fast motorcycles between their legs – not to mention whatever else they had there. How could I take advantage of that smorgasbord of man-flesh in Sturgis when I’d be sleeping in an RV with my parents and siblings?

I’d just have to figure it out. Maybe it was time to assert my independence. I loved my parents, and even my bratty brother and baby sister. While I wouldn’t want to hurt them, it was time they learned I was an adult. Just maybe not how
much
of an adult.

The end of July was a flurry of planning, and that’s when I learned just how crazy my dad really was. His plan was to drive us to Murdo, South Dakota, a couple of hours from Sturgis, and rent a Harley to ride on into town with us following in the RV. He’d been taking lessons, of all things, and had even gotten a motorcycle license from the DMV. All I could hope for was to be somewhere else when he inevitably embarrassed himself among all those seasoned bikers.

The icing on the cake was the last thing he revealed. He was actually a member of a motorcycle gang!

“Motorcycle club,” he corrected me, when I said that. “The Jackpine Gypsies. They have lots of out-of-state members. This is the seventy-fifth anniversary of Sturgis,” he explained. “It’s my time.”

He was poring over a book called ‘The Sturgis Rally Guidebook’ as he spoke and didn’t see when Mom and I caught each other’s eye and shook our heads. Later, I made my position clear to her.

“Mom, I’ll go on this crazy vacation with you. I’ll stick around with the family for races and stuff. But I’m going to music concerts by myself. I intend to have some fun, and that means no parents and no tag-alongs.”

“I understand, honey. But you’ll be careful, won’t you? Most of the people there will be just like us — tourists who are interested in the history of the event and motorcycle enthusiasts like your dad. But there will be outlaw bikers there, too. They’re dangerous, and I want you to stay away from them.”

Actually, those are the ones that interest me.
“Yes, Mom, I’ll be careful. Of course. You don’t need to worry about me.”
Yes, you do, but I’ll be damned if I’ll tell you that. What you don’t know won’t hurt you.

We set out on the first of August, intending to take the scenic route to Sturgis and get there on the opening day of the rally. It was a scene straight out of those stupid
Vacation
movies, with Dad enthusing over the family being together, Mom trying to get us all to sing road songs, and the brats pouting about leaving their friends behind for two weeks. I couldn’t wait to get there and meet some hot bikers.

“
Z
ach
, I hear you’re a decent mechanic.” The grizzled old biker hadn’t said more than a few words to me in all the times I’d seen him here at my stepdad’s bike shop. Did his attention now mean the last encounter I’d had with some of the younger members of his club had paid off? I liked to think I hadn’t been too eager, but I’d let them know I was interested in joining.

“Yes, sir. I mean, I think I am. My stepdad could tell you.”

“He did. I also hear you might be interested in joining my club.”

That was more direct than I’d expected. I stood up straighter. If this was the beginning of some kind of test, I wanted my size to even the odds. I nodded, once.

“Happens we need some new blood. You willin’ to quit here and come with me right now? You’d be a prospect. No privileges. Have to pass muster. Have to get yourself a ride in six months or less.”

“Yep.” I saw no need to explain myself. Fact was, my stepdad didn’t need me here, and maybe didn’t even want me here. He tolerated me because of my mom but wouldn’t miss me. And if things didn’t work out, he couldn’t exactly refuse to let me come home. It was Mom’s house.

He’d probably even give me my job back. I had almost enough for a used Harley I had my eye on. This was an opportunity I’d be a fool to let pass me by.

“Get your stuff together. I’ll have someone pick you up in the chase wagon in half an hour.”

“Yes, sir. You know where I live?”

His only answer was a withering glance as he revved the throttle and sped away. I guessed that was a yes.

“Carl, I’m outta here. Just got an invitation…”

My stepdad answered, “I know it. Tell your mom goodbye. I gave you a recommend for your mechanic work. Don’t make a liar of me.”

W
ords
of strong affection from the man I’d had an uneasy relationship with for the past six years. Truth was, I should’ve moved out when he moved in. At eighteen, I hadn’t liked it that my mom was shacked up with this guy, but he treated her okay. Better than my long-gone asshole of a father.

