EPT
First part of the story...http://www.teamliquid.net/blogs/viewblog.php?id=409623
So we are in Winterhaven Cali. Pulling up to a 2 bedroom duplex, across the "highway" from seemingly never ending fields of lettuce. The duplex was the home of my Aunt and my older cousin (her daughter) They would be our host for the few months (6 or so) we needed to get "on our feet" Dad getting down to biz with his prospecting stuff (being the club bitch for a year or more, aka never home) and my mom had already set up a new place for her to shake her stuff on stage for dollars.And my sister and I got enrolled in the local school on the Reservation. Come to find out I would be one of 4 white people at the middle school... My sister myself, my cousin and a guy who lived behind us Kevin.
At first I was excited, all things new... etc. Exploring the "town" of Winterhaven took all of 5 minutes. I soon found out that going to school as a white minority was not the best for your social standing in school, unless of course you wanted a clinic on how to get beat up, or how to run.... fast.My days quickly became school and its gauntlet of cruel kids, My Nintendo and my pellet gun.
I remember bits and pieces of living there. My older cousin giving me a hickey and being the laughing stock of 6th grade ( I was proud of it until I got to school) or the time I could not find my shoe and went to school with one shoe and said I had hurt my foot. Getting into a fight with Kevin (the other white guy) and slamming his head repeatedly against the counter over a gripper pencil I had lent to some girl in one of my classes. Being chased and mobbed at my first school dance (fyi do not go to the school dance when you are the only white dude, unless you have bodyguards lol)
That duplex and that little town just over the Colorado River from Yuma, Az. was the starting point to a few years of hell.
We eventually moved to Yuma where I was able to go to a "regular" middle school and I found a "good" friend. Will, what to say about Will. He was from a whitetrash broken home, he was a bully, stole, smoked, and for some reason he was my best bud for a couple years, despite him beating me up on occasion usually in front of girls for no reason. Not sure what it says about me but I took it and took it.
My Dad eventually got fully "patched" in to the club. My mom was having success as a dancer,even going on quite a few "tours" (Usually up through Cali. doing guest spots at other bars/strip clubs) One of the more memorable weekends was while my mom was gone for a week or so and my dad had a "run" with the club for the weekend (no clue where my sisters were at the time) As my dad was walking out the door he tells me to be safe and gave me some money for food etc. and then a brown paper bag said "have fun" and turned and left. Inside the paper bag was 3-4 porno mags and a couple porn videos.... Boy did I find out how to have fun that weekend... so much so I left the trailer like once if at all. The soundtrack to that weekend was my newly purchased AC/DC tape Thunderstruck, and Faith No More's The Real Thing.
Being new to the whole playing with ones self. I quickly realized a lubricant was needed. And being the resourceful young chap I was I found that a bit of water and some hand soap was a a gateway to slippery fun. Apparently you can have too much fun in that way... The last day waiting for an adult to show up was torture. For some reason I was having a painful time trying to pee and I had to constantly pee, It hurt so bad and when some liqiudi would finally come out it was tinged with blood. I was scared shitless. When my dad finally got home he had to take me to the ER and long and short of it I had got a UTI because of soap getting mashed into my urethra... On the car ride home the first thing my dad says to me after leaving the docotors while sitting at a red light. He turned to me and said "son dont ever use soap to whack off you dipshit."
Drugs and the biker lifestyle fueled my parents life. The club dabbled in many things, manufacturing and distributing Meth, guns, women, were the things I knew of. Ive heard of other things that had happened since then....
There were plenty of fights between my drug addled parents, and it was not uncommon for my dad to come home a bit busted up (and usually coming home the better than the other guy/guys) One crazier fight....We had just got to the trailer form going grocery shopping for some reason my parents had been fighting all the way home. My mom refused to get out so my dad got out and drug here by here hair into the house, I stayed frightened in the car for some time. At one point my mom runs out and my dad follows grabs her and my mom turns and stabs him right between the eyes( if she had gone either way a bit he would have lost an eye) with a fork, she turns and runs back into the house and for some reason I still can remember the fork pocking out of my dads face kinda bouncing around as he is going to chase after my mom. For some reason I went in side and sat in the living room, they were creating a ruckus in their room. My mom comes running out telling me to call the cops, while my dad keeps telling me dont worry we are just playing dont call...I was frozen I had no clue what to do. It seems like seconds later the cops show up, the neighbors had called and done a report. I still am so thankful for whoever called that day I honestly think that that could have been a bigger life change than it was.
Things got really crazy in Yuma towards the end there. My mom had finally had enough of the drug. biker world and left my dad...for the 4th time or so "this time for real" and it was ...My dad who loved my mom so much finally tried leaving the club....I remember the day we left Yuma. I was at school after school for wrestling, my mom came and picked me up and she had an old bread truck filled with our things and my siblings. We left Yuma that day. It would be almost 2 years before I was to see my dad again. A couple days prior, after my dad had told the club he wanted out, three of his "brothers" came to my house two of them having lived (in one guys case for years) with us and knew my family like it was their own. And beat him up with the butts of a gun and took him at gun point that would be my last time I saw my dad, like i said for close to two years. They took him to "repay" the club for wanting out he tattooed, worked on cars/bikes, and was a bitch pretty much (a prisoner if you will) for the club , they took his bike, money, and anything else they wanted and eventually let him leave Yuma with the threat to never return.
Life was very hard after leaving Yuma the time spent without my dad was spent in a literal fog. Just my sisters and me living in a little trailer while my mom danced the nights away trying to turn her body into her children's future. Eventually my dad would rejoin us, things would get better and better.... Eventually my dad got re envolved with the biker community eventually getting back into a club and reconnecting with his old club mates.....But thats enough for now.!! More to come if you all want it!!
Now some pictures!!
![[image loading]](http://i.imgur.com/Q36CeGE.jpg)
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![[image loading]](http://i.imgur.com/yqe8fMP.jpg)
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One of my Balloon Heros bought and sent me a fancy juggling hat!!(110 dollar hat OO)
![[image loading]](http://i.imgur.com/3hkMHh6.jpg)
![[image loading]](http://i.imgur.com/ysu3Rqn.jpg)
![[image loading]](http://i.imgur.com/zDjMbNa.jpg)
![[image loading]](http://i.imgur.com/KFNv26O.jpg)
![[image loading]](http://i.imgur.com/Htyl6BL.jpg)
![[image loading]](http://i.imgur.com/FzjrzCW.jpg)
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Mom and dad, Dad recent, and Dad And Jerry (shot himself in the head) from 1982 ( i was 6 years old)
![[image loading]](http://i.imgur.com/N6b2zfB.jpg)
![[image loading]](http://i.imgur.com/jHRG1GP.jpg)
(wearing his club colors) ![[image loading]](http://i.imgur.com/M6MeDJa.jpg)
![[image loading]](http://i.imgur.com/R25AKoA.jpg)
I can relate somewhat to certain experiences of yours.
