If you ride, you’re probably a poker run veteran. If you’ve never done one, here’s how a typical poker run works: you pay an entry fee, grab your ride pin, route map, and first card, then motor to four designated stops, collecting additional cards. At the final stop, the rider with the best poker hand wins a cash prize, and the rest of the money goes to charity.
I went on a poker run a couple of Sundays ago. I recently joined the American Legion Riders, and this was my first outing with the group. In addition to our 15-rider contingent, groups of riders from several other motorcycle clubs turned out: almost 200 riders in total, a respectable number for a poker run. This run was sponsored by the Disabled American Veterans, and the stops were at DAV chapters and American Legion posts.
Which is why I foolishly signed up for this run. Normally I don’t go on poker runs because they’re more drinking events than riding events: every stop is a bar. I don’t drink and ride, and I don’t like hanging out with people who are drinking and riding. Somehow I forgot that DAV chapters and American Legion posts all have bars, so this turned out to be a bar-to-bar run after all. And, as usual, everyone else was there specifically to drink and ride. Shit.
Sure as hell, our group didn’t push off for the first stop until just before ten in the morning. Wouldn’t want to get there before they can start serving alcohol, right? And then one beer leads to another . . . and another . . . and did I mention smoking? People who drink in the morning, people who drink in the morning and ride motorcycles from bar to bar, such people are predominately smokers. Chain smokers. Chain smokers and chain drinkers.
All of which left me with nothing to do but wander around the parking lots, checking out the motorcycles while I waited for my group to drink and smoke its fill. Occasionally I’d dash into the bar, holding my breath, to ask for a club soda or glass of water.
I don’t mean to sound self-righteous (yes, I know I do), but for someone who likes to ride, it was a crappy time and a crappy experience. Even the short rides between bars were unfulfilling: the inexperienced riders in our group didn’t understand the idea of staggering and kept weaving from one side of the lane to the other, forcing the following riders to drop back for safety, and almost all of them were riding Harleys with straight pipes . . . wow, this is really turning into a bitch session, isn’t it?
Okay, no more poker runs. This time I really mean it. Having paid for the patches and all, I’m sticking with the American Legion Riders, but the next time I ride with them I think I’ll offer to lead the ride. And it won’t be from bar to bar.
Here I go again, trying to change the world!