Bandidos Motorcycle Club Three-Day Conclave Ends Without Incident

Bandidos Leader Jeffrey Fay Pike Arrested in San Antonio in 2015

After several days of touring the city in packs of 6 to 20 bikers, roaming down Boca Chica, Highway 48 and International Boulevard into Mexico, the rough and tough riders of the Bandidos Motorcycle Club have concluded their three day meeting in a huge field at the corner of Wayito Road and North Minnesota Avenue in Brownsville. 

Nena and I, intrigued by the handmade signs with "BFFB," followed by an arrow and the sheer number of motorcycles seemingly on the road, followed the bikers into an entrance, manned by four tattooed, leather-vested skinheads.

I politely approached one of the men checking I.D.'s at the entrance.

He rudely told me to "get in your car and move on!"

When I asked if he could just tell me the meaning "BFFB," he screamed:  "I SAID MOVE ON!!!!"

Since Wayito Road is a public right-of-way, I drove down along the edge of a fence.  Inside were hundreds of motorcycles neatly parked surrounded by Port-a-potties.  Men in leather vests, with "BFFM" stitched on the back, congregated in the empty spaces between bikes, accompanied by equally tough-looking women.  

When I positioned myself along the fence to try to get as many motorcycles in my Nikon L-820 as possible, I saw a man running toward me.

The totally illustrated man, with tattoos covering his neck, shoulders and arms, came out of a late model car with Arkansas plates.

"I hope you're not trying to take a picture!" he shouted.  

I explained that I'd never seen so many motorcycles in one place and was taking a pic for my grandson.  

"Get approval from the men at the entrance first!" he said firmly. 

"Could you just tell me what "BFFB" stands for?" I asked.

 "We're just a typical motorcycle club, that's all," he answered.

One more time, I asked:  "But what do the initials stand for?"

"Bandidos forever, forever Bandidos.  Now, if you want to know anything else, go to the guys at the front."

Noticing his fists were clenched and getting the vibe of his threatening demeanor, I got back into my car. It didn't seem like a good time to let him know that I'd lived in Arkansas thirty years, could "Call the Hogs" and personally knew Bill Clinton.

On the way out, I noticed license plates from Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Missouri and Tennessee.  

"Have a great party, assholes," I shouted, well out of earshot, traveling down North Minnesota Avenue.

I forgot to look for the number "13" on the vest of the Bandito from Arkansas.  That would have indicated he was dealing drugs.

The D.E.A. has been investigating, infiltrating and and arresting Bandidos for some time.  The club has also engaged in bitter battles with other outlaw biker gangs, one war over a stolen leather Bandito vest.