Fifth Chapter at The Wilson House

Finally Living My Dreams....

As my alcoholism rushed down the road toward its final destination. My days were spent in the bars looking at myself in the mirror and thinking “Someday I’ll”. My favorite was; “Someday I’ll ride a Harley through the back roads of Vermont, with a cool breeze blowing through my hair and the rumble of loud pipes in my ears”. I could almost feel it. “Give me another Budweiser!”

At that time my motorcycle was a little Honda 450. Just about every time I went out for a ride I would stop at a bar and eventually down I would go. I would put the bike away until the wounds healed and then I would do it all over again. I did this over and over for 10 years. I spent more time drinking, talking and wishing than riding. I somehow knew that it came down to, "do I want to drink or ride?" The drinking always won out.

In 1986, after being in a lot of trouble with the law over what the police called "my unacceptable drinking habits." It was then that I finally sobered up and joined the fellowship of AA. I just could not live the illusion that it was ever ging to get better.



At the first meeting there were bikers hanging outside the AA club. Here were real men with tattoos, long hair, beards, leathers and colors on the backs. I had short hair, clean shaven, well dressed and a computer programmer besides. InsidI of me there was a feeling that this was where I belonged. After being sober for a year and proving to myself that I could be trusted not to drink and drive anymore, I purchased a new Harley and started riding with the guys at the Friendship Center. The patch on their backs was a set of wings around the Big Book. They called themselves The Fifth Chapter. The name came from the chapter How it Works.

After a month of hanging around I decided to probate for the club. This was a process where I would get coffee for the full patch members and pretty much did what I was told. This was difficult for me as I was not a humble person at the time and having someone say to me “get off my as... and go get coffee”, was not my cup of tea but I did it anyway. After 6 months I was made a full member. I was so proud of my colors and being part of a brotherhood of like-minded sober men was great.

We camped out just about every weekend during the summer all over New England. What fun it was. This was sobriety at its finest; in the wind, loud pipes and great campfire meetings at the end of a long ride with true friends.

During the summer of 1988 we had our National Meeting in Rutland Vermont. What a great time that was. On Sunday morning, 200 of us jumped on our motorcycles and drove to the Wilson House in the sleepy little town of East Dorset. Here was the birthplace of Bill Wilson and he is buried with Lois just down the street. The guests at the Inn, who were sitting quietly on the porch, later said they thought there was a thunderstorm coming. The thunder got louder and closer. What was it? Then we turned the corner and drove down the street in front of the house. The ground was shaking from the noise. We filled up both sides of the street and around the house. Some went inside for a huge AA meeting. Most of us had our own meeting outside. What a great meeting that was. After the meeting about 50 of us rode to Bill’s grave. There were many tears of gratitude on our faces while standing next to his grave marker. This is only one of many gifts that I have been so graciously given in sobriety.


At long last I am doing the things that I had spent so many hours talking about and I owe it all to God for giving me the strength to put down the drink and walk into my first meeting.

Thank God, AA, and the Fifth Chapter for without these three I would still be sitting on that bar stool wondering what life could be like. I am now doing the things that I talked about during in those dark alcoholic days.



Thank you God,
John L Hernando, Florida