Before the cheap times and the legend that followed... I met Lucky, in his jersey, talked about santa monica and how he had no one to drink with..
When he met us, we took him in. We took him to his first friscos, and still no drinky, cuz we "were riding"
So I introduced him to the drunk squad, had shots of tequila, remy w chris, yager and beer, I asked him if he was down to go to the farm, he said whats that? Rode to the farm that thurs... he was just another newbie, but after he was introduced to everyone, and we went to rosarito... we knew he would be a party all his own. When he was voted in it was a great day,
When I left for the Carolinas, he cried for me, and I was sad that I was leaving him and the crew in Calif. I have TUGBOAT, a living memory, of the love he had for dogs, a reminder of what a good friend he was. We were down to stab it up or shoot em down anytime. We proved that to each other, so I knew there was nothing we wouldn't do. It seems like just yesterday....
He then moved on to the gardena guys, the new friends, the old Santa Monica clik, He was urrounded by those who loved him. In the end, I know he knows what true love felt like. Family is more than a shared drink. Those who live together, cry together and are down for each other know what true friendship is.
To my friend, to my brother Mr. Lucky 1
a moment of silence...
