Welcome to the Borderlands
- Chapter 32 -
Scrambled Chopper or Chopped Scrambler or Potato or Pawtawtoe
“When I die I want to meet God and say, what the Hell were you thinking…like what were you thinking?” -Indian Larry from an episode of Discovery Channel’s television series THE GREAT BIKER BUILD-OFF
“I see the angel in the marble and carve until I set him free…Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.” -Michelangelo
“I get some ideas of kind of what I want to do then whatever it takes to see it through; that’s the way I do it. I treat it like sculpture. I like to see the frame up there and then let it flow; let it happen, whatever comes natural. When you hear the bike breathe its first breath that’s probably the biggest reward…every bike is like a child or work of art, like a creation that goes from dream to reality.” -Kendall Johnson of KENDALL JOHNSON CUSTOMS from an episode of Discovery Channel’s television series THE GREAT BIKER BUILD-OFF
“Roll with the mystery; life’s uncertain. Just be comfortable with that…why fight it?” -Indian Larry from an episode of Discovery Channel’s television series THE GREAT BIKER BUILD-OFF
“I have more faith in you than you have in you.” -Paul Cox to Robert Pradke from an episode of Discovery Channel’s television series THE GREAT BIKER BUILD-OFF and MATTHEW 14:31
“Trust in God…Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord…No Fear…” -TATTOOED ‘backwards’ on Indian Larry’s neck so he could read it in the mirror.
“I see the angel in the marble and carve until I set him free…Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.” -Michelangelo
“I get some ideas of kind of what I want to do then whatever it takes to see it through; that’s the way I do it. I treat it like sculpture. I like to see the frame up there and then let it flow; let it happen, whatever comes natural. When you hear the bike breathe its first breath that’s probably the biggest reward…every bike is like a child or work of art, like a creation that goes from dream to reality.” -Kendall Johnson of KENDALL JOHNSON CUSTOMS from an episode of Discovery Channel’s television series THE GREAT BIKER BUILD-OFF
“Roll with the mystery; life’s uncertain. Just be comfortable with that…why fight it?” -Indian Larry from an episode of Discovery Channel’s television series THE GREAT BIKER BUILD-OFF
“I have more faith in you than you have in you.” -Paul Cox to Robert Pradke from an episode of Discovery Channel’s television series THE GREAT BIKER BUILD-OFF and MATTHEW 14:31
“Trust in God…Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord…No Fear…” -TATTOOED ‘backwards’ on Indian Larry’s neck so he could read it in the mirror.
With a smile, actually more teeth than smile, Shaun the velociraptor agreed to spend the rest of the day out of sight. He’d then emerge at nightfall and blend in with the Spanky’s Café crowd as Shaun the friendly chameleon and sing karaoke songs with them until closing time. No one but our small group knew Shaun was a shape shifting chameleon at night and a velociraptor during the day.
An all you can eat buffet catered to be eaten inside Spanky’s Café’s cooler for Shaun not only prevented another hive from forming but solved any problem Shaun might have had in getting enough protein. Shaun prefers to live at night as a chameleon eating customer’s half eaten meals and cigarette butts and drinking their leftover beer then going on stage with them and singing karaoke. However the velociraptor he turns into when the sun rises demands some real protein…think of an old 1940s werewolf movie but in reverse.
With a smile, actually more teeth than smile, Shaun the velociraptor agreed not to cause a panic and to spend the rest of the day out of sight. He’d then emerge at nightfall and blend in with the Spanky’s Café crowd as Shaun the friendly chameleon and sing karaoke songs until closing time. No one but our small group knew Shaun was a shape shifting chameleon at night and a velociraptor during the day.
“Your decision to indulge in the ‘All-you-can-eat-buffet’ we set up for you saved our bacon,” said Larry. “Were there any issues with the drivers? They seemed like a surly bunch.”
Shaun responded by smiling his favorite more-teeth-than-smile smile, “Let’s just say that in their eagerness to harm me they became angry. Blood oxygenated by anger followed by fear smells best and has the best flavor so I ate them first. Couldn’t let good taste go to waste could I?”
