I have been crazy busy the last few months with writing articles, traveling (which by the way...I never get to do normally), and running for Mom of the Year, so I am back now with stories and hubs to share! My last trip was to Reno, NV this last week. And boy do I have a story to report!

I suppose having the opportunity to cover the "war" between Hell's Angel's and the Mongols motorcycle clubs could lead to a hot article and maybe even land me an editorial position, you would think anyway, Instead it landed me in a hotel room, terrified to come out! Now, in my defense, I was wearing red and truly someone should have told me that these bike clubs would be flying their colors like the flag on the White House in every square inch of Reno that week, but nope, not that lucky!

I consider myself safe in situations like these, merely for the fact that I do not belong to any particular club, I also do not have anything against any of the clubs. I have always felt comfortable and at ease on many of the bike runs I have been on, as well as riding in general. Most seem to be pretty tight knit, they offer a sense of belonging, regardless of your affiliation or lack of.  Anyway, I was a bit worried about the tension that could literally be cut with a knife (let's hope not) in Reno this year. So off the bike I went, back to my room to change into something more appropriate....

Wait! What will be more appropriate to wear? Was it going to be black, I like black. Nope, black is for the Mongols. Maybe green? Yes, green, after all I was staying at the Fitzgerald (green everywhere!) but that was not going to work either because green is for the Vago's!! Oh hell! keep the red girl, the Angel's have always been cool to me. I did think about sporting rainbow colors, but then I would have been a part of the gay pack...just a thought here...probably not a good idea either! What is a girl to do when put in a situation that clearly she should not be in? Retreat to the casino, that's what! Well read on, the story goes like this...

In the dusty, gusty desert lowlands of Nevada, the town of Reno lights up like a Broadway show in New York. The ride up was fantastic, perfect weather, beautiful sights and the glorious sounds of thousands of chrome horses. It was a sight for sore eyes...and asses!  Believe me, the long-ass drive can take a toll on the sensitive buttocks region, but well worth it, unless there happens to be a proposed war between two rival motorcycle clubs happening, and I am not talking in Iraq. The event being held is an annual event, that brings bikers from all regions, beautiful girls ready to sell just about anything and vendors from all over the world displaying goods from leather to lace to the best darned beef jerky in all the world!

10,000 hotel rooms are packed with bikers from all over the Southwest and "NO VACANCY" signs light up the entire strip of Reno for 5 days out of the year. Most are weekend warriors, a bit like me and my hubby who enjoys putting a blinding polish on the chrome of our Harley once a year, or when a great story comes about. Let's not forget about those leather babes who'll flash more than their winning hand if asked. I have heard that Vegas, Reno and even Laughlin are those towns that never sleep, but it was amazing to see thousands of chrome cowboys emptying the town's liquor well dry.

Upon my arrival in sin city, I spotted about 23 Hells Angels riding tight and heading for none other than my hotel in a tight pack. Across the street were about 15 guys sporting the Mongols colors, now it doesn't take a rocket scientist to smell trouble through all that gasoline and exhaust. The noise of the revving V-Twin hog engines, known too many as "the rolling thunder" made the ground feel as though we were in the midst of an earthquake and basically added to ambiance of trouble.

We rode around for about 30 minutes just trying to find a parking spot that didn't require squeezing between to motorcycles belonging to one gang or another. What I learned this week, which was quite fascinating though,  OMG doesn't always mean, "Oh My God" as I first thought...it also means Outlaw Motorcycle Gang...OMG!!!  You could spot an "OMG" bike by looking for a key left in the ignition, many of them leave their keys in the ignitions because they can be ready to roll out in a moments notice, and let's face it, do you really want to attempt stealing one of their bikes?

Finally we found a spot that would hold three of our bikes and one truck safely and even visible from our hotel room. We get unloaded and head to the hotel lobby, the Angel's were already there, and not the one's I had on my shoulder! As they had parked right in front of the lobby, I guess they can do that, we were walking in right behind them and could see all the nervous eyes looking up from the blackjack tables. It was official; we had booked a room in the middle of Hell, well Hell's Angel's lair to be exact! I soon realized that elevators are your friend when put into situations like this, you see, they can't do anything to you in there, because when the elevator doors open up, it's only you and them, so if your dead on the floor, it is pretty obvious who did it!

