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1986 Bellingham, Massachusetts.

A rag tag band of two stroke misfits terrorize the New England Hare Scramble series with their loud behavior, foul
t-shirts and violent displays of non stop roosting. The weak tremble as clapped out KTM's wail through the streets dragging corpses and wheeling over baby carriages (not really but doesn’t that sound fucking cool?)
Whole villages take refuge in churches as the FAHQ minions wad themselves up into fleshy balls of scab, drunk and psychotic, refusing medical treatment. (This is such a line of shit but I’m on a roll)
With vacant stares and throbbing headaches, the group begins to fragment till a mere shadow of what was begins to dissipate.

The cult is born. A process of elimination peels back the bad ones, and one moves west. Spreading the word is easy. The youth of America are dry like sponge’s in the desert and they meld onto every step of the march. There is mud to be moved, rocks to be thrown and knobs that crave attention. Like a comet, at warp speed….

Ah…fuck this. THIS IS FAHQ.

Love us or hate us, the name remains the same.

Jerry
President for Life - FAHQ M.C.

In memory of Frankie Bernardo.

Your presence here is a tribute to the departed and a ministry to the living.

FAHQ MC is not just for motorcycle riders. Dirt bikes are the ultimate crossover recreation. We embrace all forms of action sports….SnoCross, Mixed Martial Arts, Skateboarding, Firing Weapons just to name a few, but not Fruit Booting
(Roller Blading), yea not that.