“How,” I had to ask what everyone was thinking, “was the main course…the newly hatched hive?”
“Crunchy, movingly zestful and with lots of flavor;” Shaun answered as if he were reading from a feature review he’d just written critiquing a four star restaurant, “and I do mean ‘movingly’ as in ‘to move about’ zestful.”
“Any of you,” Hilts cut short our grisly, or was it gristly or grizzly, thoughts of what ‘movingly’ meant, “seen Ma n’ Pa?”
“No, but of immediate importance is…,” Kate interrupted.
“We should have heard from them,” Hilts in turn interrupted Kate’s interruption. “They’re an integral part of the Borderlands; they’re the keystone holding them together.”
With a smile, actually more teeth than smile, Shaun the velociraptor agreed not to cause a panic and to spend the rest of the day out of sight. He’d then emerge at nightfall and blend in with the Spanky’s Café crowd as Shaun the friendly chameleon and sing karaoke songs until closing time. No one but our small group knew Shaun was a shape shifting chameleon at night and a velociraptor during the day.
“Your decision to indulge in the ‘All-you-can-eat-buffet’ we set up for you saved our bacon,” said Larry. “Were there any issues with the drivers? They seemed like a surly bunch.”
Shaun responded by smiling his favorite more-teeth-than-smile smile, “Let’s just say that in their eagerness to harm me they became angry. Blood oxygenated by anger followed by fear smells best and has the best flavor so I ate them first. Couldn’t let good taste go to waste could I?”
“How,” I had to ask what everyone was thinking, “was the main course…the newly hatched hive?”
“Crunchy, movingly zestful and with lots of flavor;” Shaun answered as if he were reading from a feature review he’d just written critiquing a four star restaurant, “and I do mean ‘movingly’ as in ‘to move about’ zestful.”
“Any of you,” Hilts cut short our grisly, or was it gristly or grizzly, thoughts of what ‘movingly’ meant, “seen Ma n’ Pa?”
“No, but of immediate importance is…,” Kate interrupted.
“We should have heard from them,” Hilts in turn interrupted Kate’s interruption. “They’re an integral part of the Borderlands; they’re the keystone holding them together.”
“Forget theories! Of more importance is…,” Medea had interrupted me, who’d interrupted Hilts, who’d been interrupted, “…Kendall’s taken one of his Rat Rods and headed out across the Wastelands. He must have overheard Kate talking to Charon and me.”
“I’ve a theory,” said Kate, “as to why we’ve not heard from Ma n’ Pa and why recent events are becoming more and more out of harmony.”
I had to ask Kate what her theory was at the same time hoping it wasn’t similar to my own.
“So what’s your theory?”
“Forget theories! Of more importance is…,” Medea had interrupted me, who’d interrupted Hilts, who’d been interrupted by Kate, “…Kendall’s taken one of his Rat Rods and headed out across the Wastelands. He must have overheard Kate talking to Charon and me.”
“I thought he was,” I asked, “staying at his cabin and resting his leg?”
“He was,” Medea replied, “or should have been.”
“When he was getting his leg bandaged he must’ve overheard me telling Medea,” Kate answered the rest of my question, “what I thought was wrong with the Borderlands and what must be done to correct the problem.”
“And,” Hilts finished, “he’s most likely made a plan and taken it upon himself to make the correction himself.”
“Let’s hope he’s not planning,” I said, “some kind of I’ve-gotta-fall-on-a-grenade-to-fix-things plan?”
“His plan could very well be that kind of plan and he doesn’t know it,” Medea’s voice was ominous.
“How could he not know?”
“Because,” Medea continued, “what needs to be fixed is inside the upper level of Hell. Only Charon and I can go. You and Larry went there and were lucky to get back. If Kendall goes he’ll most likely be trapped…you need to stop him.”
“Then you’ll need,” said Hilts, “something a lot closer to a dual-sport than the cruisers you’ve been riding.”
“The,” I felt I was pointing out the obvious, “Vegas 8-Ball and the Raider have a lot more speed than any dual-sport.”
