"Gabe then heard a small voice he hadn't heard in four year… and never expected to hear again.
“Angel…? Angel… it… it’s Cricket. I need you.” The last words broke into a wailing cry.
In the mid-1960s, a group of southern California doctors banded together. They were tired of seeing young girls in their Emergency Rooms, hemorrhaging or worse—from butchers in back alleys. Some of the butchers had some minimal medical training—others had nothing more than a supply of used wire coat hangers, and a lust for fast money.
The doctors bought a large hacienda where they could do abortions safely on the weekends. They just needed a group to transport the young girls across the border—both ways. Theirs, and the girls salvation came in the form of men that would be least expected to do such a thing—hardened bikers.
Every girl was given what looked like a tattoo on their arm—it was their name for the weekend.
Every biker had the same one name—Angel.
Based on events that are best remembered as—the bad days..."