Your questions, our judgment. Let’s hope you survive.
Dear SAA,
I called a 1%er “bro.” Now I have to chew my food on one side. What do I do?
—Gumby in Glendale
Dear Gumby,
Congratulations! You’ve just completed the first semester of Street Survival 101. Calling a 1%er “bro” is like calling a drill sergeant “sweetie” — technically possible, but spiritually suicidal. For now, stick to soft foods and humility. Next time, maybe try “sir” and back away slowly.
Dear SAA,
My girl wore a patch on her purse and now no one will talk to me.
—Patchless in Pasadena
Dear Patchless,
Ah yes, the sacred tradition of “accidentally declaring war.” Putting a patch on a purse is like tattooing a gang symbol on a chihuahua. It may be tiny, but the disrespect is massive. Best course of action? Burn the purse, apologize profusely, and consider entering Witness Protection.
Dear SAA,
I showed up to a Club event in a Sons of Anarchy t-shirt. Was that bad?
—TV Tough Guy
Dear Tough Guy,
Oh, just a little. That’s like showing up to a Marine Corps ball in a G.I. Joe costume. Next time, just wear a sign that says “Please ridicule me.” Bonus points if you asked when the next episode drops.
Dear SAA,
I tried to impress a club by talking about my Honda. One guy hasn’t blinked in 15 minutes.
—Running on Rice
Dear Running,
You didn’t talk about your Honda. You confessed to riding a war crime. While some clubs are cool with imports, bringing it up at the wrong table is like telling cowboys you love tofu. Just…don’t.
Dear SAA,
I tried to give myself a road name. I even printed business cards.
—”Viper”
Dear Viper,
Stop. Just stop. Giving yourself a road name is like giving yourself a nickname in prison — desperate and likely to end badly. You’re lucky if your new name isn’t now “Clipboard.” Burn the cards and pray they never find out.
Dear SAA,
I parked in the middle of a Club’s bike line because it was the only spot in the shade.
—Hot and Hunted
Dear Hot,
You are what’s called a learning opportunity. Do not, under any circumstances, ever — EVER — wedge your softtail between a line of patched bikes unless you’ve lost your will to live. You’ll be lucky if all you get is a lecture. Shade is temporary. Shame is forever.
Want more misguided misadventures answered with brutal honesty?
Send your questions to Dear SAA and remember — there are no stupid questions, just people with hospital bills.