Let’s Ride, By Sonny Barger
Sonny Barger with Darwin Holstrom
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Free Departments
“In Search of Grace”
It has been two years sinceI met Grace Mckean at the S&S 50th Biker Build Off party. Graceis the coolest 75-year-old biker grandma, who still rides the old Indian shebought 50 years ago. When I met her, she was in Wisconsin, riding acrosscountry alone, and we talked for a long time and she shared
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Bullriders, Bullshit and a Handy Baton
“Bastard,” she swore softly as she returned the phone to its cradle.”Jim, you dumb-fuck, butt-ugly, slacker bastard.” Nice time to back out on a ride, half-hour before they were to hit theroad. Fine. It was only 150 miles; she was going anyway. In reality, shepreferred to ride alone. Setting her own pace, taking the whole
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Rocket Man
No one in the world is as passionate, talented,knowledgeable, and driven when it comes to Indian Motocycles, than KIWI MikeTomas. He’s a warrior when it comes to the competition between Indian andHarley-Davidson. He’s an Indian restoration expert, an engine manufacturer, amachinist, a welder, designer, you name it. Not only does he cherish everyelement of the
Zeek the Splooty meets up with the Red Ribbed Tickler
Some would say “the cock crows at dawn,” but for Zeek the Splooty, the cock had risen and had been rampantall night long. It was 5:00AM. The desert wind blew hot and dry into thedarkened interior of Boron’s Booty Bar. Zeke had blown in two nights ago. Dryas a nun’s twat, the desert air sucked
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The Hacksaw Don’t Cut It.
“Wha?” Hacksaw said into the phone, dazed and half-awake. “Wind ’em up,” the voice on the other end barked so loud Hacksaw hadtohold the phone at arms length. “We’re splitting from the cantina atnoon. You’ve got three hours to be on time. This is your lastchance Hacksaw. Don’t fuck up or you’re out of the
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Loner
Chet May stood at the door of the gas station casually sucking on aroot beer Slurpee as he watched the scene in the gas pump bay. There was nothingremarkable about it. All the players moved about in a practiced manner.Two black and white Riverside patrol cars were parked akimbo, doors flungopen, lights fluttering and reflecting
Mysterious Run Plan–2000
Tony the Tool sat in the gutter in front of his California bungalow. A couple weeks before, a community improvement group had painted the run-down rental, but it didn’t improve the condition of the junk rolling stock surrounding it. It was past 10 p.m. in the rundown neighborhood, but no one was going to call
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Simi Valley Bike Show
“Moto Concoursa” was the name of the game recently on a sunny May Sunday, the first such event held at the Simi Valley City Hall complex. It turned out to be a celebration of both precious metal and precious memories. And also for a good cause, a silent auction benefited the Pediatric Brian Tumor Foundation
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Night of the Vikings
Bandit, nearlyseven feet of high-grade treachery, feared by men since the first day heclawed his way out of a wart hogs womb, sodomized it, killed it and thenate the only female who would ever truly love him. Perhaps the most legendaryoutlaw biker of all time, a greater menace to social stability than theblack plague, the
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