Richard Deadeye Hayes - Outlaw Biker: : My Life at Full Throttle

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Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

Thanks to Edie, Jessica and Danielle, my brother Bill Hayes, and all my club brothers. Also a special thanks to Cripple Mike at Butchs Custom Cycle and to Fred from Yarusso Bros. for that great eggplant parmigian.

Deadeye

Thanks to Bill Dorn and Bill Hammond of the 2Bills Agency, to Michaela Hamilton for riding editorial shotgun, to Gary Niemeier, who provided computer skills for the manuscript, and to Sue Kearns and Jim Kuether for their photography skills.

Mary

Afterword

W ell, thats itthe good, the bad, and the ugly. Writing this book was a great cleansing. Id like to thank Mary Gardner, without whose help and totally non-judgmental attitude this book would still be rambling around in my head. Who would have thought Id become best friends with a seventy-year-old college English teacher and author? My brother Butch made my life a lot more interesting even after his passing when he still managed to introduce the two of us.

Id also like to thank my friend and lawyer (a true oxymoron) Roger (The Shark) Alderson, for legal advice on statutes of limitation. He told me its seven and a half years for everything except kidnapping and murder, which have no limits for prosecution. So I left out those two chapters.

Ive taken many paths and grown a lot as a person, as Ive come to realize. Ive always wondered why, after two shootings, one stabbing, a snake bite, a scorpion bite, numerous car and motorcycle accidents, and even two marriages, Im still around. Probably its to show only the good do die young.

I hope this book opened up at least a small part of my world to you. Thanks.

The person your parents warned you about,
Deadeye

CHAPTER 1

ON THE ROAD

D amn, there goes the alarm. Man, I hate working Saturdays, but thats the fun of owning your own business. Id better at least stop by the clubhouse to see everyone offthats the least the club president can do.

I hate missing runs. All the shit I get from the guys, and then I really feel left out afterward when theyre all talking about the fun they had. But at least they have a great day. It smells so good after last nights rain. Its got to be 75 already, and its only 8 a.m.

As I ease the chopper onto Highway 52, I start looking around and notice how blue the sky is todaythe white of the clouds almost looks fake. Woooh, better pay attention to the road! That van just cut over with no signal. Dickhead. Id give him the finger, but why start the day with negative karma?

Coming up to Marian, I see two bikes ahead and throttle up. Sure as shit, its Burp and Jim on their way to the clubhouse. As I catch up, they wave and smile. As we turn onto Western, I can feel the excitement. Everyone is really psyched. Last night everyone was showing up, dropping off tents, sleeping bags, everything they didnt want to strap to their bikes. After all, we had the Big Blue Bus as a backup vehicle, and we could get a lot of shit in itthree kegs and ice with at least two cases of booze and steaks, as well as four bikes. There was even room for a couple of us to sleep if there was a storm. We were set.

We came around the corner and backed up to the curb. Mother Mick yelled, You better have a talk with that prospect! He showed up with bagels instead of rolls. What the helleven some cream cheese shit! We had to send him up for rolls. Needledick New Yorker!

I slid off the bike and wandered into the clubhouse where I was met by Gaylord, the road captain, saying, Are we going to leave on time at ten a.m. or dick around until eleven or twelve?

I said, No, get everyone gassed up and leave at ten. Anyone not here knows the route and has to play catch-up.

I grabbed a roll and walked over to Butch and Tooter. They started with, Oh, the president has to work and cant hang around with us, has to make that big money.

Yeah, I said, it sucks being responsible. When you have a restaurant and you are open certain hours, you have to be there. Then I went upstairs to see if Beaver was there, and we sat down and went over the route. As vice president, he was in charge when I wasnt there. I got Gaylord, and we went over the details. I told him to brief everyone before we left as to the route and make sure to tell the invited guests to ride behind the prospects. He said there was road construction on the route last week, but he had a shortcut already mapped out. During all this, I think I heard fifteen times that they wished I was going along. It was hard to see all the commotion and not want to be a part of it.

At 9:40 we were all outside, and Gaylord was giving the specifics. There were about forty people with the invited guests, and I was bummed, knowing I would be at work and they would be out cruising. I was going to catch up after work, but there was nothing like leaving with the pack. The sound, the roar, was deafeningman, you got goose bumps. It made the ground shakenothing like it.

Well, everyone was gassed up and the bus was loaded. It was a good investment for $2,000. The bikes were lining up, and Id gone around shaking hands and saying, Have a great ride. Ill be there tonight.

But Id only gotten halfway through the line when I walked over to my own bike, kicked it over, and before I knew it, I was at the head of the line. Beaver laughed and said, I knew you couldnt just watch us leave, Bro.

Whats a few less burgers and tacos?it isnt like its brain surgery, I said. Ill call in at the first gas stop and tell them the kitchen is closed today because of sickness. (I was sick of working.)

Then Sizzler pulled up to stop the traffic on Western, and off we went. I looked in my mirrors just to watch the bikes keep coming around the corner. The rush you feel is too cool, up in front, leader of the pack, watching the looks on the faces of the people in their General Motors cages as we roll by. This is living.

As we roll onto 94, we throttle up, and the sound is great. We head into the middle lane, tighten up into a nice pack, and off we go. You feel so alive on a bike with the wind pounding your body and every crack in the road coming up to meet you. All your senses are heightened. I like to play back the events of the previous days, or maybe play a little Bob Seger in my head like Turn the Page or Roll Me Away. When I look back in my mirror, I see all these bikes and know Im a part of this. We are all together, all brothers. How many people look at us rolling down the road and say, Man, I wish that was me. But they know deep down that, though it looks great, its not for them because theres too much to lose.

At our first gas stop, we fill all the pumps, but I get everyone over to the one island, leaving the second one open for the citizens. After all, I dont want people to get the wrong impression. Then Dirty Don comes up bitching how much oil Reds bike is throwing at him, and hes covered with it. So I say, Tell it to the road captain. Hes in charge while were on the road. Soon everyone gets done gassing up and grabs a snack, and thirty minutes later were off on our way north. We were heading up to a campground a little past Annandale where wed spend the night. The trip goes smooth, and when we get to the town, we decide to stop and see whats going on. Youd think we all had three heads and were on drugs, the way people stared. But the town looked kind of cool with a Western motif on the front of all the little shops.

We all piled into the first bar, when someone said, Lets go eat. I think the bartender mentioned a smorgasbord up the street, so I sent a prospect to see who wanted to eat and round them up. The rest of us would be in the bar waiting. I was one of the eaters, along with fifteen others, and I also had the money because the club was paying and the treasurer was out of town. I left $150 in the bar for the non-eaters, so everyone was happy.

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