Carl gave me a job right off the bat, learning my trade. It was about the best I could’ve expected in Rawlins. Not much of a town, truth be known. Not much opportunity, especially if you didn’t have the money or grades to get out of town and go to college on a scholarship. At least I’d learned a skill that was going to get me out of there.

I got myself home quick as I could in an old rattletrap pickup that Carl let me drive. There wasn’t much to pack. A couple of changes of clothes, my boots, a picture of Mom and me when I was a kid, and my toothbrush and razor. Probably wouldn’t even need the razor. That was about it. Mom watched me, wringing her hands.

“Son, are you sure you want to get involved with them? I hear they’re running drugs. I wish you’d reconsider.”

“They aren’t running drugs. Jeez, Mom, don’t believe everything you hear.”

“Well, where do they even live? Not around here.”

“You know that bar, Smokey’s Roadhouse, halfway to Rock Springs? They own that, and they have a town somewhere around there, out in the sticks off the main road. It’s only an hour or so away, Mom. I’ll be back for visits.”

By the time the chase vehicle – a panel van with blacked-out windows in back – rolled up, she’d resigned herself to the fact I was going with or without her blessing. Before I went outside, I gave her a hug. “Now you and Carl can have the place to yourselves. I’ll stay in touch. It’ll be okay, you’ll see.”

She clung to me a minute, and said, “I hope so. You can always come home if it doesn’t work out.”

I knew that. But I truly did want it to work out. It would be like belonging to a family, not the uneasy truce of the past six years with Carl around, or the battleground in the years before that when my real dad was here, mostly drunk and knocking Mom around whenever he wanted. Proudest day of my life was when I was fifteen and ran him off with a shotgun I borrowed from my best friend in school. After that, it was tough financially, but at least Mom was safe. I could leave her in good hands with Carl. I didn’t like him much, but he treated her right.

“
I
get
what you’re saying, Rooster, but somebody has to stay here. We cain’t all go, and I’m not sure I’m up to a trip that long anyway. Me and Sylvie will stay here and hold down the fort. You’re in charge of the club on the road.”

“I hate to leave you by yerself, Smokey,” he replied. “What if…”

He trailed off. There wasn’t nothin’ left to say, ‘cause the only danger out here for me would come from his boy, Jake, and the four other club members who’d resigned a few weeks ago. Neither one of us believed Jake would do anything on his own. Trouble was, he was playin’ with fire, cozyin’ up to a drug cartel to offer ‘em ‘protection’ on their runs through here, or some nonsense. Way I saw it, he was likely to get hisself killed, along with his crew, more’n givin’ me any trouble.

‘Course, if he did get in with that cartel, then there might be danger. I didn’t see it happenin’ in the next few weeks, though. Worst thing I saw was them boys had been our actors in the other business. Nobody wanted to see a bunch of old Vietnam vets in a skin flick with purty young girls. Filmin’ was stopped until we recruited us some new blood. Or until them fool kids come back, beggin’ to be let back into the club.

Which brung us back to the reason we was considering goin’ to Sturgis as a full club, ‘cept for me and my old lady. To recruit new blood, and make a little money like we usually did there. I only hoped Sarge’s old lady could recognize a good-lookin’ young stud when she saw one.

Rooster’s old lady took off years ago, leavin’ him to raise Jake by hisself, and look what come o’ that. Jake and the others leavin’ meant we was down to a few originals and our half-grown kids, plus mebbe half a dozen or so of our older kids, and they had kids of their own. But they’d go along with what we decided, Rooster, the VP, Sarge – the sergeant-at-arms – and me, the President. The other originals always backed us up.

“It’s decided then. Y’all are goin’ to Sturgis with all members ‘cept me. I’ll stay here and keep the bar runnin’. All in favor?”

We probly should’ve waited ‘til Sarge was there to vote, but he had business in town, and we knew he wanted to go anyway. The vote was unanimous otherwise. I adjourned the meeting and joined my best pal Rooster for a beer.

