Bandit's Cantina - The Series

A sprawling homeless encampment surrounded Bandit’s Cantina on the main channel overlooking the Port of Los Angeles. Brothers were leary of parking for a beer. Anything on their bikes worth a dime was stolen and the cops couldn’t and wouldn’t stop them. The LA City Council made it okay for thieves and even hold-up thugs […]

Bandit woke the next morning with a start. Emotionally beat-up he struggled with depressing thoughts of the future. He couldn’t figure how society could be living in the best of times, yet some folks were making it the worst. He showered and scrambled down stairs. The crew made their way quietly around the Cantina as

On a rainstorm washed Saturday morning in the Cantina Bandit stormed down the stairs. “Margaret, where the fuck are you?” Margaret stocked the Bar every Saturday morning like clockwork, but orders faded. Bandit wasn’t buying as much booze recently. The bar still filled up, but booze prices hadn’t subsided since Covid. “Yes boss, what’s up?”

Joey, running late, rode his Sportster hard up Washington Blvd heading inland. The once proud city crumbled around him with crime, grit, trash, drugs and homelessness. He darted around destitute RVs, parked and rotting in front of once active marble foyers to penthouse suites in slick high-rise buildings. The once proud city lay in trashy

Joey Bunch woke with a start. He needed to ride to his assigned position to block the 405 freeway and meet an activist group hauling a banner: Folks against Fossil Fuels. He knew the movement made significant progress in the last year. The Zero concept had taken off. It just needed to be implemented. He

Bandit dismounted from his chopper and looked it over. The outline of the rugged San Bernardino mountains sliced a jagged silhouette into the fading sun. The blistering desert temperatures would drop significantly in the next two hours. Bandit pulled on his long sleeve shirt covered elbows stretching his back muscles to relieve the stress. Julio

Between Covid and multiple mandates, the Cantina business model imploded. It was no longer about food and parties. It was all about survival. Every Monday morning the staff met to discuss how to get through the next week. The Chinaman still cooked with his band of Hispanic refugees who were now a part of the

There was a rush of excitement for Xmas. All the kids involved in the parade came over in the afternoon to gather with local bikers, truckers, longshoremen and single mothers. Bandit made a big deal out of the day for everyone including his staff. The Chinaman enjoyed cooking for the crowd and Mandy, Margaret helped

Bandit couldn’t wait to peel back to the Cantina. He had a ton on his mind, but the ride felt good. The bike and his mental load lifted without the yipping Melody around, but there was way more. The highway up the Grape Vine blistered with heat but contained mild traffic. He leaned through the

Bandit rode like the wind to Melody’s side and spent the night in sexual Nirvana. As soft as satin, as warm as the sun and as responsive as a highly charge circuit, Bandit couldn’t get enough of every inch of her tenderness. He could have luxuriated at her side for decades. A big man who

Bandit slipped into the luxurious Corsa tan leather seat, next to a beautiful Redhead dressed to kill and took a slug of Jack Daniels. Suddenly, his mind felt at ease and the long day took it’s toll. He sensed fatigued, yet her dazzling eyes energized him. She slipped her delicate alabaster hand over his thigh,

The chopper, set up to ride, had over an inch of travel in the sprung seat, rubber grips and pegs, rubber mounted risers and bars. The engine, factory balanced had an Andrews cam, Branch heads, tuned exhaust and the oil level was checked. It rocked, like a bullet in the night, slicing through the dark

Bandit roared down Spearfish Canyon and his mind settled with every curve and the rumble of his exhaust blasting off the sheer cliffs and Jack Pines. He came to a stretch where lush pines were knocked over like chess pawns on a polished mahogany game table. He slowed as he rounded a curve and gazed

Bandit awoke with a start to a blistering Monday morning in the middle of July, Wuhan Covid 2020. He couldn’t turn on the air-conditioning. Hell, he couldn’t pay his bills. The formidable stack of requests for funds grew like mold on a neglected peach. He wanted to reach for a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels.

Wim Tat Nam was born to an angry prostitute in Hong Kong. Her mom used her small, slick pussy like a fist gripping the handle on a coal miner’s shovel. She was a money and hate machine. Forced into prostitution by the Japanese wars and poverty, she spread her legs by the time she hit

Cantina Episode 88 Marko and Bandit met in his apartment as nightfall fell over the Port of Los Angeles. Bandit made a point not to lose his cool under any number of challenges or hardships, but this Chinese broad was beginning to get to him. Marko sat down in an old barber chair across from

The summer burn past and a fog drifted over the harbor in the morning, cool and refreshing. Skinny Frankie wandered around the parking lot sweeping and picking up trash. He was so thin and frail the staff worried that he might blow away. A single rider rode into the parking lot on an old raked

It struck 10:00 in the morning in the Port of Los Angeles and a ship’s air-horn blasted the morning. Immediately the Cantina front door opened, and skinny, downer Clay walked in. He missed the naked Chinese broad tied to the chair, the outlaws, the dead dude and the mountain man, still fuming. Clay ignored all

Bandit threw his long leg over his classic slim Le Pera seat and buttoned up his brown leather vest. He liked natural brown leather gauntlet gloves, vests and boots. He shifted his narrow glasses as the officer approached him in the Chowder Barge parking lot. “Thank you,” she said, and for the first time her

Cantina Episode number 84: Salty Deaths Bandit rolled out of the sack on a dreary Wednesday morning. It rained for a week and the gray skies got to him. Everything felt dark, dower and depressing. The stack of bills on his motorcycle desk grew. One of his favorite girls, Mandy, quit and moved to Vegas.

The group returned to the South Point Casino. The limo driver said his goodbyes to Bandit and told him he would report to Marko. “It was a pleasure to work with you,” he said and shook Bandit’s hand profusely. Bandit and Smokes wrapped the girls in bathrobes and took them to their room. He coordinated

  Bandit loaded up his stretched FXR with his bedroll, pushed it into the sun and fired it to life. Marko approached. “I need to nip this in the bud before Saturday,” Bandit said. “We need to come down hard to prevent any harm to Sin, but I gotta get to the source first. I’ll

Sin Wu was the best looking Asian high-dollar hooker on the coast or even in Vegas. But there was so much more to this woman aside from the looks. Bandit and Sin Wu went way back. They hooked up in San Francisco when Bandit rolled through on his stretched Shovelhead for the first time. Fresh