Bandit woke the next morning with a start. Emotionally beat-up he struggled with depressing thoughts of the future. He couldn’t figure how society could be living in the best of times, yet some folks were making it the worst.
He showered and scrambled down stairs. The crew made their way quietly around the Cantina as if in a thoughtful daze.
The Chinaman brought him a bowl of Chorizo and eggs, plus hot buttered corn tortillas. He sat quietly when Margaret approached with a steaming cup of coffee.
“I’m working on some info for the pamphlet,” Margaret said and studied Bandit’s features. He wasn’t the type of guy to give up or even step back from a fight.
Bandit looked up and smiled. “We’re going to do something or die trying.”
Margaret grinned. “That’s what I wanted to hear. The data is all over the place. Polar bears aren’t dying off. There’s more than ever before. Sea levels aren’t doing anything different historically. The use of oil has helped the levels of CO2 which feeds plant life.”
“Fuck it, let’s do something quick,” Bandit said. “Put together a draft of informative info, then let’s pare it down to something easy to read.”
Just after lunch, Jeremiah and “Tileman” James stormed into the Cantina. “The CARB (California Air Resources Board) people are preventing anything performance from being sold in California.”
“The fines are so heavy,” James piped in. “It will put lots of shops out of business.”
“Can I get you guys a Corona,” Bandit said and motioned to bubbly Mandy. He thought about all the automotive shops, bike shops, rebuild centers, junk yards, muffler shops, dealers and radiator shops. Everywhere he looked were oil producers, sellers and shops.
“You know CARB’s enforcement isn’t valid,” Bandit said. He knew that wouldn’t mean anything to the guys on the street or shop owners. They didn’t know. “It’s all based on lies.”
Marko recognized the angst in Bandit’s voice. The man was in an action mode, when the rumble of motorcycles filled the air on the dock outside.
Bandit stood up and Marko sauntered to his side. It was too early for a gang of riders to show up at the Cantina. Like two warriors waiting behind the gates they listened intently as the bikes shut-off. Margaret, standing behind the bar, her eyes wide and alert, glanced at her loaded shotgun under the thick oak bar-top.
The doors shoved open and the big outlaw, Pablo, from the other night with four brothers stepped inside. Plus the boss of the local motorcycle rights organization, Billy, and a dozen of his members followed.
“What’s for breakfast,” the brother said. “We’re here for grub and action.” Mandy, Tina and Margaret tingled to their toes.
“Let’s rock,” Bandit said to Marko who made a beeline to the galley and the Chinaman’s crew.
“Take any seats you like,” Bandit said. “Chow’s comin’.”
Billy stepped forward, his long beard wind-whipped, and he yanked off his shades and his eyes shined bright and direct. “Look what I found, shared with my guys and all the club guys we could find,” Billy said and handed Bandit a pile of folded fliers from the CO2 Coalition. “This spells out the truth about CO2 and our rides.”
Margret jogged around the bar to see what all the excitement was about. Small an athletic she carried a deep sense of calm and progressiveness. Shit got done when she was around.
“So, what do you have in mind,” Billy said. “Our guys get it now.”
“We were going to ride to a college,” Bandit said, “and hand out fliers, but I’m afraid that might just cause another problem. The last thing we want at this point is a fight between bikers and college students. We need a leader and a national stage.”
“It’s all about folks taking advantage of ignorance,” Pablo kicked in. “My guys knew something was wrong, but they didn’t know what. These fliers explained it all.”
“We are connected with Motorcycle Rights Groups all over the world,” Billy said. “But what’s the program?”
Bandit looked at the crew and thought deeply. “We need to break the Doomsday Code,” he said.
“What’s the code?” Pablo questioned.
“There’s only one reason bureaucrats are taking over our lives, correct?” Bandit said.
“It’s all about control,” Marko said, always confident.
“But there’s justification for the control, correct?” Bandit pushed.
“Were doomed, if we don’t act immediately and destroy the fossil fuel industry,” Margaret piped up.
“Exactly, but is that the case?” Bandit said.
“Not according to experts,” Billy said.
“So, how the hell do we force the truth to the surface?” Bandit continued to question. “Even the media is pushing the narrative of doomsday.”
“What if we created a resolution and placed it before congress?” Billy said.
“We would need a coalition of supporting groups,” Bandit said, “and you could help. I’m afraid we need a serious political leader, who is willing to step up. Remember we’re only looking for the truth.”
“Who’s going to write this resolution?” Marko spouted as if they needed to find the Holy Grail on top of a mountain.
“You are,” Bandit barked. “We all are. Billy, can you email me some resolution examples. Marko and I will rough something out. We also need to build on this coalition. Motorcycle and even automotive groups need to sign-up.”
Chinaman and his crew burst through the galley doors carrying a breakfast feast for the brothers of fresh fruit, shrimp enchiladas, chicken tacos, chorizo with eggs and the crew dug in.
They feasted on hearty chow and enjoyed the comradery of brothers on a mission, but Bandit looked at Marko with a stern face. “There’s no hope for honest leadership in California,” Bandit muttered. We may need to get the hell out of this state.”
“Where the hell would we go?” Marko said. “How about Montana.”
“Scary shit there,” Billy piped up. “Did you hear?”
“Yep,” Bandit said. “Even the Republicans buckled in Montana. A bunch of kids funded by alarmist groups sued the state for control of all the petroleum energy based on Climate doom. They won the first round.”
“It is all about the truth,” Billy said.
“There’s another issue,” The big Pablo piped up. “Most legislators don’t allow you to contact them unless you’re in their zip code. We couldn’t reach out if were able to save their lives.”
“Hey,” Bandit said in the direction of Margaret. “Get the girls, and the Chinamen’s crew. The dining room quickly filled with staff.
“As you know California is crumbling because they want it to crumble. They don’t like home ownership, capitalism, so they lure the homeless here and kill them with drugs. And you know they are coming after all transportation and oil related products, which is virtually everything from spandex to medicine. We need to find someone, somewhere, who has the balls to demand the truth. Would you come with me?”
“Would we remain a team?” the Chinaman asked.
“You damn right,” Bandit said.
“But where would we go?” Marko asked, knowing full well how Bandit would respond.
“There’s only one place to go on this planet,” Bandit said. “Sturgis, South Dakota.”
The brothers erupted in applause and jumped to their feet. “But how do you know you can find the leadership to make a difference in Sturgis?” Billy asked, pulling on his long gray beard.
“I don’t,” Bandit said, “but folks are trying to destroy this state and no one is stopping them. At least we have a shot at making a difference in South Dakota. We gotta do something or die trying, besides, if you’re with me, it sounds like a helluva adventure.”
“Make a list,” Marko said. “Let’s get started.” He punched Bandit in the arm and the brothers laughed. Margaret ran for a clipboard and a felt pen…
