Los Angeles International AirportLos Angeles, CaliforniaI laid my H&K USP .45 on the counter at the check-in booth for TWA airlines. The attendant eyed me with wary disdain as he examined the gun to make sure it was unloaded. It’s completely legal to carry firearms underneath any commercial airliner and there was nothing he could […]
Morning Glory Seeds and Black Madness on the Santa Fe Trail Read More »
On the map it was to be seen as a small red square set flush against the Equator, for all the world like a scarlet kerchief hung up to dry on a line. That was how Terry Devine expressed it when he first located it in his old school Atlas, but he didn’t know then
Nobody knew Buzzard’s real name. There was a reason for this; if you had aname like Horace Hieronymous Toozfetz, you probably wouldn’t go aroundadvertising it either. Some people might say that it’s a bit of anoverreaction to become an outlaw biker just because your parents gave you aname you didn’t like. Of course, the people
Ace sat at a booth near the back of the bar and sipped his beer. The Midnite Club, a private club in the French quarter of New Orleans, was where he liked to go when he had to lay low. Right now, Ace was laying lower than a snake’s belly, at least until the heat
In the back woods of the New Jersey Pine Barrens, there is a small, winding road that does not appear on any map, and which few have ever traveled. It winds around over the tops of the hills, through lush groves scented by pine trees, where white-tailed deer leap gracefully over fallen logs and squirrels
Francis “Ace” Calhoun awoke with the fear, accompanied by guilt, which wasa bit odd. It wasn?t that Ace didn’t have plenty to feel guilty about. In his 32 years, he had been involved in as much debauchery as any 10 pimps or con men. He had slept with his best friend’s wife and his wife’s
I had ceased to trust El Cid after the knife incident in New Mexico. I had stress fractures forming in my brittle psyche. I could feel the paranoia drifting in through every pore that wasn’t already blocked with bug guts, salt, or 60-weight bike oil. Every access point-the nostrils, the ears, the parched tear ducts,
Quest for Sturgis (CONTINUED) Read More »
I had ceased to trust El Cid after the knife incident in New Mexico. I had stress fractures forming in my brittle psyche. I could feel the paranoia drifting in through every pore that wasn’t already blocked with bug guts, salt, or 60-weight bike oil. Every access point-the nostrils, the ears, the parched tear ducts,
Razor snapped back to the reality of the moment. He looked up at thecracked orange paint and the flaming letters, which proclaimed CYPHER’SCYCLES.The Panhead was still in the window whispering it’s unholy promises to whoever happened by. Ray took a deep breath and walked in.The shop seemed to slump under its own weight. Damp boxes
Ray pulled up to The Place and looked up at its weathered sign. Severalpick-up trucks and a rusted El Camino sat along side the little bar. Hestood up tall and proud from the scoot and sauntered into the bar like agunfighter looking for trouble.Vintage Conway Twitty assaulted Ray’s ears as his eyes adjusted to thedarkness.
