Lefty felt the vibration of his old Pan's engine tingling in the small of his back. "Man I'm getting old," he thought to himself heading out on a lonely desert highway. "The bike's running good," again thinking to himself. He had experienced some electrical problems recently. The electrical system was almost fifty years old. He replaced the wiring harness once already. He was contemplating "biting the bullet" and springing for all new 12-volt components to replace the original 6-volt system still in place on his vintage Harley-Davidson FL Model. His bike continually turned heads wherever he rode it, and he damn sure rode it.

Lefty, the ultimate drifter, didn't hang his hat on the same hook for long. He had to see what was over that next horizon.

He started out from his hometown in New England, headed south and never looked back. Most of his family was either dead or in unknown places .

Lefty traveled light. All his earthly possessions were loaded in a worn Army duffel bag strapped to the luggage rails over his rear fender. Other necessary items were carried in faded leather saddlebags he installed many years ago. He recently finished a stint as a bricklayer at his last stopover. Flush with cash, he was ready for yet another grand adventure.

The sun beat down on him, as he headed west on a two-lane desert highway. The last vestiges of summer were slowly giving way to the desert autumn. He wasn't in any hurry.

His reflective mood was suddenly interrupted by a sputtering sound in his engine. He knew what would happen next. His electrical system had a tendency to "munch" voltage regulators. He normally carried a spare in his saddlebag. He learned that a 6-volt VW regulator worked just as well as a Harley replacement, at about a third of the cost, that is, if he could find one. He didn't have a spare as the Pan sputtered and coughed.

As he drifted to a stop, his thoughts were anything but pleasant. "Shit, right in the middle of Bumfuck, Egypt," he lamented to himself. "I'm definitely buying all that 12- volt shit now," further expressing his frustration out loud.

There wasn't a lot he could do. He had no cell phone. He was in a strange state, where he didn't know a solitary soul.

Several vehicles whistled along, but sped up when they saw him waving his arms. "Bunch of paranoid assholes," he said to himself. Prospects weren't promising as the sun set. "Looks like an all nighter," he commented out loud.

He could lay his sleeping bag down, but he was concerned about rattlers and other varmints way out in the middle of nowhere. Just then he saw the lights of an approaching vehicle in the distance. As it got closer, he could see it was a pickup truck. The cloudy skies all but blocked the light from the quarter moon flickering in the star filled sky.

As the vehicle came closer, he made out the lines of the pickup's cab and grill. He waved his arms and the truck sped past. "Shit," he exclaimed in frustration. He began sit back down on his helmet when he saw the brake lights of the truck flash on.

It slowed and pulled a U-turn. He slipped one hand near his lower back so that he could reach the small .38 caliber Colt Detective Special revolver under his waistband.

The pickup pulled up beside him and the tinted, power-window began to drop. Behind the wheel of this shiny new, fully loaded, dually was the most drop dead gorgeous blonde bimbo he had ever seen.

He paused for a moment before replying. Quickly he regained his composure and replied, "Not anymore, darlin'!" he returned with his finest smile.

"Is there any way I can help you out?" she said with a lusty accent on "any way". Lefty smiled profusely as he considered several ways this fox could be of "assistance".

"I could think of a few dozen," he replied coyly.

"How about I back into that gully and you roll your scooter up into the truck bed?"

"Scooter," Lefty thought to himself. "This is even better, she's a Biker chick." he felt encouraged more and more as their conversation progressed.

After a bit more flirtatious exchange of pleasantries, it was agreed that the chick, named Crystal, Lefty learned, would pull into the ditch and he would load the bike into the truck. Crystal whipped the truck around as though she parked cars for a living and backed into the ditch that made it relatively easy for Lefty to push his scoot into the bed. The sweat was well worth the rescue, especially considering the blonde lifeguard.

Crystal stepped out of the truck to watch Lefty complete his task. Lefty looked and saw that his initial assessment of her feminine pulchritude was, if anything, an under-estimate. She wore short-shorts, a thin tube top, with no bra, and a pair of knock-me-down-and-fuck-me platform shoes. He found it hard to concentrate on the bike. She even had some ratchet tie downs with "D" rings set in the truck bed liner. "Couldn't be more perfect," Lefty thought.

Lefty jumped down out of the truckbed and closed the tailgate.

Crystal complemented him on his bike briefly, then said, "I'll just pull up to the side of the road and you can check the straps."

