While some might see a group of hooligans, youths, or thieves, I see a group of explorers and adventurers. I won’t lie, I didn’t always have this view of MSBG (Middle School Biker Gang), but as I pondered more, I began to wonder if there is more to them than meets the eye. I had so many questions about this group: Where are their parents? Who is funding these state-of-the-art bikes? What is their goal? Who sent them? With all  these unanswered questions, my curiosity grew and I knew I had to get to the bottom of all this. 

I devised a very well-thought-out plan to infiltrate the group by putting on my best and brightest pair of neon Nike shorts, highest white socks, and finest black t-shirt. And, of course, I couldn’t forget a massive pair of Under Armour sneakers. Next, I needed an interception point. Where was I going to find them? This was easy. I went to the place where I knew they would be: outside Libs. As I aimlessly walked around, it did not take long to hear them blasting “Not Like Us” by Kendrick Lamar. 

When they rounded the corner, I started to bop my head to the beat while walking with a certain swag. I nailed the mannerisms, and soon the group leaders stopped and said, “Bro, you know this song? Type shit.” Then, as nonchalantly as possible, I said, “Yeah bro, I’ve been on this for a while.” He responded, “Facts, I’m Jake, what’s your name?” and proceeded to dap me up. I said, “Kyler.” He said, “Kyler, you’re chill, bro.” He turned around and said, “Yo Chuck, get off your ride and go home, Kyler’s coming with us.” I watched as Chuck—looking quite defeated—got off his bike and walked it over to me before sulking away. For the rest of the day, we rode around, tearing up the Davidson College campus. I must have made a good impression because by the end of the day, Jake, the group leader, put me in their Snapchat group chat (which Chuck had already been removed from). Clearly, they run quite the cutthroat organization. Jake told me to keep the bike and meet them by milkbread after school the following day before proceeding to dap me up once again. 

That night, my Snap had never blown up more. I got hundreds of messages from the group chat, which included pictures of their moms. They were all complaining that she was making them do their homework and they couldn’t play Fortnite. I also got pictures of their dogs shitting in their backyards, many, many feet pictures, lengthy opinions of the new Kendrick album, and much more. 

The next day, I met up with all the guys at milkbread and rode around with them. That night, the group chat was blowing up once again. This pattern continued for a week. Each day during this week, I was analyzing them, trying to find answers, taking note of the whereabouts of their parents and how they would speak to each other. Many of the jokes revolved around their basketball coach, Coach Pete, whom they call Coach Yeet because they “yeet” basketballs at him during practice. They consistently refer to his house as Yeetersville, population 1, when they ridicule him for being forty-three and single. 

After my first few days with the crew, Jake came up to me as they were about to ride away into the Lake Norman sunset to go back to their respective gated communities. He said that I had to go to the Labyrinth at midnight. He was very cryptic and quiet when he said this. That night, the group chat was silent. I had a weird feeling about what was going to happen. 11:55 PM comes around and I pedal over to the location. When I get there, I see a faint glow coming from the  

trees. I walk up and they are all standing in a circle, each holding a candle and wearing a long black robe. I see Jake in the middle of the circle, waiting for me to approach him. I walk up and he recites a speech about friendship. He describes the memories that we have made this past week and how much he values my friendship. Genuinely touched, I start to tear up and, to my surprise, so does he. At the end of the speech he said, “I, Pedal, welcome thee to The Order of the Handlebar. Your name from here on out will be Training Wheels.” He lifted up a handlebar and tapped both of my shoulders and then my head. After the ceremony was complete, they started to blast their anthem “Not Like Us,” and Pedal took out a twelve-pack of root beer and handed one out to each boy. We stood in a smaller circle and shotgunned them. After that, we moshed in the middle of the Labyrinth, the epitome of boyhood. 

Kathleen Degnan ‘27 is a Motor Vehicle major from Chatham, NJ. She can be reached for comment at [email protected].

