So one afternoon, she marched right up to the clubhouse door and knocked.

A massive biker answered — six-foot-four, beard down to his chest, tattoos everywhere, looking like he ate brake pads for breakfast.

The old lady smiled and said,
“I’m here to join your club.”

The biker burst out laughing but decided to play along.

“Alright, Grandma… first question: you got a motorcycle?”

“Sure do,” she replied proudly, pointing to a jet-black Harley chopper outside.
“Customized it myself. The flames add ten horsepower.”

The biker raised an eyebrow.

“Okay… do you drink?”

“Drink?” she snorted.
“Sonny, I once beat three Marines, a bartender, and my second husband in a tequila contest.”

Now the biker was impressed.

“Do you smoke?”

“Like a freight train,” she replied.
“Four packs a day, two cigars after dinner, and sometimes a little something extra when bingo gets stressful.”

The biker grinned.
“Damn, Granny… you sound tougher than half the guys in here.”

Then he leaned closer and asked,
“One last thing… have you ever been picked up by the cops?”

The little old lady paused, thought carefully, then said:

“Nope… but I have been lifted by my ankles behind the bowling alley in 1962… and honey, that boy still sends me Christmas cards.”🤣😂