Play Dirty: Devil's Mustangs Mc
“I hear the rest of my crew start their machines up as the noise blazes into the orange and pink night. The leader from the front of the pack looks past his shoulder towards me as I touch my hand to my head, signaling it’s time to ride.
Our black motorcycles spread over two lanes of traffic as we drift past sitting cars heading home from their workweeks. I’m in my position in the back as the tail gunner, so it’s my job to make sure everyone is staying in line and manning the right position. Even during the daylight hours and in front of all these civilian nobodies, our club is at risk from attack from the Coyotes.
Since that night when the Coyotes attacked, everyone’s been on high alert. We’re riding tighter than ever before, traveling in packs of five or six and wearing our colors as proudly as ever. Normally, I do this Friday run myself, maybe bringing along one or two of the young guns and a couple of potential pledges to show them the ropes.
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