There’s this little dive bar that I like to drink in when I’m Dallas side. It’s in the north end just down the street from ridiculously priced homes, but in the same shopping center as a Texas Family Fitness. Weird, right? Anyway, it’s sketchier and more country than the places I might frequent closer to the Delta County seat. Passed a bike in the parking with a POW helmet hanging from the handlebars by the strap and a peace bear riding bitch. At 11 on a Sunday morning, there’s just 3 of us here and it seemed as good a place as any with no internet to write. But get this, when I asked the bartender to get the guy a beer on me, he told me that he’s in the back at the BIKER CHURCH. I didn’t know these things existed. When the music cut out, I could hear the preacher going on laying down some hellfire. “Those that were against god are still against Him. We will NOT open ourselves up to the demons. You KNOW the road to hell is paved with what? GOOD intentions, my friends.”Then there was pounding – as they agreed- I guess. I don’t know. I do know that I’m going to show up on Sunday mornings over here a little more often. Dude, BIKER CHURCH.
I got about 1500 hundred words written and bought that guy a beer.
TL;DR There’s a biker church at my bar. I know, right? I had to introduce myself to the vet in attendance, anything less would have been a rook mistake.