Two Wheeled Tales

100 word fiction contest continues…. #100WFC Yup, its a monthly contest open to all. Word limit is 100. Lots of Bikernet swag to be won. Just sign up for the free weekly newsletter by clicking here. Then email your fiction story in 100 words or less to wayfarer@bikernet.com  WINNERS SO FAR:1. for the month of May

  The roar of engines echoed through the streets of Austin as the Lone Rat Riders, an infamous motorcycle gang, thundered through the city. They were a tight-knit group of outlaws, feared and respected throughout Texas and Nevada. One percenters, they dabbled in successful criminal activities, including (but not limited to) drug trafficking, extortion, and

  I am an outlaw, I was born an outlaw’s son The highway is my legacyOn the highway I will runIn one hand I’ve a Bible   In the other I’ve got a gunWell, don’ you know meI’m the man who wonWoman don’t try to love me   Don’t try to understandA life upon the

  The explosion was our signal to leave. No sounds of pursuit followed; actually there were no other sounds than Larry and I turning our bikes around and riding on. The town of Oakley was changing. As the rising sun’s rays touched an Oakley building it would change back into a modern Middleton building. Buildings

  After breaking free of the old building and jumping aboard our bikes everything went from the slow motion of running through water to the herky-jerky pace of an early 1920s hand cranked movie. Our race through the streets of Oakley had more twists and turns than I remember. Were the giant GPS sunglasses Hilts

  Our decision to return to the old saloon at sundown to confront the ‘new’ owners was risky but we’d likely never have the benefit of knowing when and where they’d be again. It was a tactical advantage we couldn’t pass. Hilts’ original plan to find out who they were then reason with them now

  Lothario Fade introduced the girl to the ride, confident she’d be amused and beguiled with his sanguine sway. As they dallied in line, the dazzle of lights and whir of contraptions awakened his joy and roused reckless pulse within, he leaned close to her, inhaling the intoxicating aroma of her perfume, a whiff of

  We rode the rest of the night putting mile after mile between us and the town of Oakley. The longer I was on the Raider the more I remembered its particulars; in particular the particulars surrounding its six foot wheelbase and extended rake. When I say extended rake I mean extended relative to the

  “The two Colt 45s just changed back into a picture of two Colt 45s…I’m doing something wrong?” Larry leaned over the steel bowl and picked up the picture of the two Colts, “You must be editing your thoughts. Maybe Hilts can explain why when he and Kate catch up?” Larry then nodded at his

  “Thank you…thankyouverymuch…,” said an Elvis with a good natured grin that looked like a lopsided sneer and who looked a lot like the Elvis played by the actor Bruce Campbell in the movie BUBBA HO-TEP and who was sitting on a stool with his back to a jukebox. “Larry and Kate are in the

  “We’re too late;” shouted Shaun aka velociraptor akachameleon, “save yourself…I’ll hold them off!” “I won’t leave without you,” I shouted back at the same time I was trying unsuccessfully to break the lock on the sliding steel door leading into the warehouse. All five Alphas had body armor. None of the large growing larger

   Editor’s note: The following story is from the book, “The Further Adventures of The Borderland Biker, In Memory of Indian Larry and Doo Wop Music,” by Derrel Whitemeyer. For Chapter 18 Click Here    To fifty, and I’m being generous, my Wide Glide might’ve kept us in sight. From fifty onwards the M109 was,

  Editor’s note: The following story is from the book, “The Further Adventures of The Borderland Biker, In Memory of Indian Larry and Doo Wop Music,” by Derrel Whitemeyer.    For Chapter 17 Click Here Larry looked at me then towards Kate, “Pretend for a moment we do agree to take you. Out of curiosity,

    This is a piece I feel compelled to write. It is about my own struggles with the idea of following only the true call of one’s heart. For this I will have to talk of my own dealings with God. But don’t worry because I am not, nor have ever been, even slightly

    Although this adventure took place sometime in the mid 2000s, I’ve decided to print it here for the benefit of any who would like to ride the huge ships that carry cars, semi trucks, motor homes, and motorcycles from the city of Bellingham, Washington to the distant shores of Alaska. For most everything

    Editor’s note: The following story is from the book, “The Further Adventures of The Borderland Biker, In Memory of Indian Larry and Doo Wop Music,” by Derrel Whitemeyer.    For Chapter 16 Click Here   “Roll with the mystery, life’s uncertain; just be comfortable with that. Why fight it?” Indian Larry    

    Late July of 2013 The Great Plains offer a wide open world of flat land paved with grass, farmland and very few trees to obstruct the view. Out here the sky is the dominant force, for it stretches from one endless horizon to the other leaving those on the ground to feel almost