Weasels are not a motorcycle club. We are not a gang, mob, syndicate, ring, or crew. We are a state of mind. The Weasels are a drinking Association with a motorcycle problem. We're not good role-models; not well-mannered; and not organized enough to tie our own shoes... especially on Weasel Wednesdays... We are a gaggle of open-minded, large-mouthed, foul-smelling mustelids, societal misfits and jokesters. Weasels dwell in that gray area between outlandish behavior and outright criminality. Weasels enjoy getting together to party and to ride our scoots with total disregard for life, limb or personal property. We have been known to travel great distances in order to over-consume most anything brewed, fermented, or distilled. Weasels make loud, obscene noises intended to frighten small children, old women, and politicians. We are an unsightly orange nuisance and are barred from many reputable drinking establishments in the state. We could have been "street people" but took an even lower road. We're proud to be Weasels and are liberated by the lifestyle. We worked damned hard to get here... wherever the hell we are. Accept no imitations, intimations or limitations. We are the cream of the crop and the scum of the earth... on top of the world and at the bottom of the barrel -- an oak one.

Mom is so proud!

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