03-02-2015, 04:32 AM
The Hideout Saloon is tucked away in a small town called Santa Ysabel, just off of Highway 76 in our local mountains. The day I visited, there was a collection of custom choppers and Harleys parked in a row. Black, weathered skid lids hung from the bars or rested on seats. I had arrived with five other riders on a motley collection of bikes, only one of which seemed to fit the theme. My red, white and blue VFR was not that one.
We found a table inside and put in our orders. It was a cold day and although The Hideout has a nice fireplace, a group of about 6 to 8 of the biggest guys I've ever seen had already taken up positions around it. At least two of the guys had foot-long knives in sheaths strapped to their thighs. Several of their jackets had patches with the number 951. I wasn't sure what the number signified but decided I didn't want to become 952 so I decided to let them enjoy the fireplace and we would stay huddled around the table, shivering in peace.
Our waitress was quite attractive and despite the feeling that a sidewise glance held a second too long could have a disastrous effect in a place like this, I relaxed and decided to just soak it all in and let whatever was going to happen, happen. Two large dogs roamed freely from table to table. The roughnecks around the fireplace seemed to be having a good time. At the first bite of my half-pound Angus burger, I knew I'd be coming back. Fantastic. Our own group settled in nicely and soon, stories of past misadventures, bad jokes, and motorcycles flowed.
I sure could go for a ride and a burger!
We found a table inside and put in our orders. It was a cold day and although The Hideout has a nice fireplace, a group of about 6 to 8 of the biggest guys I've ever seen had already taken up positions around it. At least two of the guys had foot-long knives in sheaths strapped to their thighs. Several of their jackets had patches with the number 951. I wasn't sure what the number signified but decided I didn't want to become 952 so I decided to let them enjoy the fireplace and we would stay huddled around the table, shivering in peace.
Our waitress was quite attractive and despite the feeling that a sidewise glance held a second too long could have a disastrous effect in a place like this, I relaxed and decided to just soak it all in and let whatever was going to happen, happen. Two large dogs roamed freely from table to table. The roughnecks around the fireplace seemed to be having a good time. At the first bite of my half-pound Angus burger, I knew I'd be coming back. Fantastic. Our own group settled in nicely and soon, stories of past misadventures, bad jokes, and motorcycles flowed.
I sure could go for a ride and a burger!