So you’ve been hanging around the Club. You’ve shared some laughs, bought some rounds, maybe helped wrench on a bike or two. And now you’re thinking—maybe it’s time to Prospect.
Well, hold the fuck up.
Before you take that step, you need to understand something real: Prospecting isn’t just some casual “next level.” It’s the point where shit gets real, and if you go in blind, thinking it’s all parties and patches, you’re in for a brutal wake-up call.
Let’s be honest—the hangaround phase is the fun part. You get to show up, help out, enjoy the parties, and be part of the crowd—without actually being part of the family. No responsibility. No expectations. But also, no loyalty owed to you. If something goes down, you’re on your own. The Club doesn’t owe you protection. You’re not in.
And they’re watching you, hard. Every comment, every choice, every mistake. They’re deciding if you’re brother material. And here’s the truth: If you’re hanging around multiple clubs trying to shop for the “coolest patch,” you’re already failing. You “always dance with the one who brung ya.”
You’re signing up for the grind. You will be tested, mentally and physically. You’re going to be treated like the bottom of the barrel—because you are. Not to break you, but to see what you’re made of. Can you take shit without folding? Can you show up at 2am when a brother’s broken down an hour out of town? Can you keep your mouth shut and your ego in check?
You’re going to be expected to:
- Learn every member’s name, job, habits, and history.
- Be available for every event, every run, every meeting.
- Shut up and listen. Your opinions mean jack shit at this stage.
- Watch backs, run errands, hold security, fix what breaks.
- Never leave a Patchholder alone—especially not out of town.
And yeah—initiation ain’t a myth. It’s real. And if you’re lucky, it’ll just be rough. If you’re not, well… good luck.
You’re not entitled to a Patch. You don’t deserve a vote. You don’t get to call anyone “brother.” You’re not part of Club business. You don’t ask about votes, numbers, bylaws, or politics. You are there to serve the Club. If that doesn’t sit right with you, go join a riding group.
And that “road name” you’ve got picked out for yourself? Trash it. You don’t get to name yourself. If the Club gives you one, it’ll be based on something dumb you did, something you survived, or something that just sticks. But you sure as hell don’t get to show up calling yourself “Killer.”
You’re going to sacrifice time with your family, sleep, money, and maybe even your job. Your world will get smaller. Your friends will change. And you’ll start to understand that Brotherhood isn’t a word—it’s earned. Through countless small acts of service, loyalty, respect, and pain.
You’ll get tired. You’ll want to quit. You’ll second guess the whole thing. And if you still keep showing up—early, sober, ready, respectful—then maybe, just maybe, you’ll be handed that Patch.
There’s no shame in walking away. In fact, if you’re not 100% sure this is your path, it’s better you do. But if you are sure—if this life is calling you—then step forward with your eyes open.
Because once you Prospect, you’re not just flirting with the lifestyle anymore.
You’re trying to earn your way into a brotherhood that’ll have your back for life.
Or not.
That part’s up to you.