The Motorsickle Gang

So as this spooktacular time of the year is at hand, there are always memories that emerge from our youth that help explain how we shaped into the adults were are today. At work, people discussed their favorite Halloween traditions, scariest stories or best and yet most feared memories. I began to think back to my favorite scary moments, and did past Halloweens pop into my head? Nope, but a past birthday sure did. You may be wondering, why on earth when thinking of sweet, yet utterly terrifying moments, a birthday (not on Halloween but in September) would come to mind. So if you would indulge me, sit back and I will tell you the tale of my 10th birthday and experience with...dun dun dun (dramatic pause inserted here) the MOTORSICKLE GANG!

It was a beautiful September in 1994, when a blonde, blue eyed girl got ready to celebrate her 10th birthday. I am telling this as I remember it, so no correcting of the facts because this will be how my shrink hears it. My dad asks me if I want to have the best birthday ever. Of course, I respond with an enthusiastic yes! We plan the big event. Me, along with 10-15 or so of my closest friends, plan a night of bowling and slumber party festivities. We finish bowling and are traveling back for pizza, junk food and movies, when we enter the gated community we were living in while our house was being re-built after the earthquake. As we drive, we notice a man walking along the sidewalk wearing a motorcycle helmet. Keep in mind, there was no motorcycle in sight. As we pull up to our house, we see that there seem to be red fliers on every door. They are a warning to lock all doors and stay put. My parents usher us quickly into the house and there are hushed tones and phone calls from the other girls' parents instructing them to not leave the house and t listen to whatever my parents say. The questions and curiosity are mounting as we try and fathom what could possibly be going on. It is then that my father enters the room, to tell us the twisted tale of the Motorsickle Gang. Here is what he shared.

When my dad was young, he loved working on cars and bikes. His friends would hang out and rebuild them together after school. They started a little bike club, which had quite a few of them involved. During this time there was an infamous motorcycle club in the area, called the Motorsickle Gang. The leader of the gang was powerful, almost beyond understanding. He has a connection with bikes. They could feel his presence. He could walk past a motorcycle with no gas and it would start up merely in his presence. Well my dad had had a run in with this leader. He was vague on the details, but what happened and what he saw required him to testify against this man at his trial. He was convicted, but swore to seek vengeance on my father. They thought he had died in prison, but it had been an elaborate escape and our house was now on lock down by the police. (PS. all the parents were in on it, so if you are starting to think my dad is the only crazy one, he has accomplices) Suddenly, we hear the motorcycle in the garage start up. The fumes begin to creep under the door and you can see the headlight glowing in the crevice. We scream and my dad yells for all of us to stay put while he runs out the back door. My mom runs after him and as she turns on the backyard light we look on in utter horror at the scene before us. Blood on the cement, a severed arm draped over a tricycle and then before we can react a huge figure with a horribly scarred face jumps toward us out of the darkness with a 15" machete. We go screaming for our lives as he comes into the house, begins to laugh and pulls off the mask to reveal my father.

Now that the jig was up. One of the other dads comes out of the garage and poor Nicki locked herself in the bathroom for quite some time. Over the top and out of control, quite possibly. Terrifying and unforgettable, most definitely. But when comes to knowing that my childhood was anything but boring, it was absolutely worth it. So Motorsickle Gang, at this time of year, I salute your memory and thank my lucky stars that I grew up with the most outrageous, over the moon crazy parents the world had to offer.