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The pounding beats of the Pink Trinkets’ latest album, Singing Mammogram, blared from speakers set up on the Iron Goddess back lot. Around the perimeter, vendors were selling riding gear, embroidered patches, and motorcycle insurance.
Rows of Iron Goddess motorcycles gleamed under the overhead lights. Dozens more bikes belonging to attendees filled the rest of the lot and choked the surrounding side streets.
Shea nursed a bottle of Sam Adams from the comfort of a lounge chair, watching the growing mass of people circulate through the assortment of chrome and steel. Jessica sat beside her sipping a bottle of water, while Annie sat on the ground playing a handheld video game.
Terrance breezed by carrying a case of bottled water.
“Not a bad turnout, eh, T?” asked Shea.
Terrance set d
