Lightening Strikes, We are able to truly know who we are; by what others

think of our friends. When the skies open up, lightening strikes someone heart forever; leaving it hunger for something else, never satisfying the desires of love, only leaving hungry eyes. Time is liken to love, the harder you hang on to it the slower it gets, thus thinking of the past ages you faster. My younger years of success was nothing more then taking advantage of an opportunity. Therefore I learned the hard way; leave sleeping dogs lay, because the dead cannot breed the living; so I learned not to dig up bones. Just another day, we all have tried to catch up to her, she is much stronger then we are; she is a Saber. I knew that she was special the first time I met her, she had the eyes of a cat, and she knew I would fall in love with her, just as planned. Again we proceed, diligently I follow her scent, the blood stains are left every where she roams; she is deadly, spiteful and possess an unwilling hunger. Her scent has been noticed, she is in heat, and needs to breed and we are adding to her temperament. I shot into her twice, not knowing the extent of the damage. I think she is slowing down, although she is smart, maybe setting a trap, to lead me into her lair. The sun has set far behind the mountains, and the desert is dry, for all these trees around here are old, thousands of years old, I have no place to hide, only rocks and crevices to crotch down into. The air is stale, and yet her scents of passion are every where, I lose my sense if direction, she must be close by, for the moonlight is full, only one cloud in the sky, miles away, I hear something! The sounds are approaching towards me, I look up turning my head around, and it is her! She is so beautiful, yet I know she will kill me once I sleep with her, and I could hardly wait, I have been absorbing her scent for days, desperation engulfs me. She leaps towards me, and we wrestle for a bit, then she lets me access her, she enjoys the moments, passing moment by moment, I too indulge myself, not caring about my fate. She swiftly turns around exposing her wounds, I have delivered two mortally displaced wounds, and I feel saddened knowing I have injured her. My only attempt was to catch her and befriend her, so maybe we could live together, just at that moment she claws my back. She whispers to me Hold on tight to your dreams Tom, they are always only a day away, and a nights moment then she bites hard into my flesh. Pussy licker is the last things he said to me; just before I left the bar, he knew most of the chicks, and he knew how I was, her name was Sandy. We were talking about a road trip, to just leave and travel over the mountains far away from this place. Sandy was not from around here, but her type and style was nothing new, she has all the right moves, says all the right stuff, and could paralyze the best of players; with just one wink. Joe Padilla, the players player, my best friend for ten years or so, he knew too much about everybody, especially strangers, they were the easiest for him to figure out. He taught most of us the tricks these chicks play, like bait and switch, or whos lie is it now, all the original one liners. Joe liked to watch the games people played, most of the time he would write books on the characters, reliving their adventures, and recreating their fantasys, he got so good at people watching that he could predict the next move, people would play on each other, from across the room. When he seen Sandy he called me and said that she was worth the trip over to the Hide Away; a local biker bar, home away from home.

My body has become comatose and it feels so good, the life-force is depleted, and I feel so relieved, yet my vision is almost gone. I could smell her fragrant change, as she is completing the task, anger engrosses her demur. The faint chance that she will let me go is forever forgotten, once she begins to consume me, the impending actions of loves ritualistic games begin, starting with my brains. The encapsulating demands she imposes by telepathic forces, my primordial senses are caused into a powerful trance. A hypnotic trance induced by our mutual lust; only two within this mental state of engagement could reach. Vaguely my pulse is withering away, I feel hers gaining strength, as I relieve all my love into her, she has taken my live, mentally and now physically. Two days and three nights, I lay barely alive, as she licks my wounds, she is indecisive, she has made her first mistake, and she is in love. Something a Saber is incapable of, she has willed to me to survive, leaving only one option for me, to kill her once my strength returns. Her fear of me is tormenting her, if only she would believe in me, she would not have to fear me, but she could never understand me. She only understands what has happened, that unexplained paradox where a female Saber could deeply care for another, and bear their child, the end of her kind has started to end, the moment she conceived my male child, she must let me survive to raise it my own ways, with my own traits. A powerful being such as myself, the first to conquer and break the centuries old ritual, to penetrate the mind of a Saber, into believing in such a fallacy of love. Yet her wisdom precedes her, she withdrew from me, thus the natural chain reaction. Her ruining away leads me to follow, thus the scents I absorbed posses my own psychic, to chase, mate and then kill. Two more nights, I lay wounded, my ankle is sprung, and I sense that she has changed her mind, my ability to defend myself is not worth the fight, and she is bored with my inabilities. I must try to make her believe in me, that Im still powerful, and only temporally wounded. As she prances, eagerly displaying her strength, she starts to show signs of a threat; I mimic her, inducing a challenge, we engage. Then as the lust rekindles, we find each others anger stimulating, soon we are purring next to each other resting after another quest; one we both felt as a control factor, the strongest will survive. Sandy struts right pass me, ignoring my direct eye contact, an obvious trait meaning she is either pissed off or cannot control her composer, my last comment to her was meant as a

