I had driven almost 800 miles to be part of history. Think about it. 2 MILLION bikers converging on one place to insure that the sanctity and solemnity of 9/11 be kept out of the hands of those who would try to dilute and pervert the memory of all those who had lost their lives that horrid day. One million Muslims were NOT going to stand in the shadow of our nation’s capital and complain that they have been treated unfairly. Let them try to burn the flag and they’ll find out what a biker’s boot feels like three feet up their ass. Even that would be fair. No, there weren’t going to be any Muslim protests on 9/11, here or anywhere else, not on American soil. From the moment I heard that 2 million bikers would descend on DC I knew I had to be there, to be the eyes and ears for those who might otherwise never know. Everyone knew the major news networks were going to ignore the event, because it didn’t fit in with the Progressive agenda. I had friends who were considered news hounds, and they hadn’t seen a single thing on CBS, ABC, NBC, CNN or FOX. Airing such stuff would threaten the vise-like grip the Regime had over the average citizen. Let one million Muslims parade through the streets of Washington DC, waving their jihad flag and burning effigies of Uncle Sam, and the State-run media would have wall to wall coverage, showing us in our living rooms how repressed and persecuted those poor Muslims were, how they were being unfairly treated, and how ok it was that they let off a little steam on what would otherwise be a Muslim hating day.
You know, I wasn’t really upset at the Muzzies who planned on protesting the next day. At least they were being true to themselves. At least we knew what to expect from them. Most dogs can’t fool you into thinking they’re a cat. The ones I had a major problem with were the evil bastards slinking around the halls of Congress and in the White House pretending to be good shepherds. There were wolves all up in the pasture because our politicians have sent flyers to every last wolf community saying there was a free buffet going on, just follow the spotlights rotating in the sky. The average sheeple on the street, ones who have had the wool pulled over their eyes, would gasp and recoil at such a notion. “Why, our leaders would never let anything bad happen to us! We have a government that’s FOR the people!” I’ve got news for you, sweet bleat. The power players in DC want to OWN us, they want us to be good little lambs who will run to them at the first sign of trouble. They want to tell us what to eat, what to wear, what to drive, what to say, what to think, when to have babies and when not to, when to laugh and cry, where to go, who to vote for, who to like and who to hate. Babycakes, our own precious, innocent government will even let bad things happen – will even MAKE bad things happen – to us just so we can cower deeper into its all encompassing skirt. There are wolves in the pasture to distract us from the guys rebuilding the stable back home.
I thought about these things as I sat in my car across the street from the Fort Washington Harley-Davidson dealership. I had spoken to the manager and gotten permission to crash here for the night, but had to move from my spot beside the building as they had to rope it off in anticipation of the coming horde of bikers. I watched them tape off the perimeter of the building as the riders who had gotten there earlier scattered to motels and camp grounds throughout the area. Soon the showroom lights were off and the employees struck out for their homes to get some rest before the big day tomorrow. I sat there in my car and thought about things as the hot September sun slowly crept toward the horizon.
It was hard to imagine two million motorcycles in this parking lot, and harder still to imagine them rolling as one machine down Pennsylvania Avenue in front of the White House. This wasn’t going to be just a response to the Muslim protest, this was going to send a message to the cheating, lying, stealing sonsabitches cowering in their congressional offices that the PEOPLE are the ones with the power, and if we wanted to we could run every last one of their sorry asses out on a rail. As I sat there listening to the faint rumble of semis on the Beltline encircling DC and imagining what two million motorcycles would sound like (yes, just like rolling thunder!), it struck me. What would happen if two million TRUCKERS were to descend on the capital? What would happen to the corrupt engine of government if just for one day truckers refused to haul their loads, leaving their trailers on off-ramps and highways and warehouses and overpasses to drive to Washington DC and roll down Constitution Avenue with their airhorns blaring? Mix in a couple million bikers, a few hundred thousand disaffected and overtaxed taxi drivers, a smattering of dump trucks and every underpaid pizza delivery guy in a three state area, and THEN what would happen? The truckers alone, with or without their trailers, would absolutely paralyze commerce.
What if we all went on strike until the Constitution were restored, until the government once again represented the will OF THE PEOPLE, until those bastards lifted their grimy boots off our Bill of Rights, until they let capitalism work, until they left us ALONE? We can take care of each other until then if we had to because we would want to, because we are to love our neighbor as ourselves, because we’re sick and tired of being sick and tired. As darkness spread across the land, I sat in my car and imagined the possibilities. As if in answer to my ponderings, a line of semis rolled by me, rattling my windows and my conscience.
To be Continued…