Cruisin' Into the Respectful World of Biker Etiquette
When I'm dead thirty or forty years from now, I envision a perfect inscription for my tombstone: “Dapper, The Nicest Asshole You Ever Met.
I treat just about everyone pretty good. Forget the fact I whipped the shit out of more than 200 bikers and various other disrespectful characters during a 30-year span. I'm not bragging but it's true. I won every brawl I entered as an adult. I've witnessed and participated in more fights than I can remember. Some people claim I've broken enough noses, and given enough black eyes to support an army of high-paid physicians.
Without exception, almost every brawl erupted because some asshole tried to bully me or picked on another guy I chose to defend. I beat only bullies who deserve good, sound ass whippings. Otherwise I behave as nice as Jolly Saint Nick. In fact, I've even played Santa a couple times in charity events. I show people nothing but respect as long as they treat me the same way. Nevertheless, I'm sure that when I die, hopefully at a ripe-old age, no one will step forward and try to proclaim me a saint...