Motorcycle Mystique

Romance Ricky spent ten years in Iraq. About to go home, he grappled with his mission. Before his time in the service, he enjoyed the fruits of his lovers. A stout, good-looking sort he rode a Panhead chopper and chased women, but like so many young men he didn’t understand the code. Most of the […]

Voodoomama Part 2   A short time later, Liz calls. “Hello Mama.” “Lizzy, I know this must be hard for you, but please hear me out.” “I’m listening, Mama.” “I need to see you, Lizzy. Now.” “I’m in Kathmandu,” Liz replies dryly. “I’m in New Delhi; I’ve been here for three years. Lizzy, I work

      Editor’s Note: This is Chapter 11-Voodoo Priestess or the first chapter in the second series of MidNight Run.  Location: The Hilton Hotel near CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia. Liz enters the hotel room enraged. “Zac, they’ve suspended my CSS status and put me on leave of absence!” Liz fumes to me. “Leave

Now that we are totally acquainted, the owner of this site, this internet entity, this block, this stone, this worse than senseless thing, this Bikernet….like I say, this Bikernet, this Keith “Bandit” Ball person, has consented – with great reluctance and argument against the idea….. to permitting me to fulfill my desire to say my

Me and Cecily hopped in the car were on our way to Las Vegas once and westopped at a desert town that is a popular way-station for the Las Vegas hordes thatcome and go to LV from SoCal. It’s a hot gasping oven of a town and used to have just two eateries but time

It was darker than a sparkplug hole And cold enough to freeze your balls off, Following that straight white line crossing the state That night on the freeway   Got gas a hundred miles ago Maybe thirty ‘fore we start runnin’ out Our butts were numb, eyes peerin’ hard into the darkness Hands stiff as

  It’s been 50 years since Burt Munro took his Indian Scout Streamliner to the Bonneville Salt Flats and made history – a story immortalized by the feature film, The World’s Fastest Indian, starring Sir Anthony Hopkins. As a result, Munro’s legacy transcends motorcycles and symbolizes the much broader drive to push beyond conventional limitations

Invited were friends and members of Detroit Federation of MC Clubs. Inner city Detroit was beyond rough in the late ‘60s. A war zone of concrete and corrugated steel empty warehouses with interspersed with functioning businesses. The dirty pothole strewn streets, cluttered with debris, were dotted with greasy spoon restaurants and dive bars. Every building

The changing tides didn’t mean a thing. The moon was as gloomy as ever. The dark skies were darkening ever more as the monsoon clouds converged. The faint chirping of the sparrows in dusk were muted by the patter of rain against palm leaves. My slippers dragged on, its rubber inner-sole slapping against my foor

Four, high ranking members of the Two Skulls MC, including Little Steve and the prez sat in Steve’s truck halfway down the block from Karl’s house. No one spoke. All of them stared out the window at the house where the lone biker named Karl Skanlan lived. They were there to take care of business.