Back down in the casino a bit later, we were now mingling among the Angel's and a few gambling die-hards, all going well it seemed, until I spotted those 15 some Mongols, not even a 100 feet away. Mongols are a rival club from East L.A. and according to the news reports, were going to be targeted by the Angel's for a shooting and killing of a head MC of Hell's Angel's up in San Francisco, by the nickname of "Papa". The HA's believe that the Mongols are to blame, the blood between these two clubs run bad so there was some concern for recreational riders as well as the towns surrounding Reno.

Generally this bike rally, "Street Vibrations" is an annual event that is expected to bring in more than 30,000 bikers to Reno as well as pump at least $70-million dollars into our local economy. Street Vibrations is the 6th largest motorcycle event in the entire country, so it is no surprise that where you have that many bikers, you are bound to have trouble somewhere.

Sporting black and white low-rider patches on their jackets, the Mongols are armed with preparation and anticipation. There on the casino floor with surveillance cameras rolling and every word being captured on video, I could not help but think of the incident that happened back in 2002 during the annual River Run in Laughlin, NV. That incident being the clash of the hell's Angel's and The Mongols, that killed several, injured dozens. The Mongols and The Hell's Angel's reeked havoc in a local casino, over-turning blackjack tables causing a rain storm of chips, cards and dice, busting slot machines and destroying anything that came into their path.

When the sounds of gunfire erupt through the casino, there stood a man dressed in black leather still messing with his pistol in an attempt to reload. Just minutes later, there were ten ambulances and dozens of cop cars arriving at the mayhem to cart off the dead and mangled bikers, patrons, gamblers and wait staff. Needless to say that this Wild West shoot-out was going to go down as the deadliest gunfight in the history of Nevada, and I was thinking we were going to get first glimpse of the next deadliest gunfight right there in the Fitzgerald!

The tension and bad blood between these two gangs started 2 decades earlier than that Laughlin incident over which club had the right to wear a California patch. Using interviews with members of different clubs and bystanders who witnessed this type of violence over the years, it was no secret that tension was expected to rise again, this time in Virginia City, NV and I was there!

Well I arrived home safely and have stories to tell, especially about the brain-dead idea of wearing my daughter's white T-Shirt that have old English lettering in RED across my back that says, "SOULEEZY" that actually cannot be read unless you are right up behind me...all that is visible is the red lettering which I suppose was more like a bulls eye for the Mongols. And I do not even know what that nickname means! I think I was just about ready to find out...I wondered why all of the hell's Angel's were so nice to me in the elevators, casinos and bars. It wasn't until later that I found out that they "prostitute" their women out; I just wasn't going to be my lucky day, I thought to myself as I mindlessly think of a way out. To my surprise, it ended up a pretty cool scene.

What I left Reno with, was a sense of belonging, not to the Angel's, not the Mongols, no Vago's but rather the, "Lone Wolf Pack". Or at least that is what my two dollar sticker says.  I decided that casting judgment on any one club is not a good idea for a long happy and healthy life, and that I was better off just being the clueless blonde wearing mismatched clothing for 4 days, looking a bit like a rodeo clown. This experience has not scared me off from riding though; I actually still love the element. Riding down the highway, giving friendly nods and a few peace signs to oncoming riders is what it is all really about.

If you do not belong to a bike gang, you really are not at risk. I discovered that street gangs are much worse than bike gangs! Street gangs shoot and kill, just to do so, bike gangs keep it centered to rivals, not innocent bystanders...essentially. There is no such thing as a good gang, but there is such a thing as good people. Many of these bike clubs are good people; I have run across many that I thought were pretty cool. We used to ride in packs to and from these runs that was, until a few bad apples decided to ruin it for everyone else.

Now days it's not safe to ride in a pack because really these packs are 500 guys and gals fueled by V-Twins, testosterone and PMS. I still wear my leather and boots, I still wear the black bandana across my face, because bugs are not a delicatessen like many say, but the bandana reads "GEICO" across it, I still follow the tradition of keeping a "spirit bell" on our bike, I still bow my head to fallen bikers and I still love the feel of all that power, not from a club or color but rather the bike and howling wind. I am a real biker, a weekend warrior and still the sweetest chrome cowgirl in the west!