Back in August, 2008 I took one more last long motorcycle ride. This time from our summer home at lake Wappapello, Missouri (where Pat Q and I spent the summer) to our monthly meeting in Fort Worth, then to Waco to visit my daughter Dana & husband and then on down to Cleveland,

Texas (near Houston) to attend Boozefighters chapter 58’s party. And then the 825 miles back. WOW what a party!

They had a BBQ benifit at the VFW and then moved back to their clubhouse. There was a big turn out to include folks from many other Texas chapters and one local friendly MC.

I was given a tour of their near-by athletic center, which included a boxing ring. They explained that one main objective of it was to invite local kids to come there and learn the skills of boxing. In the process they learned discipline and a competitive sport. Helps keep them out of gangs and off the streets they said. Some of those young men have gone on to compete in the GOLDEN GLOVES where a few did pretty well.

Some time after dark a bunch of us caravanned to a local nightclub where we continued to party. It was rewarding to see how well the Boozefighters were welcomed there. An obvious sign that they had established a good reputation in that town. As a matter of fact a couple of ladies at a near table motioned for me to join them, and I did. They were curious to know more about our club. How did they know I was the Historian? I wondered. Or maybe it was because I was old and innocent looking???

As usual I took delight in explaining how the BFMC started in 1946 by a bunch of WWII GI’s and that ever since the beginning we were into it just for the fun. No criminal behavior tolerated and no territory claimed, I further explained. Then one girl turned to me and stated. “I’ve seen a lot of your members around before and they were always different than most clubs. You’re folks are always smiling, laughing, and polite. When you all walked in tonight I told my friend…”now there is going to be a PARTY here tonight because it always is when the Boozefighters show up. And that she needs not worry about you all starting any trouble because ya’ll never did.”

Around midnight or so many of us had returned to the motel. I was setting in front of my room finishing off one last cocktail when I heard lots of laughter coming my way. Then I saw the source of the commotion. Three Boozettes approached carrying a chicken and asked…JQ do you know how to fix a chicken dinner? We’re hungry! (They had been going room to room pull’n that prank).

Where’d you crazy gals get that hen? I asked. Oh there is a truck out in the parking lot full of them. We didn’t figure they’d miss just one. I did remember seeing the truck and it was packed full of hens. Did ya’ll latch the gate on it when you barrowed that one? They just looked at each other with that puzzled duh expression. Oh no I thought…I can see us in the morning scattered out all over the parking lot and near-by neighborhood helping that poor ole chicken farmer catch his birds. Or the headlines in the local paper:

Man it’s getting where ya can’t hardly take them Boozettes anywhere without them getting into some kind of mischief (Ha)…JQ