Happy 4th of July to my friends in the lower 48. I hope you and your families have a wonderful holiday.
I was listening to some backstretch rumor this week about what barn is doing what, and it got me thinking about Bob. No, not that Bob; another one - Cousin Bob.
Bob was in his 20's when I was a kid and I thought he was just about the coolest guy around. He had tattoos and the most-excellent chopper you'll ever see. Cousin Bob was a biker dude.
As far as I can tell (and heard) this was nothing nefarious, it was a bunch of guys and gals in their twenties carousing and living life. Then, just like with most of us, life got in the way. Bob was hired at a steel mill in the Southern Ontario town of Hamilton - Canada's Pittsburgh.
Bob worked there for the next twenty or so years and decided as he neared retirement he'd live a little bit of life again. He broke out the chopper, got it fixed up and began riding on weekends. A couple of his old friends joined, then a few new ones. This group grew to eighteen or nineteen and they had a blast riding around, just enjoying the summer.
One day they stopped for lunch and one of the cohort decided this new bike gang needed a name.
After batting around several, one piped in with the new moniker that would stick - they'd be now known as the FOG - the "Fat Old Guys".
A logo was created with the acronym along with a chopper with flames shooting out the exhaust, which I think was a bike gang logo staple. They proudly wore the patch on their backs, just like old times.
One day about a month or two later the phone rang. One of Bob's FOG pals was in a tizzy. He received a call from someone in a *real* bike gang from Toronto.
"They want to meet. They think we're a real gang and we're planning to encroach on their turf", said his pal, who I think was an accountant.
Bob was perplexed, "Why would they want to meet with us, we're the freaking Fat Old Guys."
"That's the thing," explained Bob's friend. "They think we're the FOG all right, but not the Fat Old Guys. They think our gang is called "Friends of God". They believe we're a Christian bike gang and they had trouble with one once."
"All I know is that you and I are supposed to be in North Toronto tonight at 9."
Bob knew enough about the culture that he had to show up, so the two of them drove to the meeting. Funnily enough, the accountant's wife made him pack socks and underwear, just in case he ended up in the hospital.
Bob and his pal drove up and went in, where they were greeted by several real bikers, and one asked immediately, "Tell me about this Friends of God thing"
Bob explained that they were the Fat Old Guys, which (after some time) drew great amounts of laughter.
"I told you this sounded stupid," said one, who went on to explain how Jimmy heard they were the new Christian gang through Rickie's wife Sue, who heard it from another biker from another gang's mechanic, who heard it from..... well you get the picture.
They had a beer or two and went on their way. Crisis averted and the Fat Old Guys rode for years.
Bob passed away last year and I think of this story often. It's one of my favorites for many reasons, not the least of which is the game of telephone it exemplfies.
When I heard this week that this barn has this juice from this source because Jimmy knows someone's wife who knows someone, it brought it back once again.
No doubt sometimes a gang really is the Friends of God, but more often than not they're just the Fat Old Guys.
Have a nice Tuesday everyone, and rest in peace Bob. You were one of a kind.
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