Six chapters, two hundred and forty-five years, and one rule that matters. We ride the graveyard shift so that nobody has to ride it alone.
Bylaws · unchanged since 1781
Every chapter reads these aloud before the first ride of the month. It takes about ninety seconds and nobody has ever asked to shorten it.
Not for a flat, not for a fight, not for anything they said to you last week. You stop, and you stay until they roll.
People have enough to deal with on the 10 without watching something impossible pass them in the fast lane.
If what you did was worth doing, somebody else will say so. Probably not to you, and probably not this year.
The back of the pack is where you learn the road, the hand signals, and who brakes late. It has never been a punishment.
Before the helmet, before the gloves. You are not off duty because you are tired.
Three in the morning is the whole job. Anyone can ride at noon.
Chapters · Los Angeles County
Territory is drawn by road, not by city line. If two chapters both reach you, both come.
112 riders patched · 0 clubhouses · 0 phone numbers
Colors
Prospects wear the bottom rocker and nothing else — no top rocker, no center piece. You earn the rest of it by showing up, which is harder than it sounds.
Prospecting runs a year and there is nothing to fill in. Ride at the back long enough and someone will find you.
Dispatch log · last night
Posted every morning at the Mother Chapter. It is almost never interesting, which is the point.
Kid on a Ninja 400 out of fuel on the 47 approach. Walked him a can up from Front St. He'll pay it back to somebody.
Silver Corolla, dead battery, northbound shoulder past the Getty. Jumped it, then rode behind her to the Sunset exit.
Coyote standing in the roadway at mile 27. Walked it off the asphalt with high beams. It was in no hurry.
Shop door left unlocked on 4th. Woke the owner. He was not pleased about it. It's locked now.
Wind took a mattress off a flatbed on the 138. Two of us moved it into the ditch. Nobody saw and nobody needed to.
Last bus long gone at Vermont and Franklin. Gave a ride down to the station. Helmet is still ours, technically.
Sun up. Stood down.