She could've told Lefty that the moon was made of green cheese and he would have given her that same stupid smile as he replied, "OK, with me darlin'." She strutted back to the cab of the truck with a walk that could stop a bull rhino in full charge and, ever so sweetly, climbed up onto the seat.

Lefty watched the bike as she pulled up out of the ditch. It looked as though it was secure.

Crystal hit the gas and sprayed Lefty with dust and gravel as she sped off down the highway with his beloved Pan in the back of the truck.

Lefty yelled out, "Hey Bitch! What do you think you're doing?" He watched as Crystal slammed on the brakes, bringing the truck to an abrupt stop, fifty yards away.

Momentarily relieved, he saw her step out of the truck. She then pulled up the thin tube top she was wearing and gave Lefty an eyeful of those bodacious melons which she gleefully shook for him. She quickly turned around and pulled the skimpy shorts down and mooned him just for good measure. Lefty couldn't help but admire her feminine attributes despite the fact that he was being ripped off of the only thing in the whole wide world that he gave a damn about. He ran after the truck as she quickly jumped back in the cab and sped off.

"You fucking whore!" Lefty screamed at the increasingly diminutive silhouette of the truck. He stood in the road, dumbfounded. Not only had he just lost his most prized possession, but also his gear. He never felt so violated in his entire life, as he did at this moment.

"Somehow, someway, I'll find that Bitch! When I do.....", he let his spoken oath trail off.

He still had five grand in cold hard cash on his person. He had a good portion of that safely tucked into a velcro-fastened money belt under his faded blue jeans. He had his gun. He still had his ID, etc. The clothes and various other personal items were easy enough to replace. The bike was his wife and his life, his hope and his dope!

Lefty wasn't sure how far it was to the next town. All he could do was walk and hope for the best. He began hitchhiking, but, like before, the cars sped past without giving him a second look. An hour-and-a-half later, he flagged down a guy in an old beat up Chevy truck. When he opened the passenger door he saw that the driver was an old scooter tramp like himself.

"Hey Bro' what the hell you doing way out here?" he driver inquired of him.

"You won't believe when I tell you," Lefty replied as he climbed into the cab. Lefty proceeded to relate the story of his encounter with the blonde, although reluctant to reveal all the details.

"Look Bro', my name is Lloyd. My friends call me LuckyDog. I'm with the Mongrels M/C out of the next town," the driver informed Lefty. "I'll help you out anyway I can, short of wasting somebody."

"Appreciate that," Lefty said in gratitude. "Right now I gotta get me some wheels and a place to stay."

LuckyDog was once again able to offer assistance. "Tell you what, I got a spare room. The old lady's visiting her mother till next week," Lucky dog said. "I'll help you find some wheels!"

Lefty couldn't believe his good fortune, although he damn sure figured he was due some. "I'll buy the beer and food and get out of your hair as soon as possible," Lefty said.

"No sweat, but let's get a beer," Lucky said pulling into the dusty BOOBY HATCH parking lot. They walked in and took a seat at a table. The waitress jiggled over and gave LuckyDog a big hug and a kiss. She set a bottle of Bud down in front of both of them. "Lefty, this is my favorite waitress in the whole world, Angel," LuckyDog said in way of introduction.

"Pleased to meet you darlin'," Lefty told the girl.

He found himself, reluctantly, comparing her to the blonde. He realized that there was no comparison. Lefty was watching the dancers when a thought hit him like a ton of bricks. "Dancer! I'll bet that bitch is a fuckin' dancer!" He turned to Lucky, "You know of a dancer named Crystal. A blonde bombshell?"

LuckyDog thought for a few moments, "Doesn't sound like any of the dancers in this place. Most of these aren't that good looking," he said.

"Yea, I noticed," Lefty replied, chuckling.

"She may be one of the Dancers at the PLATINUM PALACE over in Sagebrush," LuckyDog suggested. "It's a real upscale club with the best looking bitches in the county."

"That sounds like the kind of outfit that this broad would work at," Lefty muttered.

LuckyDog had another thought, "Let me call my boss. He lives over that way and goes to that club on a regular basis. He can afford that place, I sure in the hell can't."

He was back from the payphone in a flash. "You're in luck!. Boss says Crystal works the day shift. Sounds like the bitch you're looking for," LuckyDog said with a growing excitement.

Lefty could barely contain himself. He formulated a plan for checking her out as soon as possible. LuckyDog broke his concentration, "Let's get out of here, jam to my place and figure out a plan of action!"