“You’re right,” Hilts agreed, “if you’re talking about straight away speed, but wrong if you’re talking about the agility needed to navigate narrow city streets and dirt roads.”
I had to ask Kate what her theory was at the same time hoping it wasn’t similar to my own.
“So what’s your theory?”
“Forget theories! Of more importance is…,” Medea had interrupted me, who’d interrupted Hilts, who’d been interrupted by Kate, “…Kendall’s taken one of his Rat Rods and headed out across the Wastelands. He must have overheard Kate talking to Charon and me.”
“I thought he was,” I asked, “staying at his cabin and resting his leg?”
“He was,” Medea replied, “or should have been.”
“When he was getting his leg bandaged he must’ve overheard me telling Medea,” Kate answered the rest of my question, “what I thought was wrong with the Borderlands and what must be done to correct the problem.”
“And,” Hilts finished, “he’s most likely made a plan and taken it upon himself to make the correction himself.”
“Let’s hope he’s not planning,” I said, “some kind of I’ve-gotta-fall-on-a-grenade-to-fix-things plan?”
“His plan could very well be that kind of plan and he doesn’t know it,” Medea’s voice was ominous.
“How could he not know?”
“Because,” Medea continued, “what needs to be fixed is inside the upper level of Hell. Only Charon and I can go. You and Larry went there and were lucky to get back. If Kendall goes he’ll most likely be trapped…you need to stop him.”
“Then you’ll need,” said Hilts, “something a lot closer to a dual-sport than the cruisers you’ve been riding.”
“The,” I felt I was pointing out the obvious, “Vegas 8-Ball and the Raider have a lot more speed than any dual-sport.”
“You’re right,” Hilts agreed, “if you’re talking about straight away speed, but wrong if you’re talking about the agility needed to navigate narrow city streets and dirt roads.”
“I’ve also made three pair of extra large green lens glasses…that’s green as in the emerald green glasses Dorothy had to wear in the “Wizard of Oz” story. With them you’ll be able to see the route you’re to follow. The third pair is for Kendall. He’ll need them to find his way back here.”
“City streets…aren’t we crossing the Wastelands?”
“You will be,” cut in Kate, “but only for a short time.”
“Why,” I had to ask, “for only a short time?”
“You’ll only be in the Wastelands,” added Kate, “for the time it takes you to ride to where pieces of other Borderlands have collected. They’re a collection of discordant pieces from different times that joined together next to the river Styx.”
“What do you mean by discordant pieces?”
“They’re pieces of other Borderlands from alternate realities and from different times. Yet they’re similar enough to share commonalities. They’ve joined, rather drifted together where these commonalities meet, but not harmoniously…sort of like bad improvisational jazz. When enough of them cluster together they’ll be drawn over the river Styx and into the Ninth Level of Hell.”
“Have any clusters,” I had to ask, “crossed into Hell?”
“So far only one cluster has crossed. Other clusters will soon follow…the process needs to be stopped,” said Hilts. “So I’ve conjured two bikes for you. I’ve also made you three pair of large green lens glasses…that’s green as in the emerald green glasses Dorothy wore in the Wizard of Oz story. With them you’ll be able to see the route you’re to follow. The third pair is for Kendall to find his way back here.”
“Kendall’s got a pretty good head start?”
“That’s correct,” agreed Kate, “but not to worry; he’ll stop at the River Inn. The inn is just across the River Styx from the upper level of Hell where the first cluster of Borderland pieces has moved. Amend that to it’s in Kendall’s DNA to stop for the River Inn’s 2 for 1 beer night. Find him, give him the green glasses and send him back. Oh, and tell him at Spanky’s Café I’ll match the River Inn’s 2 for 1 beer night.”
“Does that offer,” laughed Charon from the doorway, “extend to the rest of us?”
“If we can fix the rift between the upper level of Hell and the Borderlands,” Kate wasn’t laughing, “then yes.”
“And if we can’t…,” added Larry?
“You will be,” cut in Kate, “but only for a short time.”
“Why,” I had to ask, “for only a short time?”
