Motorcycle Mystique

  The story starts with Bandit telling me about a big card game in the Badlands of South Dakota. We were drinking one night down the street from the Cantina getting about half lit. He drank Jack on the rocks, and I was drinking Beam. The only thing left was to break open a bottle […]

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.

Here’s a link to the last episode: http://www.bikernet.com/pages/COURTHOUSE_RUNPart_Two.aspx   The Harley was truly at home on the highway. The combination of the torquey, low-revving, four-stroke engine, and the low slung riding position, made for an almost perfect traveling machine. Karl installed a set of “highway pegs” that enabled him to stretch his legs out in

Continued from chapter one: http://www.bikernet.com/pages/COURTHOUSE_RUNPart_One.aspx Karl was out. He could scarcely believe it. It seemed that one minute he was certain that he was going to jail, possibly for a long time, and the next minute he was checking his scoot out of the impound yard and rolling out of the station. The bike, amazingly

  Karl couldn’t seem to wake up. He just had that slow, lazy, drowsy feeling that wouldn’t go away. It wasn’t because he’d been working too hard, since he was currently unemployed, which didn’t necessarily mean that he wasn’t working, it just meant that he was working on his own. He was always working. When

Ton, a longtime member of the Few Good Men M/C, glared at the reflection in the back of the minivan. It was times like this that he wished the Shovel had mirrors. He had picked up the reflection of the tan van several miles before but now it was getting the best of him. A

This ain’t no tale of my misadventures on two-wheels. It ain’t about how I rode through hills or deserts or how I got into scuffles with the lawmen on the highways of good ol’ US of A. Nor is this about the girls, bitches or sluts I keep regular appointments with. No Sir! This is

As she finished the last of the pot, she gently and carefully funneled the shake onto a business card, bent just right to dump the last load into the bowl. She flicked the Bic several times, and a low glowing blue flame emerged just enough to light the green material in the glass pipe. She

“When I die I want to meet God and say, what the hell were you thinking, like what were you thinking?”—Indian Larry “Hold on to yourself Bartlett, you’re twenty feet short.”—Steve McQueen …from the movie THE GREAT ESCAPE “…I’ll be right out…Nice coat…”—Marv…a.k.a. Mickey Rourke…from the movie SIN CITY “If I had to describe him,

Nowadays, by definition, a motorcycle trip is typically not something done simply for the utilitarian transportation reason of getting from point A to point B because you have to get there. Yes, there are plenty of folks who ride to work during the week, ride to a union meeting on a Saturday morning, and Hell

Moral of the work In War: Resolution In Defeat: Defiance In Victory: Magnanimity In Peace: Good Will –Windston Churchill Pierre sat in a pastry shop as the rain pounded the cobblestone street outside the leaded windows. He was a stout, 5’10” young man in his mid 20s who was politically lost. It was 1939 and