Bob’s first novel, based on factual events from 1979 when over 350,000 outlaw bikers joined together and rode on their Federal Buildings nation-wide as a protest. Action-packed, looking at the world thru the eye’s of a biker.
Introduction By Captain Sue Morgan
A Brotherhood of Outlaws is a novel, and has been called the most relevant look at the outlaw bikers culture in the 70s & 80s era ever written. It was initially published by Bentree House Publishing, and is currently in its 7th printing. It was translated into German and was a best-seller in Germany.
Excerpt from A Brotherhood of Outlaws
I glanced up from my speedometer and saw the broadcaster eyeballing down on me. Hell, I hope the pack is centered. I would hate to go to all this horsecrap and lose out on any of the exposure.
My fatbob Harley was running as good as it had ever run and the feel of the vibrating power came right through the handlebars. All I could think about was the snake behind me. I looked into my rearview mirror and once again my heart beat a little harder.
Jesus H. Christ, there is no better feeling in the world than leading 30,000 bikes down the road. Unless it might be leading 40,000 bikes down the road.
Just before we passed under the bridge I looked back up at the broadcaster. I had seen him before, at the park. He was kind of a little guy, but he seemed to know the score. I like him. Most of the newsmen that were sent to cover this protest were cocky new, because, after all, it was just a bunch of bikers sniveling about their rights being stepped on.
Makelray was different. Like he knew I had plans for this group. I don’t know how, but he knew.
Passing under the bridge made us sound even louder. The thunder roared and it was beautiful. I glanced next to me at Rom and he had this big shit-eating grin on his face. I guess the sound was getting to him too.
Rom and I had been through a lot in the last two years together, and this was going to be the payoff. I reached into my cutoff jacket and felt for my security. It was my 357 Magnum. The heft alone made me feel good.
We turned off the Golden State and onto the Pasadena freeway, toward the civic center. Hell I hope those cops got the blockades up and the traffic re-routed. If they don’t, I would just as soon take this pack through downtown Los Angeles. I was sick and tired of the bureaucracy bullshit that had been going on for the last few days and right now I really didn’t give a rat’s ass if they were ready or not. We got a point to make and brother are we going to make it.
We turned off the Pasadena and onto the Hollywood freeway. Just one more mile to go. As we dropped into the hollow under some bridges the echoing sounds of the pack came back to me and I was ready for anything. I could ride like this forever.
Our off ramp loomed ahead and I slowed the pack from 45 to 30 miles and hour. No use dumping some sidewalk commando and listening to the government turkeys harp on unsafe riding or other such horsecock. This day was set aside for bikers and dammit, that’s whose day it is. Period.
As we approached the Civic Center I could see all the police there. A quick glance up showed a couple of helicopters in the silver sky. I could see this was going to be a well-chaperoned event.
