Hell’s Angels… With Croquet Mallets: The “Gilded Gauntlet” of Palm Beach

Palm Beach Island, FL – Forget the thunder of roaring engines and the glint of chrome. On the manicured lawns and pastel-hued avenues of Palm Beach Island, a different kind of rumble is being felt, a gentle yet persistent purr emanating from a newly formed motorcycle collective: The Gilded Gauntlet Motorcycle Enthusiast Society (GG MES).

These aren’t your typical leather-clad rebels. Think more bespoke Italian leather riding gloves and helmets artfully adorned with vintage silk scarves. Their “clubhouse” is rumored to be a sprawling, albeit slightly dusty, tennis pavilion on a sprawling estate, and their preferred mode of transport? Immaculately maintained vintage scooters and meticulously polished, low-rider bicycles with surprisingly loud (and melodic) bicycle bells.

The GG MES, a motley crew of retirees with a newfound zest for open-air cruising and a shared disdain for early bird specials, has been causing a delightful stir amongst the island’s usual denizens. Their “runs” typically involve a leisurely pedal along the Lake Trail, stopping for artisanal gelato and spirited debates on the proper way to fold a pocket square.

“We’re bringing a bit of… texture to the island,” chuckled Bartholomew “Barty” Butterfield III, the self-proclaimed “Road Captain,” adjusting his ascot. “Frankly, all this pastel was starting to feel a tad monotonous. We’re injecting a bit of… beige.”

Their initiation rituals are the stuff of local legend. Forget fire-lit oaths and branding irons; prospective members must successfully navigate the roundabout at Royal Poinciana Way without causing a fender-bender (a feat considered Herculean by some residents) and demonstrate a comprehensive knowledge of vintage cocktail recipes.

The “turf wars” of the Gilded Gauntlet are equally unique. A recent “disagreement” with a rival birdwatching society over prime viewing spots near the Breakers escalated into a fiercely contested (and surprisingly polite) game of competitive croquet on a perfectly manicured lawn. Eyewitnesses report heated whispers about “mallet etiquette” and accusations of “unsporting flamingo placement.”

Their “wild parties” are less about keg stands and more about refined garden soirees featuring cucumber sandwiches, chilled champagne, and lively discussions on the latest Sotheby’s auction. The music of choice? Upbeat ragtime and the occasional (slightly off-key) ukulele singalong.

Of course, their presence hasn’t been entirely without its… adjustments. The local constabulary, accustomed to dealing with errant golf carts and the occasional misplaced yacht, have been bemused by the GG MES’s insistence on forming a “rolling barricade” during their slow-paced processions, much to the mild annoyance of hurried landscaping crews.

“They’re… certainly something,” commented Officer Higgins, polishing his spectacles. “Loudest thing about ’em is usually their floral-print cycling shorts. And their bicycle bells. Heavens, those bells.”

Despite the gentle disruption, there’s a certain undeniable charm to the Gilded Gauntlet. They represent a playful rebellion against the island’s often-staid image, a reminder that even in the most exclusive enclaves, there’s room for a little lighthearted absurdity. So, if you happen to be strolling along Worth Avenue and hear the faint chime of bicycle bells and the distant strains of a ukulele, fear not. It’s just the Gilded Gauntlet, spreading their own unique brand of cheerful chaos across the sun-drenched paradise of Palm Beach.