Oddly, this is exactly what the modern Boozefighters
look like. Gotta love their motto, "A drinking club with a
Two experiences come to mind. My visit to a biker clubhouse and my more recent visit to a Cinco de Mayo Party in Pollack Pines.
I know what you're thinking, "They celebrate Mexican drunk fest in hill country?" I'll get to that but first, yes I voluntarily went to a biker clubhouse.
It all started with a visit to my local pub the Tallac Lounge. I was there with a platonic female friend and we had made two lady friends. The four of us had also been chatting with three or four biker dudes wearing leather "Boozefighters" jackets. They seemed cool enough. No one seemed to be on meth and no meth was offered for sale. So at 1 a.m. when the bar closed (they have to close early because of the shooting) the Boozefighters invite the girls to come back to their clubhouse. After some considerable contemplation I agree to drive.
I've done stupid things before and how often do you get invited back to a biker clubhouse. We follow the directions to a warehouse off a Power Inn and approach gate with a large tattooed man with a black leather jacket standing at the entrance. This must be that place.
I lower the window and tell him who invited us.
"The Boozefighters are the next gate," says the man in the Hells Angles jacket. Apparently this is the biker gang/club district. You probably could have found it by using the Bee's crime mapper and searched for reported rapes in industrial zones.
Inside the clubhouse is a long bar with a stripper pole mounted on it, a small office and bathroom and a large open area where they apparently work on bikes or other project like holiday displays. The stereo played much more hip hop and rap than I expected. It operates just like a fraternity, I suppose. New guys ran the bar and did the bitch work. I was on edge the entire night. I didn't want to get with any of these women, but I felt responsible for their safety.
The night ended harmlessly, but there was an "oh shit" moment when one of the men pulled a bully club from behind the bar and walked swiftly to the front door. There was no blood on it when he returned, apparently the neighbors wanted to barrow some sugar.