A Stronghold Now Lay in Ruins

Words written by Hook

Photo captured by Hook 

On a beautiful sunny day in a highway, a group of bikers with their handle bars high, ride in a beautiful staggered position. Their engines roaring, men are shouting wildly at it each other. They're quite intimidating, their tattoos showing and their bikes unique to the public eye.Their colors all black and white, their backs with flaming skulls on a cross. While  others don't have them yet.

Their numbers were many,  it was an estimate that they were more than 50 riding judging by the numbers as my young nephew counted them one by one until he lost the ability to go further than 50. They were riding with smiling faces and everybody was watching silently. 

For some of them, it didn't matter what bikes they were on, v-twins, single cylinders, and even cafe racers. All of them were having fun, all of them were riding. It came to a point that every weekend, I would see them hang around Marikina, a bar named Ruins. They would rock the streets of shoe ave. Until the police came. 

Even on rainy days, nothing will stop them from riding. Wet as they seem, they still continue to ride the streets while others hide below a footbridge as the rains pour heavily on the streets of Manila.

But one day, I never saw them again. Nobody would even believe my stories of how these men looked like. Ruins became a billiard bar, no more rocking and no more bikers. 

It was as if everything changed in an instant. The flaming skills on a cross were no where to be seen again on the streets of Marikina. Where are they? Are they still riding like they used to? I hope that they're doing fine, and I hope that I see them again ride.

Once again, I hope they are safe.