While some might see a group of hooligans, youths, or thieves, I see a group of explorers and adventurers. I won’t lie, I didn’t always have this view of MSBG (Middle School Biker Gang), but as I pondered more, I began to wonder if there is more to them than meets the eye. I had so many questions about this group: Where are their parents? Who is funding these state-of-the-art bikes? What is their goal? Who sent them? With all  these unanswered questions, my curiosity grew and I knew I had to get to the bottom of all this. 

I devised a very well-thought-out plan to infiltrate the group by putting on my best and brightest pair of neon Nike shorts, highest white socks, and finest black t-shirt. And, of course, I couldn’t forget a massive pair of Under Armour sneakers. Next, I needed an interception point. Where was I going to find them? This was easy. I went to the place where I knew they would be: outside Libs. As I aimlessly walked around, it did not take long to hear them blasting “Not Like Us” by Kendrick Lamar. 

When they rounded the corner, I started to bop my head to the beat while walking with a certain swag. I nailed the mannerisms, and soon the group leaders stopped and said, “Bro, you know this song? Type shit.” Then, as nonchalantly as possible, I said, “Yeah bro, I’ve been on this for a while.” He responded, “Facts, I’m Jake, what’s your name?” and proceeded to dap me up. I said, “Kyler.” He said, “Kyler, you’re chill, bro.” He turned around and said, “Yo Chuck, get off your ride and go home, Kyler’s coming with us.” I watched as Chuck—looking quite defeated—got off his bike and walked it over to me before sulking away. For the rest of the day, we rode around, tearing up the Davidson College campus. I must have made a good impression because by the end of the day, Jake, the group leader, put me in their Snapchat group chat (which Chuck had already been removed from). Clearly, they run quite the cutthroat organization. Jake told me to keep the bike and meet them by milkbread after school the following day before proceeding to dap me up once again. 

That night, my Snap had never blown up more. I got hundreds of messages from the group chat, which included pictures of their moms. They were all complaining that she was making them do their homework and they couldn’t play Fortnite. I also got pictures of their dogs shitting in their backyards, many, many feet pictures, lengthy opinions of the new Kendrick album, and much more. 

The next day, I met up with all the guys at milkbread and rode around with them. That night, the group chat was blowing up once again. This pattern continued for a week. Each day during this week, I was analyzing them, trying to find answers, taking note of the whereabouts of their parents and how they would speak to each other. Many of the jokes revolved around their basketball coach, Coach Pete, whom they call Coach Yeet because they “yeet” basketballs at him during practice. They consistently refer to his house as Yeetersville, population 1, when they ridicule him for being forty-three and single. 

After my first few days with the crew, Jake came up to me as they were about to ride away into the Lake Norman sunset to go back to their respective gated communities. He said that I had to go to the Labyrinth at midnight. He was very cryptic and quiet when he said this. That night, the group chat was silent. I had a weird feeling about what was going to happen. 11:55 PM comes around and I pedal over to the location. When I get there, I see a faint glow coming from the  

trees. I walk up and they are all standing in a circle, each holding a candle and wearing a long black robe. I see Jake in the middle of the circle, waiting for me to approach him. I walk up and he recites a speech about friendship. He describes the memories that we have made this past week and how much he values my friendship. Genuinely touched, I start to tear up and, to my surprise, so does he. At the end of the speech he said, “I, Pedal, welcome thee to The Order of the Handlebar. Your name from here on out will be Training Wheels.” He lifted up a handlebar and tapped both of my shoulders and then my head. After the ceremony was complete, they started to blast their anthem “Not Like Us,” and Pedal took out a twelve-pack of root beer and handed one out to each boy. We stood in a smaller circle and shotgunned them. After that, we moshed in the middle of the Labyrinth, the epitome of boyhood. 

Kathleen Degnan ‘27 is a Motor Vehicle major from Chatham, NJ. She can be reached for comment at [email protected].