Bone Crushers

 Cape Buffalo in Tanzania - photo by JoAnn Sturman

Scott Sturman
fliesinyoureyes.com

The summer temperatures are torrid in Arizona’s Sonoran Desert, and to escape them requires traveling to the mountains and cooler temperatures.  Tucson is surrounded by 9000 feet high clumps of peaks separated by the desert: the Santa Catalinas, the Rincons, and the Santa Ritas.  Only the high elevations of Mt. Lemon in the Santa Calatinas are accessible by automobile, but they are inundated with people due to the proximity to Tucson; the other areas require a backpack and a strong pair of legs.  Real relief comes from avoiding crowds as well the heat.

When my friend Jeff sent me an email advertising the lodge at Hannagan Meadow in Arizona’s White Mountains, it brought back memories of our group’s favorite retreat.  Near the central Arizona-New Mexico border and 275 miles east of Phoenix, it rests at over 9000 feet with summer daytime temperatures in the 70’s.  To get there required effort, a six hour 240 mile drive, with much of the route north of Morenci along curvy mountain roads.  It was worth it to be in a quiet place among the tall trees far away from the desert.

In the 1970’s Hannagan Meadow consisted of one rustic lodge with a bar and pool table and a few primitive one room cabins.  Our group of 8-10 was frequently the only ones at the Meadow, and we pitched our tents in the campground a short distance away and walked to the lodge to have dinner, play pool, and drink a few cold ones.  Every summer morning began clear and cool, but by the afternoon huge thunder clouds would form over the mountains and bring afternoon showers.  It was a good time to crawl into the tent and take a nap for a couple hours until the clouds dissipated and the sun returned.  Life at Hannagan Meadow was peaceful and very slow paced.

One August of particularly unbearable heat, my girl friend and I decided on the spur of the moment to spend the weekend at Hannagan Meadow.  We left late Friday afternoon and arrived at the campsite after midnight.  That next morning we hiked around the area and found we were the only visitors.

We walked downhill to the lodge and sat at one of the empty tables for lunch; only a bartender and the cook/waiter/manager were working.  The waiter approached our table, “Howdy.  Would you like a hot dog or a hamburger with fries?”

No sooner did we finish lunch and start to play a game of pool, when we heard the roar of Harley Davidson's approaching the lodge from Highway 666.  Eight motorcycles ridden by huge scruffy men screeched to a stop in the parking lot.  Each was adorned with leather pants, sleeveless T-shirts, a large caliber pistol on the belt, and innumerable skull and cross bones and other anti social insignia.  This was Phoenix’s Bone Crusher motorcycle gang out for a weekend search and destroy mission.

They barged through the door like a German Panzer division.

“Bar tender, you got anything to drink?” shouted the leader.

“Yes, sir,” he replied.

“Give me a whiskey and put it in a mug.  I wanna get drunk, and if I don’t, you’ll be one sorry mother fucker.”

“Yes, sir.”

He took the mug of whiskey and drained it.  “Not bad, bar keep.  Give me another.” The others followed suit, ordering enough alcohol to put all of Phoenix into a coma.

After his thirst was quenched, the leader asked the bar tender, “Where are the wild women in Hannagan Meadow.  We want to get laid.”

“Ain’t no women here at the Meadow, sir.”

“Well, what do you do for fun here?”

“I like to sleep, sir.  I come here to sleep sixteen hours a day.”

“Holy shit, boy.  You’re a regular Rip Van Winkle.”  His partners laughed at their leader’s witty remark and impressive knowledge of American literature.

“If there ain’t any women here, then where can we get in a fight?” he asked, as his eyes gazed toward the pool table.

“Ain’t nobody here who wants to fight you, sir.  Would you like another drink?”

“You’re damned right I do and this one better be strong, real strong.”

“Hey, you, playin’ pool.  That’s a good lookin’ woman you’re with.  I bet she’d like to be with a real man for a change.”

“Yeah, she is pretty.  Look, we don’t want any trouble.  We’re here for lunch just like you guys.”

“What makes you think we’re lookin’ for trouble?   Me and the boys are just out for ride and some clean mountain air.”

Who was this clown trying to fool?  Intimidation was life’s blood for him and his stooges.  They would ride en masse into these isolated mountain retreats where there was no law enforcement, brandishing more arms than a special forces unit and have their fun.  Woe to any woman who caught their attention or man fool enough to tangle with them.

“Like I said we’re minding our own business, but in case you don’t understand, my girl friend and I are both Air Force officers.  She’s a nurse and I’m a pilot.  If anything happens to us, Arizona cops don’t like it when bad things happen to people serving their country in the military.  They’ll hunt you down like animals and ask questions later.  Now we’re going to pay our bill and be on our way.”

We passed through the gauntlet of drunken, reeking bikers, left the bar, and headed in the opposite direction of our camp.  Once we were out of sight of the lodge, we doubled back through the woods and found our camp.  An hour later we heard the motorcycles leaving Hannagan Meadow in search of wild women, fights, and more good old fashioned fun.