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MidReal Story
A third-generation member of t
Anonymous
Mar 30
Scenario:A third-generation member of the Asphalt Rippers MC, Ryder "RJ" Anderson, eagerly anticipates his patch day and reflects on the significance and history of the club, while his sister Willow tries to convince him to let her ride with him on the Razorback Run, a dangerous mountain road.
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Willow is pounding on my bedroom door, yelling for me to get up.
It’s 4:30 in the morning, and I’m not a morning person.
I’ll kill her for waking me up.
“RJ, come on!
Get your massive ass out of bed!”
I roll over and grab my phone.
I can hear my mom’s voice coming from the hallway, and I know Willow’s not going to stop until she gets me up.
I unlock my phone and check the time.
I’ll be up in a few minutes.”
I yell back.
“An hour, you mean!”
She hollers as she continues to pound on my door.
I roll over and groan at the thought of getting up so damn early.
I need to shower and get ready before the chaos starts in my house.
I can already feel the butterflies churning in my stomach, and I know it’s going to be a long day.
This is the most important day of my life so far.
It’s my patch day.
The day I become a full-fledged member of the Asphalt Rippers MC.
We call our bikes our “old ladies” and the club is our family—our brothers ride beside us every day through thick and thin.
The Rippers were founded by my great-uncle and grandfather back in 1965, making it one of the oldest clubs in the country with its original members still active today.
My dad and grandpa were both members, so this club is a huge part of my life.
It’s an honor to become a member—a privilege that only a few are lucky enough to have bestowed upon them.
Most of us are born into it, our mothers’ bellies swelling with pride as we grow inside them, their hearts pounding with excitement at the thought of their sons becoming members one day.
For those outside the club, it may seem like an archaic tradition with no place in today’s society, but for those of us inside it, it’s our way of life and it’s who we are.
“Dad’s already gone,” she reminds me.
“Mom’s been up for hours, getting things ready for today.”
I’m glad my parents are up.
I need my family to get me through today.
They know how much this day means to me, how long I’ve been waiting for it to finally happen—how hard I’ve worked to get here.
I throw the covers off of me and sit up in bed.
I’m on my way,” I call out to her.
I listen as Willow stomps down the hallway.
She’s so excited she can barely contain herself.
Even though it’s my day, I have a feeling she’ll be trying to steal my thunder all morning long.
She’s been like this for weeks, ever since Mom told her she’d have a role in today’s celebrations.
I’m not exactly sure what she’ll be doing, but she refuses to let me forget that it’s not all about me.
I smile at the thought of her bouncing around the house like a kid on Christmas morning, waiting for her turn to join in the fun.