complement, how did she take it? I look back at Joe, he seen everything and is laughing, what did I miss, how come she snuffed me, she is ridiculously mad about me or she dislikes me completely. I wait patiently for her to return, then after few minutes she walks back over to me, Tom lets get out of here, right fucking now or forget getting laid tonight I hold her hand as we walk out side the bar, Joe knows what happened, and signals me, waving good by. We get on my bike, it is next to Joes, as she ask me to take her for a ride up to the beach, I say alright lets go. Sunset Boulevard is ugly this time of day, traffic takes command of everyone, soon I reach Ocean blvd. and we proceed to the Santa Monica pier. When we get there I see that Wapato and Greg are prowling around, pushing dope, the Somas, the night trips are on there way. Sandy asks me if I knew those two guys, of course I did they were at all the local bars, parties and gigs of all sorts including the street races. They liked the Rainbow, or the Roxy on sunset, hard rockers from the seventies. We cop some hits and walked along the beach, the waves were just as perfect as she was, the sunset added to her beauty, behind her was a ship passing by, about two miles out at sea. The day was almost over, as the city lights began to turn on, a strange magic covers me, as she reaches over to kiss me, I ask her if she would go on a road trip with me, we agree to go visit old friends of mine in Oregon. The sunshine, the wind blowing into our face, this is why I ride, my girl on back, and my buds preparing a welcoming party, like only Mike V. can. All points direction leads us towards Madras, Oregon, the Rock House, my home for five years. The first day we end up taking the HWY 101, along the coast heading first to San Jose. Joey and Lisa road are along with us, they have family and friends that live there. All of us enjoy the freedom of picking up stakes and just heading north, somebody called Lisa and suggested that detour into Monterey, for some Somas.

The Ace of Spades, Keith Paine, the first time we seen him he was surfing the Monterey Bay, he was well known throughout the beach cities, Half-moon Bay, Santa Cruz, Venice,

Playa Del Rey, La Jolla, you name it he partied there. We met his crew in Jalama Point, they lived there, camping and surfing, that was there life, and I should mention his closest friend The Dog, Gary Humphry. Me and Sandy loved the idea of being renegades, so we hung with this crew for awhile, they were a little more then surfers, they did jobs, odd jobs that taken us to the next level, things we found more exciting then drugs. These guys were born to raise hell, and take all on comers, that is when the games began, Sandy and me made a pack, that what ever happens we would always have each others back. That night in Jalama beach we all drank until the sun came up, talking of past experiences, that is when they decided to check Oregon out, our team just turned into a crew. The riders all agreed to spend some time in San Jose, the Mongols, ran that town they were arch enemies of the Hells Angels, yet we all new each others next moves, any colors that flew, were only flying out side of certain areas. Its all about the game, and whos going to make it, look over your shoulder and try to figure out who is involved, never sleep among friends without someone watching you, your closet friends will take you down, that is to game. You know you cant pay me but you know that you cant take me, those are the rules, for you will have to pay, just who and when that is totally up to you. Slipping once is not accepted, life is cheep among the dying, and every one on dope accepts death. For with the eyes open we are covered, for there is plenty of time for darkness, sleep is not of this place, when we have a need for speed.

