Fiction

By Roadrage
(c) 2009

By Roadrage
© 2008

Billy tried to shake off the chill of the miserable, wet night that had been his only companion for the last 170 miles as he walked through the door of the diner. It had been a good trip up until the clouds rolling in off the ocean settled onto the highway and began emptying themselves. Ten days on the other side of the mountains, away from the coast, with a group of friends—good brothers from days gone by who were still close it was like they’d never separated—riding hard, partying harder and just enjoying the freedom of the road again.

By Crazy Ed

So, I'm standin’ lookin’ out into the God almighty desert, watchin’ this pitiful little two-lane excuse of a road wander off over the horizon, and I'm wonderin’, seein' as I haven't seen a damn thing for over two hours, the trip odometer says 119, which means I'm about 50 miles from bein’ completely out of gas, just what the hell do I think I'm doin' out here anyway.

By Filthy Phil

Way back in those nearly lost days of old, one of my ridin bro’s “B.D.”—for “Brain Dead”-- and I were out and about supporting as many of the local bars, pubs, and taverns as would put up with us, which, surprisingly, was a considerable number. At the same time, we were doing our civic duty of keeping drugs out of the hands of the youth of America--in our own special little way, of course. It was something we had to do, you know, us being upstanding citizens and all.

By Cool Hand Luke

PART ONE

The sun rose and warmed the cool Colorado morning. He lay awake and listened to the radio weather report. Same as near every June day in Colorado--warm and sunny…until the afternoon thunderstorms rolled in around four o’clock. No matter, for the man would be long gone to the west before the rain ever got to Lakewood.