Australia - THERE were no raised lances, battle axes or proud pennants, but it was an old fashioned, muscle-and-metal army all the same yesterday morning in Geelong.
The troops' parade ground was the dirt and bitumen apron that serves as the front porch and parking area for the local chapter of the Bandidos clubhouse on Boundary Rd.
And parade they did, in a nonchalant, slouch-shouldered sort of way.
The sun climbed into a blue sky, drinks were sipped, bikes were admired and the police stayed well away.
* Video: Bandidos blast
Not that there was anything about the hours before the mass ride to Melbourne that warranted handcuffs.
If you didn't know of the Bandidos' dark reputation or their recent history of bloody conflict with the rival Rebels gang, there would have been nothing to explain why police were waiting to shut down the road to Melbourne.
It might almost have been a meeting of Rotarians with a taste for fancy dress -- that's how well-behaved they were.
Bikes, boots, beer bellies and beards of biblical proportions were staples of the bikie uniform, along with the Bandidos' orange and red patches, of course.
The horde gave a passable impersonation of upright citizens, something that became obvious when a blonde pulled up beside the hundreds of bikes to collect lunch orders from the takeaway joint beside the clubhouse.
It has been a staple of B-movie fiction since Marlon Brando pouted his way through The Wild One -- the female surrounded by an posse of hulking hairballs.
But yesterday not even a wolf whistle ruffled that office girl's composure.
Same with the cop who cruised past. Not a single head bothered to turn and follow his car's progress.
Why look up from a beer? Like the police chopper overhead, that constable was no threat or challenge, so he was treated to indifference wrapped in arrogance.
Early in the afternoon the big ride began, and that same arrogance was riding pillion on every gleaming machine.
There was no doubt who ruled the road.
In two long lines, the army formed up to roll two abreast over the Barwon and through Geelong, the massed rumble of its exhausts drawing throngs of kerbside gawkers.
Police manned every traffic light to wave the chromed armada through, and scores of extra cops held back motorists on the feeder roads all the way to Southbank.
The Pope couldnt have been treated any better.
Overhead, the jumbo-size police helicopter hung low over the parade while smaller TV choppers darted along the edges.
If the Bandidos enjoyed the attention it was hard to tell.
Like the leathers and club colours, grim expressions are part of this army's uniform.
On the West Gate Bridge, the rumbling column stretched from Williamstown Rd to the summit.
And thanks to the police, the men with the don't-mess-with-me stares enjoyed the sort of run into the CBD that workaday commuters can only dream about.
If good behaviour deserves to be rewarded, it was no less than the Bandidos' due.
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