My boots fly, gliding inches from the pavement, wingless creatures reaching speeds over a hundred miles per hour, Sandys red boots are a crystal complement to mine, they are only inches from the road, as her thighs wrap comfortably around my hips, we are as one with this bike. Her breast keep me warm, and her arms message me as I drive for hours, only stopping for fuel. This crew is now official, we are cruising into Mike Vs motel, the Rock House, fifteen bikes strong, six loaded guns that I know of, this is nothing new to Mike V. We had over two hundred bikers at any one time stopping to cop, score or deliver, that is the life we live. Mike V. is the only other friend besides Sandy that I trust; I still have to prove this crew Keith and the Dog. We think about each other constantly, as the plans change moment by moment, Sandy has a way of thinking for me; her attitude is we are one. The last two weeks on the road have been quite amazing, yet we never expected to ride with a heavy crew such as the Wizards, hard core dope feigns, that is what we live for.

IN THE MIND LIVES THE WORLD, THE ONLY PLACE FOR US

The sky is full of protection, bats every where waiting to consume the weak, those who are scared to accept the rules of the game, flinch under pressure and you die an ugly death, time to play the game. Headless spirits choking from memories of one simple mistake, forever lost in time, lonely are the wicked. The first night at the Rock House was cool, I got my room 103, corner to the road, and the only room with a back window, these rooms are made of brick, bullet riddled walls from years of drug deals, if only these walls could talk, I would spend allot of time listening to myself con the best cons, stealing what is right. My theory is if we all agreed upon something then we all agreed to take it down, at all cost a mans word means something only, honor among the crew, basic ethics, accepted by the crew was worth the take. The meeting with Mike and Keith went with out a hitch, the next night was totally different, the whole crew bonded, two rivals showed up unexpectedly mingling with the girls that was alright. Although Mike V. figured they owed something from the past, time to collect the death certificate from a rider twelve years ago. Nobody seemed to care about the beating those guys got, they only wanted to see the bosses work together, security in numbers, that was rule number two, the game continues, as three weeks pass, and the party is just beginning, another delivery is expected. Mike looks at me and says Joker bring the tool, meet me out back, its on! I know what is on, as I see two shadows, behind Keith and the Dog, Mike walks up in front of them, What the fuck is happening Ace, The Dog needs to cover your back better just then a gun fires off, small caliber, 38 special, one of the shadows drop, I fire at the other, somebody turns on the headlights, and I see that our company just turned into our enemies, Mike and Keith run behind a large tree, they fire at the vehicle, as the wounded man is carried into the old pick-up truck. The Dog is hit twice on the leg and Im fired upon; brazed my shoulder. As they sped off down the highway, Sandy and Anita came running out side, expecting the worst, they too were packing, everything is under control, and we have a beer, to settle down, laughing at our take. The excitement is just begging for more drama, as less then an hour a drunk biker skids in front of the motel, off the highway and hits a tree, he stands up not knowing that his head is split wide open; as he falls forward he waves, he is dead before he hits the ground; the coroner told the ambulance driver that the poor white trash biker was so high that he never sensed the pain. The Rock House always had drama, the local Cops only came with the County Sheriffs, do to the fact Cops werent liked up on the hill. Evolution created these scenes, time has created the mob, and the mob has created the crews, for within the crews we survive, loners always die alone. That night I made love to her, so passionately that we exploded, into colorful visions of lust, the drug induced sex was hard to repeat, our mutual acceptance of our crew, the crazy mind fuck games, the creed we all believed in. Truth to the most realist of peoples, any society of social structures would have to rethink the pubic opinions of our life styles, fast bikes, and faster women, that was the precursor of the following years to come, our early years, before the hard core Street Races.

TOM CHACON

AUG-6-07