new fiction from Gearhead and Bandit
Late into the night on Christmas Eve, he cut a quick dusty trail on the old chopper to make it home before the dawn of Christmas day. He left the Gulf burning rubber under the sliver of a moonlit night. Hooking along a southern highway headed north, he figured about 80 miles an hour. He’d slice through 4 to 5 hours, with two gas stops.
About 200 miles into the trip, the Eastern seaboard faced a nasty blizzard push ashore. He pulled the Pan into a wet, wind-swept gas station to top her off. Cold and damp to the bone, he pulled the Santa suit out of his saddlebags. It’s all he had to enhance his layered protection.
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