The ACES Motorcycle Club – The Beginning - Chapter 3

The Columbus Aces MC - circa 1967

The ACES Motorcycle Club – Eyes Wide Open

Hang Around

Jay 1%er - GBNF

I have recently touched on some of the negative sides to the club life, but allow me to mention some of the best times of my life as well. It was such an interesting time when I was a hang-around for almost a year, really just getting to know the one percenters in the clubhouse. As I had mentioned, a friend of mine, whom they called Delaware Jay, a one percenter to everyone, shocked unfortunately passed away of pneumonia not long after his invitation to the clubhouse. Even though I had been exposed to bikers for many years of my life prior, this was a whole new ball game as an adult.

Aces Motorcycle Club Run - circa 1968

The Ride

In the first year or two, it was tremendously eye-opening. When in conversation with friends and the topic falls on obstacles or challenges, or someone has been wronged, I encourage people to stand strong in their convictions. I have often encouraged new members to take from the club what they need to fulfill their lives, but be certain to give back twice as much. Another strong piece of advice I've given many times is to re-earn the respect of everyone you meet, every time you see them, by being an upstanding man of your word, and if you do that long enough, you will have earned their respect and be seen as a man of integrity, even by your adversaries.

I still clearly remember the first time I was invited to ride next to a 1%er (Chuckhole) and a small pack of bikes heading to a bike night. I was, of course, riding to his right and behind his back tire as we ripped through the city streets. But as we cleared traffic and got a stretch of unobstructed city street, "Chuckhole" looked over his right shoulder, took his hand from the throttle, dropped it to his side, and made two quick motions for me to come up alongside him. I did, and having just enough knowledge to know to respect a 1%er as you ride beside them, I kept my front tire about four inches behind the front of his, so as to indicate he was leading. It's funny that 20 years later, I can clearly picture it in my mind. From then on, every Thursday evening after church was conducted, and as I sat outside the clubhouse on a picnic table, sometimes alone, sometimes with others waiting. We would pack up two by two and rip through the city streets to one destination or another. It was absolutely wonderful.

It Felt Different

I had owned and ridden a cruiser for better than 15 years prior to hanging out with the club, but never had I ridden much in large packs other than a poker run here or there. It somehow felt different; it felt like you rode with an attitude and purpose. I wish I could say that I picked up all the intimate details immediately, but it takes time to learn how to maneuver in a pack. I will also never forget the very first night I was handed a probate vest and we were taken out by the chapter boss to celebrate. This would be our last evening of celebration until our patch was earned. And the very first thing that myself and my future brother and first night probate, Wayn-o, did was park incorrectly at the very first bar that we stopped at. You see, the group of one percenters had pulled in ahead of us as we were at the rear of the pack, spun around the parking lot as we followed; they stopped, backed their bikes up against the front wall of the bar, as Wayn-o and I pulled in front tire first and parked them. Well, very first lesson, first night in a club: you back your bike in so that if you must make a hasty exit, you are not having to back your bike out of a parking spot while everyone else rips off. I will say that the chapter president and one percenter, TL, who later became a respected friend, took it easy on us and just said, "Hey, probates, come here a minute," and proceeded to explain why you never pull your bike into a parking space. This was only the beginning of the next 183-day education. Even though I knew much about the life and the code, I would firsthand learn so much more.

Without Probation You Know Nothing

Over the past couple of decades, I can't tell you the number of times I've heard friends and bikers tell me there was no way they would ever probate for a motorcycle club, as they were men and not someone's bitch. I never argued with them because the last thing I would want to do is convince somebody to be something they are not, and I don't mean being a bitch. I assure you, I had never volunteered to work so hard at anything in my life up until that point. But what I was taught and what I appreciated was the fact that it is not about being everyone's bitch; it is about serving a greater purpose than just yourself. And I find it humorous that people will punch that time clock early or no less than the minute they are required in exchange for a paycheck that many barely get to enjoy, but they must, to appease their bosses. I didn't have to be where I was; I chose to be where I was. And in exchange for the education, camaraderie, brotherhood, and family that I was becoming a member of, I had no issue working bar duty, security, or taking out the trash. I was raised on a farm in the Midwest, and chores came early and often ran late. Hard work for free was not a new concept to me. And even as my position grew within the life, you could still find me taking out the trash at a large event we were hosting. Because I was raised that if you walk past a trash can and it's full, you empty it, and nobody is above that.

But we weren't all raised the same.

Until Next Church, Keep it Real!

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