Hello and welcome to my newest tale; Cuallacht an Feoirling: A Motorcycle Club Tale
Inspired by the hit TV show, Sons of Anarchy, I’ve created a new “MC” and set them in the Midwest along the hustling highways and byways of Cameron, MO – a city I actually used to live in.
Here is a bit of a description:
The bonds of blood are stronger than time itself. Not the bond from a line of father to son, but that which is shed in the care, concern, and fellowship of one’s brother. Welcome to Cuallacht an Feoirling Motorcycle Club! Founded 25 years ago by three men who strove to form a brotherhood of men had nothing alone but everything together.
The nuts and bolts:
Following in the idea of Sons of Anarchy welcome to Cuallacht an Feoirling – which translates to Society of the Penny in Gaelic. Founded by some recent Irish immigrants to the Midwest who lived on the streets and joined together to survive that life. They scrape by to make a living, to just earn a “penny” – which is hilarious to think of now because over the last twenty-five years they have established themselves with businesses, homes, and have amassed a lot of wealth.
They recruit “prospects” from those who seemingly have nowhere else to go. “Patch-members” have charitable outreaches, seemingly legitimate businesses, and lives. Join in as a member of the club – the Prez spot is already filled but that’s not to say it is permanent… Or create your own club and Prez that one.
The Cuallacht an Feoirling, often just called “CF” since no one can pronounce it right, is based in the city of Cameron, MO. A seemingly quiet and normal town. The club setup shop here after founding member and former Sgt. at Arms, Lewis Burrows, was incarcerated there 24 years ago at the State Prison. They operate a trucking company – Lucky Transport – and the clubhouse is based at the depot for the company. Most everyone rides a motorcycle of some kind though it isn’t expected. A lot of the guys double as semi-drivers too.
Basic club rules are:
1. The Club comes first.
2. The Club comes first. (stated twice intentionally)
3. For any questions, see rules 1 & 2.
They participate in any and every form of illegal activity, focusing on shipping primarily. This has made them the middle-man for lots of other groups and sometimes leaves them at odds with them.
And here is the introductory post: A Day Off? Hardly…
It was Memorial Day and the sun was up. Ronan MacCauley sat back in his lawn chair in the lot of Lucky Transport with a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other. A quiet moment for the club President. The lot was closed to traffic and trucks and the kids used this to their advantage – they were running all over the place, something they rarely got to do in a yard that was usually bustling with semis.
J.O. Browning, a local pig farmer, had graciously setup a pig roast for the club for the holiday. He was a wonderful old man who had been robbed at gunpoint a few years back on his way home from a livestock auction. The cops weren’t able to catch the perps, but that hadn’t stopped Ronan from asking around to see who was flush with cash. J.O. was old school and happy to help dispose of the troublemakers… and man were his hogs tasty… He’d been a “friend” of the club ever since.
Next to Ronan was his VP, Phillip “Mac” MacLeod, with an equally pleased grin on his face. Mac had grandkids running in that lot chasing around Ronan’s kids. Though the two men were both greying at the temples, Mac had settled down years ago and his ol’ lady had produced a bounty of children – seven. His oldest had three of his own now and they were the same age as Ronan’s kids. He’d sewed his oats a lot longer than Mac but when his new and much younger girlfriend ended up pregnant six years back he’d stopped all the carousing. They had a second now as well though no ring to match.
Club Treasurer and Secretary (leaving blank for placeholder) came over. “Sorry to bother you with this on our ‘day-off’ but there’s trouble,” he said.
Ronan stood, kissed his lady and the baby she had on her lap, downed his beer and winked to Mac who did likewise. Then the three went into the warehouse.