WEREWOLVES ON WHEELS TO CALL IT QUITS

AMERICA’S OLDEST OUTLAW PACK NOW HISTORY

The leader of Werewolves On Wheels, America’s oldest outlaw biker gang, sits outside a bowling alley in Barstool, California and sighs. His name is Lonny Talbot and he’s joined by three of his pack members, Fielding, Buckshot and Mel. “It’s hard to let go of it all,” says Lonny. “But this isn’t the America I know. The America I know is aspirational, innocent and pure and filled with slow-witted people waiting to be slaughtered. That’s all gone, now. All gone.”

According to Lonny, WOW came into being in 1920. The first official biker club had started in Yonkers in 1903. “I was three year old, then,” says Lonny, “Just off the boat.” According to Lonny, werewolves became entrenched on the East Coast between 1900 and 1920. “You had a lot of immigrants landing, then,” he says. “A lot of them were from eastern Europe. They brought with them their beliefs, their fairy tales, their blessings…and their curses.”

THE ORIGINS OF THE WHEELS

Lonny’s fairly sure he was a werewolf when he arrived in America in 1905, at the age of five. “I used to wonder why I had a room with a cage in it. I mean, other kids didn’t have cages. Should I be proud or what? It was about that time that I developed acne, my first ulcer and incontinence.” Eventually, the immigrants settled in amicably. But once a month? All the immigrant communities were victims of rampaging murderers.

“Cut to the chase,” chuckles Lonny, “the immigrants knew how to respond but the cops didn’t. The families had their silver bullets and swords. The cops? They were also trying to figure out a series of vampire killings. It was classic slapstick. One night, during a full moon, I noticed my cage was left open. My father was never keen on having a wolf-kid as a son, so I figured he was telling me to split. My original name was Talbotinski. I shortened it, stole a cycle and took off.”

“TRY TELLING SOMEONE YOU’RE A WEREWOLF.”

Through sheer serendipity, he met a few travelers of his ilk. “Fielding, Buckshot and Mel were the first guys I met who were werewolves on wheels. You think it’s easy coming out of the closet? Try telling someone you’re a werewolf.  They tend to look at you like you’re a woo-woo ward graduate. But to play it safe, we all got ourselves arrested in Tijuana on the night of the full moon. We were all behind bars. Not only did we prove that we all shared Lycanthrophy and were honest-to-god werewolves but that we all shared a passion for Mexican food.”

As the core group headed west just to see their new country, they picked up new members and dawdled enough in different towns to pursue scholarly paths. All the members, now highly skilled, moved to Barstool and became pillars of the community.

“Buckshot’s a TV sit-com writer,” reveals Lonny. “Fielding is a Federal Agent and Mel is a podiatrist.”

So, why end Werewolves On Wheels, now?

Fielding looks up, sad-eyed. “It’s like Lonny says. This isn’t like the old days. There was a certain freedom to it, a romance with the land that’s gone, a sense of wanderlust and the poetry of it all. We’d just breathe it all in, this slice of America and, then, rip the throats out of the locals.”

“IT’S TOUGH TO BE MARRIED”

Mel smiles and shrugs, “You have to admit that the roads are a lot better, these days. My teeth sounded like canastas when we traveled in the 30s.”

The quartet begins to reminisce about establishing their identities in town and settling down in jobs that had to allow them to take off three to four days a month to do “secret government” work. Astonishingly, it all worked. Most of the men in the group are single.

“It’s tough to be married,” says Lonny, who is married. “You have to level with your-wife-to be, who will then think you’re nuts. So, you wait to tell her until full moon night, then, lock yourself in cage. If she’s there the next day, you have a life mate. Of course, you’ll have to bite her, eventually, but, then, she’ll share the curse and can come with us on our monthly ‘rallies.’

“I haven’t had problems with marriage,” Lonny says. “I worry about the kids, though. They’re beginning to chase cars and nip at the rear tires.”

How old are his children?

“Let’s see, Tim’s eight and Mary is sixteen. I’m sure it’s just a phase.”

“WHY AREN”T I TOLD THESE THINGS?”

It’s then, that Lonny leads this reporter onto the patio and invites me to walk into a shark tank. “It occurred to me that you might think I was just gaslighting you. Please step into the cage, as you see we’ve crossed hatched it with even more steel. I’ll lock all the locks from the outside and, then, give you the key.

“There are cameras in there for you to record our transformation. Should we really begin to do damage to the cage, start singing ‘Zippity-Do-Dah.’ For some reason, that calms us down.”

Mel walks up to Lonny. “It’s a shame we won’t be riding, anymore. There are two full moons in October. The second one is on Halloween.”

“What????” Lonny screams. “WTF? Why aren’t I told these things?”

The full moon peeks out from behind the clouds. This WWN reporter gazes out upon the growling, wild-eyed monsters flinging themselves, screaming, at the cage. Suddenly, I’m transported to my divorce hearings, but that’s none of your business.

Sizing up the situation, this scribe is moved to song.

“Zippity-do-dah, Zippity-a…”

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