A Sunday Story – Just Because

Not really a Sunday Rant, but maybe it is. You decide. The Letter From The Gabbard Re-Education Camp, Somewhere in New Arizona, 2033 Hello Son, If things worked out right, you’re receiving this letter sometime near your 18th birthday. I’m sorry I haven’t been there for the last 5 years. I guess I just don’t take to “re-education”. It all started after Harris appointed Hilary as her vice president, then they suspended the bill of Rights under the “Emergency Proclamation” of ’26. Then they packed the courts, made up the rules as they went along, and took over America under the guise of “Safety and Security”. That’s when the new “living document, Constitution” was enacted. After that, they didn’t even bother to try and hide their actions by ’29. Then the “Safety Laws” began to be issued directly by the President (for Life). I’m sure your Mother, a saint God bless her, has shown you your first birthday present. It is my 2016 Harley Davidson with a 103 cubic inch engine. It has been converted to a points and condenser, and single fire ignition system so it can’t be disabled by the ABTF e.m.p. projectors. I’m sure you’re aware it is in violation of the ’24 “Green Engine” act and the “Engine Limitation” law of ’26 that restricted all non-electric motorcycle engines to 250 cc’s. That was what put H-D out of business. That’s also when the Center for Homeland Security and Safety formed the Anti-Biker Task Force and began to hunt us all down. Mom has already introduced you Slick, Big Time, and the other White Line Runers M/C that are still in the country, and not in re-education like me. I can count on them teaching you how to ride, wrench, and avoid the BATF goons. She has also given you the second gift. Those are a pair of matched Colt Commander .45 acp pistols. They were made long before the anti-gun laws of ’25 and the confiscations and re-education’s of ’29. They were hand engraved and “tuned” by Bent Leg Freddy who used to ride with us. You know, Freddy was sent to re-education same time as me, but nobody ever heard from him again. Some say he escaped to Mexico, others say he was “disappeared” for, well whatever reason they needed. Happens a lot in those Cali-Ore camps. The grips were made from a Rocky Mountain Big Horn sheep. They were made by Dave Halperet, the one I used to call your Uncle Gunner, from a sheep he shot, before hunting was ruled illegal. He carved and mounted those grips just before he tried to run to Mexico in ’29. Gunner’s bike could fly like the wind, but it couldn’t outrun the ABTF attack drone they used to blast him into the landscape. I’ve always missed ol’ Gunner. The holsters were made by a Brother we all called Leathers. He also did the seat, saddle bags, and my third gift, the leather jacket your Mom has for you. It was made for me, but she says you’ve grown considerably, and it will fit well. Leathers was shot down by the ABTF goons in ’30 for wearing his colors on the street in Seattle. They left him to die like an abandoned dog in that same street. Well, that’s about all. I’ll never leave here, but you Mother knows where the Runer’s are hiding in Mexico. She’ll tell you how to find them if you decide to join them- when you decide to go. Because you’re my son, the ABTF will probably be watching you, so listen to the Brother’s and learn how to go grey until it’s time to not. Always remember; Ride hard, Ride fast, Be true to your Mom, me, your brothers, and most all to Yourself. Your loving father, Charlle “Crips” Mathews Note: I wrote the original of this story in 1986, I re-wrote in ’03 and again this week. By re-wrote, I upped some dates, changed a couple of names but otherwise the story is as I wrote it 35 years ago.  All I had to change was the dates. Scary ain’t it? Seems like nothing has really changed all these years. I can still see this coming. Well, I’ll see you att the Re-Education camp. Or Seattle.

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