FEATURE REQUEST– Bandit, ya gotta do a feature on that stunning gal astride the Knuckle…. photographed by Jerry Southworth.
What a honey….. better still, put her on a plane…… she can be my new office mouse!
–Cheers….. Indian Joe
We understand the sinuous desires a special woman creates, especially Sarah. We reached out to Jerry Southworth, a master of the soft curvy imagery a woman provides. But her shots also reminded me of my past, during the Vietnam era. I was stationed on a heavy cruiser and owned a new stock 1969 XLCH. On a weekly basis, I rode from the San Diego Naval Base to Long Beach to get laid or die trying.
I had a serious predilection for women at the age of 20, like a heroin addict does for any taste of smack. While riding along the coast, my mind would often wander to the softer side of life. I would glance in a sedan, while blazing past, hoping for a bright smile, glistening eyes or an exposed cleavage. My mind wandered off the winding road to somewhere she was waiting for me.
While nailing the throttle, I starred through dark glasses at the open freeway and thought about finding some girl like Sarah, broke down alongside the freeway, wearing too-short shorts over legs so supple and soft. My imagination would ramble to her side, her soft alluring smile touching my heart, my tools fixing her car and her invitation to follow her home.
My mind spinning with imagery of a warm brunette angel with a warm gaze and skin so soft it could make a grown man cry. She offered me a chilled Corona, and a slice of fresh lime, and then disappeared into the back of the house. I was as comfortable as a baby in his mother’s arms as I kicked off my boots and enjoyed the warm summer sun slicing through open windows into her warm abode. Then I heard that voice, warm enough to melt frozen tundra, call me to the back yard…
It’s all apart of the biker blues. We’re alone on the road, unable to converse or share a soft seat with the fairer sex. A brother on the open road is lured into a sense of sunlight seduction by only his exhaust note, the confidence his mechanical contraption offers, and the wind whistling around his ears. That’s when the blues hit home. The mind is left to the wildest imaginative thoughts of women, the future, business, fights, you name it.
Often this song would come to mind from the Four Tops in the ’60s.
Ask The Lonely lyrics
(Written by William Stevenson, Ivy Jo Hunter)
When you feel
That you can make it all alone
Remember no one is big enough
To go it all alone
Just ask the lonely
They know the hurting pain
Of losing the love
You can never regain
Just ask the lonely
The young and foolish
Who laugh at love and slowly run away
Confident and sure that fate
Will bring another love their way
But ask the lonely
How vainly a heart can yearn
For losing a love
That will never return
Just ask the lonely
Just ask the lonely
Just ask the lonely
They’ll tell you a story of sadness
A story too hard to believe
They’ll tell you
The lonliest one is me
Just ask the lonely
Just ask the lonely
Just ask the lonely
Ask me, I’m the lonliest one of all
Back then, my mind was often sucked toward the sexual escapades I wasn’t having. I was stuck off the coast of Vietnam seven months of the year, blasting the coast and ducking return fire. Then I was sequestered on a base 120 miles from home most of rest of the year. Naturally, when I could fly away for a couple of days, I peeled like a lost dog toward the hometown.
Fortunately, a brunette waited for me. She had the smile of an angel and boobs most whores only dream about. But there was more. She contained the sexual prowess of an entire harem and the sensual desires of 50 women locked in a women’s prison. Yet, she was as good and as pure as freshly fallen snow.
Unfortunately, my young outlaw spirit didn’t allow me to stay. My punishment was a string of no-account broads and too many lonely nights on desolate freeways looking into dark car windows for another angel. If you find one, respect her. They’re hard to come by.
