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Years ago I had been a member of a motorcycle club called The Rebels. I still had my vest and every few years I would shake off the dust and wear it to a club reunion. This year as I pulled up at the Sweet Water Creek Bar and Grill on my Harley I had Heather behind me.

I noticed a number of other bikes out front but I didn’t recognize any of them. That was not unusual as this was a common biker hangout.

When we went inside I realized those bikes belonged to another club. They were wearing vests that said ‘Turks’.

I didn’t expect any trouble and I nodded at a couple of them who turned to look at us as we entered.

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