You Can Run but You Can't Hide

You Can Run but You Can't Hide by Duane Dog Chapman Read Free Book Online

Book: You Can Run but You Can't Hide by Duane Dog Chapman Read Free Book Online
Authors: Duane Dog Chapman
waiting to see what happened next, be-
    cause once again I was calling out the president of the Disciples. I
    had to take a stand and demand respect or I would always be a
    punk to these guys.
    Hudat looked around at the other guys in the room, and a grin
    came across his face. He suddenly broke out laughing.
    “Somebody give this Dog his colors already,” he said, shaking
    his head.
    Even though I was only sixteen, I wanted to be a presence in the
    club. I set a new standard for everyone else to be compared to. If the
    guys were drinking, then I drank them under the table. If the guys
    were smoking weed, then I smoked twice as much as they did. If a
    fight broke out, I hit harder than anyone else.
    I took Little Pat’s position as sergeant at arms about a year later,
    on February 6, 1970. It was a great honor. I was as proud as could
    be. Pat and I never ended up scrapping. When he backed down from
    me, he lost the Disciples’ respect, and once that happened, he was
    finished.
    The guys started calling me the comic-book biker because of my
    striking, over-the-top appearance in black leather and sparkling,
    polished chrome. I put a lot of thought and effort into my uniform.
    I made sure the straps on my boots were braided leather and my
    belt buckle was polished chrome master link.
    My reputation was sealed because of my constant robbing and
    stealing. On a good day, I could scratch together as much as a grand
    before dinner. I made all of my money rolling hippies, because they
    were easy targets. They were always looking for drugs. Tom Tom
    and I rode our scooters down from Phoenix, along with a couple of
    32
    Yo u Ca n R u n , b u t Yo u Ca n ’ t H i d e
    the other guys, and cruised for a week, pretending to be drug deal-
    ers. Nearby towns, like Santa Fe, Albuquerque, Grants, Sedona,
    and Gallup, were packed with hippie communes and camps. I’d
    bring along a couple changes of clothes, and right before we’d bust
    into town, I’d exchange my oily leathers for a tie-dyed shirt and a
    pair of Levi’s. I blended in perfectly with all the rest of the hippies.
    I’d start talking to everyone. We’d become fast friends. They never
    had any idea I was setting them up. It was too damn easy.
    My job was to track down who wanted to score the most dope
    and who had access to the most cash. My story was always the
    same. I’d say a buddy had come across a large quantity of high-
    grade Mexican weed that we had to unload. I’d tell them we were
    willing to pass it on to them for a great deal because we were in a
    hurry to dump the dope. If they started getting cold feet, I’d whip
    out a joint and get them stoned.
    You’d think most hippies were easygoing, but these guys were
    stingy when it came to drug deals. All I could do was stand and
    wait. I called it the silent close. I didn’t want to break character and
    blow the deal. I quietly waited until they said yes. And they always
    said yes. It was pretty amazing how a group of dirty hippies dressed
    in rags could suddenly scrape together twelve hundred bucks for
    drugs. The arrangement was always the same. I’d leave and come
    back later with my biker buddies.
    We scared the high out of the hippies when we shoved our guns
    in their faces and took off with the cash and all their drugs, which
    we turned around and sold to other bikers. It was the perfect crime.
    They had nowhere to run. They couldn’t tell the police. Not a
    chance. “Excuse me officer, some bikers took off with our dope
    money.”
    As far as my parents were concerned, I was still working hard
    at a logging company. They might have suspected I was in with the
    Disciples, but they definitely didn’t know where all my money was
    coming from. I was flush with cash. I spared no expense on my
    bike, and I even bought a couple of cars. Whenever I got the chance,
    I’d jump on my bike and head up to Denver to spend time with my
    girlfriend, Debbie.
    During one such trip, I went over to the mall to waste

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