“What’d you say Sarge was doin’?” he asked.

“Makin’ arrangements for after.”

“After Sturgis? What arrangements?”

I give him a look. He had a lot on his mind, his boy goin’ rogue and all, but he knowed what I meant. I didn’t need to say it out loud, and didn’t want to.

“Oh,” he said.

The front door opened, and speak o’ the devil, Sarge come in with a kid I sorta thought I’d seen before. He brung the kid over and introduced us.

“I missed the meeting, didn’t I?” he asked.

“Yep. Sorry. Did you have business for it?”

“Nothing that can’t wait. This kid would like to join. He’s Carl’s stepson. Thought I’d give the club a chance to vote, is all.”

“Most of ‘em are still here. We’ve probly got a quorum. Want me to reconvene?”

“Sure. Sooner we get him read in, the better for planning.” He cocked one eyebrow at me, and I knew he’d found what he’d gone lookin’ for.

“You old enough for a beer, son?”

The kid smiled. “Yes, sir.”

I pegged him in his mid-twenties. He wasn’t no biker, but he had a look that would get the Bunnies excited, and we could use him with Jake and the others gone. “Tell Sylvie at the bar I said give you a draft. We’ll call you when we’re ready.”

“Yes, sir,” he said. Good kid.

“Y’all come on back to the meetin’ room. We got another piece of business,” I hollered. Members started headin’ that way.

“He’s gonna be a good prospect in more ways than one,” Sarge said.

“Oh, yeah?”

“I’ll save it for the vote, no need to tell it twice,” he answered.

We took our places at the table, and I gaveled the meetin’ back to order and give Sarge the floor.

“We have a new prospect, if you all agree,” he said. “Kid’s a competent mechanic. Smokey and Rooster have seen him up close, and I think they’ll agree he’ll be able to light up the girls for the videos.

“His stepdad told me he ran his own daddy off to keep him from beating up his mom, and at fifteen, he wasn’t afraid to point a shotgun at his old man. You all know our business with the stepdad. I think he’ll be a good asset.”

“How is he at followin’ orders?” someone asked.

“He’s quiet, doesn’t say much. What he does say a lot is ‘yes, sir’. I think he’ll do.”

“Move we vote,” come from one of the other originals.

“Second,” called out someone else.

“All in favor of readin’ Zach Hayes in as a prospect, no privileges, on probation until he gets a ride and proves hisself loyal to the club, say aye.”

There were no nays when I called for ‘em. Sarge went to get the kid so’s we could read him in.

“Zachary Hayes, do you solemnly swear to uphold the bylaws of this here club, be loyal as a brother to the other members, and never snitch to nobody outside the club?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hank’ll take you over to the bunkhouse in a while and let you know the bylaws. If you pass your probation period, you’ll be a full-fledged member of the Wyomin’ Dust Devils, with all the rights and privileges we share. That includes a share of revenues in our businesses, a place to live and call yer own, and the love and friendship of these here brothers. Glad to have you prospectin’ with us, son.”

The boy seemed a bit overwhelmed, but by the time Hank took him under his wing and left the roadhouse with him, he was feelin’ right good. Even though he didn’t yet have the privilege, we’d stood him a few beers, and one-a the Bunnies had took a shine to him. His bed would be extra warm that night, if no one else claimed her. Prospects got last pick, of course.

It was good to have a respectful kid his age in the club again, or on his way, anyhow. Jake and his crew was sorely missed. They was the best riders, these days. Single, in their mid-twenties to early thirties, they was fearless on the roads, and they had the most experience with our on-agin, off-agin business. The one we used Zach’s stepdad’s shop for.

I had a feelin’ Sarge already had a loyalty challenge in mind for him. If he passed that one, he’d be in as soon as he got his ride and the probation time was up.

Then we could let him in on some of the fun of our main business. If he had the right build for it. Judgin’ from his big body, he probly did, but one thing I learned in the Army – not everyone was packin’ a dick that matched their size, one way or the other.

That was the main asset Jake brung to the table, or the bed. He was hung like a horse. We’d have to see about this boy.