York Wings: Hello, My Name Is...

I always wanted to be part of a club and experience the brotherhood of like-minded individuals whose passions for two wheeled machines equaled my own. I envisioned the coolness of riding down the highway as part of an untamed motorcycle pack; to rebel against the establishment; to rape and pillage at every village stop; to seize whatever we wanted, and to party into a drunken stupor at the end of every ride with hordes of wild, gorgeous women who wanted to fulfill our every sexual fantasy in godlike worship.

Well, not really; though the biker B movies of the sixties certainly provided many with this slanted perception of what bike clubs were all about. No, what I was looking for was simply to make some new friends that I could ride with. Though I toyed with the idea of starting my own club by formally organizing a group of friends I rode with, somehow it never got past our inability to come up with an appropriate name.

It was the mid seventies when I came across a small advertisement in a paper promoting a motorcycle club I had never heard of before. They called themselves the York Wings MC and met once a month in the lobby of one of York University's campus residences. The ad talked about fellowship, organized rides, and that all

York University Apartments

bikes were welcome. Since I didn't live far away and a meeting night was coming up soon, I decided to check them out.

I showed up at my first meeting a bit early. There were only a few members present and I found it easy to introduce myself. The room was reasonably spacious and could accommodate a fairly large group. Sofas and tables provided some furnishing, and if I remember correctly, there was a sunken floor as well. It was a very informal and cozy meeting room.