Wild and Unruly Thoughts: Biker Bars, Biker Nights, Stuck in the Realm of Sensual Immediacy: Part One


Biker bars – If you’re not a biker what images come to mind? If you are a biker what scenes are playing in your head? I plan to write some real descriptions of bars that I have been in.
Pick-up trucks and Harleys are parked out front. Cardboard sign on the door has scribbled on it that the credit and debit machines are broken so you have to have cash. It’s Friday night and there’s a special band playing so there’s a cover charge of 5 bucks. I know the band. They’re worth every cent. This is a beer and soft drinks only bar. Cans and bottles. Nothing on tap and nothing foreign. Boiled peanuts boiling on the counter. Smoking is allowed in this bar and people are, but it’s not stuffy. Neon and metal beer signs hang on the wall. There’s an old lit Miller Lite sign from the 1970’s. Taste’s great; Less Filling. Ancient air conditioning units frozen in time are growing out of the concrete block wall. The floor is wooden and you can feel the vibration from the band’s instruments coming up through the wood. It’s like being on a vertical magic fingers bed, if you can remember that far back. Innervating, your body tingles in unusual ways and places, which can be disconcerting! Overhead fans that look like large hamster wheels suck the frowsty air up centrifugally and throw it out the side. In the back some folks are shooting pool. In the center, in front of the band, people are sitting at side tables or up dancing. Regular clothes, some leather vests with a club name on them. Some women sport vests with Property of …. (club name) on the back, just in case sitting in a guy’s lap wasn’t enough of a hint for you. One white cowboy hat, one purple doo rag, the rest mostly baseball caps, or folks topless. Guy wears a tee shirt that says “Real men pray every day”. Others wear Harley shirts with dealership names on the back. Two guys with overalls on. One has his cap backwards, ready to rally.
Some folks are up dancing. One man, tall, bald, stiff stork legs shooting out of naval green shorts, has a white cotton polo shirt, his butt back, head arched forward like he’s doing a frenetic funky chicken or caught in a whirling St Vitus’ dance. He’s moving around, parallel play-wise, a slightly chubby woman with her black hair in a bun who’s shoeless and sporting peppermint striped socks. Two other women are up dancing, wearing tight blue jeans, with big belts and hot pink tops. One woman dancing by herself has her arms stretched out in front of her shoulder high and she’s shaking left and right like she using one of those old vibrating, jiggling, exercise belt machines. It’s a shimmy to put all others to shame.
I’ve come here with a friend and that makes it easier than being on my own. Plus, the place has a counter bar and lots of places to stand around so you can strike up a conversation with folks beside you. “Do you ride?” “What kind of bike?” “From around here?” The guy beside me pulled out his phone and showed me pictures he’d taken, not of his kids, which he has, but of his bikes. Proud papa.
The atmosphere is friendly, peaceful in places and frenetic the closer you are to the band, which is belting out fast rockabilly blues. The double bass player occasionally spins his bass as he plays. The thick rumble echoes through the room.
Folks are happy, excited, the dancers oblivious, frenetic and carefree. Friday night at the biker bar.

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