Chicago Toy's for Tots '14
What the hell's the matter with these people? It's in the 30's not including wind chill? The answer is motorcycles are our lives. Rain wind or shine, we don't give a baker's fuck what the weathers like. If the bike's runnin', we're riding. Of course, there is always gonna be dripping noses and frozen fingertips, but if you can't roll with it keep your candy ass at home. It's the Toys for Tots ride.
All jaw jockin' aside. Look at the mug on this guy (look up). Yeah, he may not look like your first choice amongst Chicago's top babysitters but believe me, he's here for the kids. That's exactly what got us all out last Sunday morning. The bourbon, beer and bikes didn't hurt the cause nor did the city allowing these exhaust suckin' freaks to rip through every red light on Western Avenue from one end of the city to the other.
For most of my brothers and I the morning started off at our clubhouse on the city's northwest side. At eight in the morning on a Sunday in December, we were a little chilly but even worse, thirsty. A couple of beers to warm the 50 weight runnin' through our veins and we were ready to hit it. Bungeed teddy bears with yo yo's and candy canes for stocking stuffers; we kicked over the sleds and headed down to the Water Hole Lounge on the city's south side. If you come here after dark without a second clip of rounds, you'll be sorry.
This guy would have been photo worthy with the red baron's hat and goggles alone but he also had a nose that most lonely women would pay extra to have their male gigolo's possess. For that reason, we gave him a special place in the pages of Chopper Chronicles.
Left to right- Tommy Pickles, Blind Adam, Jimmy Fangers, Jimmy Zee
Gathering up the boys and disobeying all social norms, we broke off the pack to one of the club's local hangout spots, Lockdown Bar & Grill on Western and Cortez. The place has it's roots in the Ukrainian Village and also attracts some unique individuals just like ourselves, so of course we like to make an appearance on such an occasion.
Walking through the front door of this bar filled with misfits and outcasts, you'll ordinarily be greeted by the sounds most commonly recognized from behind the bedroom door of an angry pimply faced teen in the 90's. Blasting everything from Cannibal Corpse to Sound Garden, while satisfying your hunger with the best burgers north of Madison Street and drinks stiff enough that'll put David Hasselhoff back on the front pages of the tabloids with his home shot YouTube videos.
We split out of Lockdown and jammed our greasy clique of brothers a little further north to the Toys for Tots drop off point to give the little kiddies something rad to put under their Christmas trees. This club is an authentic union of bikers, beer drinkers and hell raisers but all the members believe in being involved with rides that are put on for a purpose beyond ourselves; helping out the less fortunate kids of Chicago.
Back at the clubhouse the boys get in on the normal shit talkin' and beer drinkin' followed by the occasional whiskey back. Around the clubhouse you'll see a collage of relics, previously purposed as Harley Davidson components, spread neatly about the space and stockpiled for upcoming builds or answers to future breakdowns.
For now the brothers are out of the public eye and back into the motorcycle underworld of Chicago, keeping their ear to the grindstone for any trouble that is around the corner. Something tells me these guys can handle whatever this unforgiving city can throw at them.
GGFFGG