The ride to LuckyDog's pad was relatively short. Lefty asked him a variety of questions about the area as he considered his next move. He mentally made a list. First and foremost was a vehicle.

LuckyDog thought for a moment, "How much do you want to spend?"

Lefty quickly replied, "Not more than a grand."

LuckyDog inquired, "You got the cash?"

Lefty hesitated a moment. He had already been ripped off. "I can get my hands on it," he informed his host guardedly.

Lefty watched as LuckyDog sprang out of his chair, snatched the phone and made a call. Lefty listened as he said, "Hey Bongo. You still got that old pickup you were selling?" The conversation ended with LuckyDog smiling and giving Lefty the thumbs up sign before hanging up.

Lefty acquired info pertaining to his list. He dropped down on the twin bed in the back bedroom of the doublewide trailer that LuckyDog called home and fell asleep within minutes. His dreams led him on a tour of "Vengeance City" as he fitfully tossed and turned through the night.

Lefty was up and about before sunrise. He checked the pre-fab kitchen and found the coffeemaker and all the essential components for making a pot of fresh coffee. He was sitting at the dining room table going over his list and making additional notes when Lucky stumbled out of his room an hour later. They sat over steaming coffee and discussed the day's itinerary.

First stop was Bongo's to look at the truck. A quick $800.00 was just what Bongo needed to revive his Shovelhead. With the truck they found a second-hand clothing store in town. Lefty found a cheap suit, dress shirt and clip-on tie. "Been a long time since I had one of these on," he jokingly told his companion.

Next stop was the barbershop. LuckyDog sat and watched as Floyd (who caught all kinds of hell for being named after Floyd the barber on the old Andy Griffith show) shaved Lefty clean and cut his long hair into a conservative straight guy's style.

Another call and the connection was made for a used well-worn double-barrel 12-gauge shotgun, that Lefty had purchased from another one of LuckyDog's Club Brothers. One by one Lefty's list was handled.

They were burnin' daylight as they pulled up to the crib. They got a chuckle over the straight suit on Lefty. LuckyDog pulled out a local road map and showed Lefty the roads he would use around the titty bar. Lefty made some quick notes on the map and prepared to leave.

He had about a forty-mile drive ahead of him. He tried to tune the AM radio in the old pickup on to any station but the radio wasn't working.

He passed billboards advertising the PLATINUM PALACE and other various businesses in the upscale suburb of Sagebrush.

He pulled around to the back past several rows of high-dollar vehicles parked in the front. Pulling passed corner of the building he saw a sight that made his heart leap. Parked in the rear was a new tandem-wheeled crew-cab custom truck that had been the escape vehicle for his lovely antagonist the other night. He parked a few spaces down and walked over to look at the truck once again. The sight of that truck made him relive the events that had turned his life upside-down.

His first reaction was to rush into the bar and snatch the whore up and tear her fuckin' head off. He regained his composure, however, and proceeded to implement the first part of his multi-faceted plan. He walked behind her truck, looked around, as nonchalantly as possible, before retrieving a small hammer from his pocket. He smashed the passenger side taillight lense and quickly walked away around the corner of the building towards the front entrance. It would help him track his quarry, if traffic became heavy during his pursuit.

He straightened his suit and entered the strip joint. The thump!, thump!, thump! of the music greeted him as he stood in the anteroom and paid the cover charge. He glanced at the doorman/bouncer sitting on the stool by the door to the inner portion of the club. The guy looked like Mr. Universe. He didn't look like the kind of fellow you'd like to meet in a dark alley. The girl behind the counter said, "Hello handsome, how are you today?"

He found himself in a large room with multiple colored neon lights, rotating and flashing spotlights, and chrome plated rails and furniture. The music was loud and fast paced. There was a beautiful nude brunette, with legs a mile long, strutting her stuff on one of the three runways that led off from the center stage.

The club was dark other than the neon and spotlights that followed the girl's every sulty move. He sat in a dark corner and ordered a beer.

After the brunette was done with her routine, the announcer spoke up and informed everyone that the PLATINUM PALACE was open 24 hours, 7 days a week, etc. Lefty's heartbeat began to quicken as he heard the announcer's next spiel. "GENTLEMEN, LET'S GIVE A BIG PLATINUM PALACE WELCOME TO OUR WORLD FAMOUS HEADLINER, THE ONE AND ONLY.....CAHHHRYSTAAAAL!!!!!! " The lights dimmed and the music began to boom. The spotlights swirled around momentarily and then focused on the stage entrance where "The Blonde" made her grand entrance.

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