“You’ll only be in the Wastelands,” added Kate, “for the time it takes you to ride to where pieces of other Borderlands have collected. They’re a collection of discordant pieces from different times that joined together next to the river Styx.”
“What do you mean by discordant pieces?”
“They’re pieces of other Borderlands from alternate realities and from different times. Yet they’re similar enough to share commonalities. They’ve joined, rather drifted together where these commonalities meet, but not harmoniously…sort of like bad improvisational jazz. When enough of them cluster together they’ll be drawn over the river Styx and into the Ninth Level of Hell.”
“Have any clusters,” I had to ask, “crossed into Hell?”
“So far only one cluster has crossed. Other clusters will soon follow…the process needs to be stopped,” said Hilts. “So I’ve conjured two bikes for you. I’ve also made you three pair of large green lens glasses…that’s green as in the emerald green glasses Dorothy wore in the Wizard of Oz story. With them you’ll be able to see the route you’re to follow. The third pair is for Kendall to find his way back here.”
“Kendall’s got a pretty good head start?”
“That’s correct,” agreed Kate, “but not to worry; he’ll stop at the River Inn. The inn is just across the River Styx from the upper level of Hell where the first cluster of Borderland pieces has moved. Amend that to it’s in Kendall’s DNA to stop for the River Inn’s 2 for 1 beer night. Find him, give him the green glasses and send him back. Oh, and tell him at Spanky’s Café I’ll match the River Inn’s 2 for 1 beer night.”
“Does that offer,” laughed Charon from the doorway, “extend to the rest of us?”
“If we can fix the rift between the upper level of Hell and the Borderlands,” Kate wasn’t laughing, “then yes.”
“And if we can’t…,” added Larry?
Hilts went on to describe the two bikes, “With their lower gearing and only five speeds they’ll be lucky to get much above 115 mph. They’ll never have the top end speed of the Raider or the M109 or the Vegas 8-Ball…or even the Triumph. But when it comes to navigating the twists and turns of dirt roads they’ll more than make up for it.”
“And if we can’t,” Charon was no longer laughing, “then 2 for 1 beer nights will be the least of our worries.”
I’d always suspected Ma n’ Pa were the architects behind the Borderlands. Benign beings or being, being meaning I’d once watched them both flow together and become one giant figure of light. They had appeared at the beginning of my journeys into the Borderlands.
Hilts was almost as mysterious. An apprentice conjuror to Ma n’ Pa, Hilts would weave in and out of our adventures. Most often he’d appear when Larry and I had taken a wrong turn or made a bad decision or were unable to make a decision. Sometimes he would appear before we needed help. He once told us he was a blend of two characters he’d played in two different movies. The first was a bullet dodging San Francisco police detective the second an escaped pilot from a WWII German prison camp. He told us that upon crossing into the Borderlands he’d become a combination of both characters but more and more seemed to favor the escaped pilot.
Minutes later we’d all walked outside of Spanky’s Café. The parking lot was empty but for Charon’s car and two motorcycles. The motorcycles looked virtually identical. Charon walked over to his car to get another bottle of water. When away from the river Styx Charon had to periodically drink its water. If he didn’t he’d turn to mist. He’d stored dozens of bottles in his car’s backseat.
Hilts in the meantime had gone over to stand behind the two motorcycles. He looked down on them as if reminiscing about something that had happened long ago.
“It would’ve been GREAT if I’d had one of these Yamaha SCR950s when I was trying to ESCAPE from Germany into Switzerland,” Hilts said shaking his head as if trying to erase in his mind a mistake he’d made many years ago. “Might’ve taken a different route…might not have had to have made that damn jump over the barriers…nothing against the Triumph 650 I was riding but things might’ve turned out differently…just saying…”
I’d always suspected Ma n’ Pa were the architects behind the Borderlands. Benign beings or being, being meaning I’d once watched them both flow together and become one giant figure of light. They had appeared at the beginning of my journeys into the Borderlands.
Hilts was almost as mysterious. An apprentice conjuror to Ma n’ Pa, Hilts would weave in and out of our adventures. Most often he’d appear when Larry and I had taken a wrong turn or made a bad decision or were unable to make a decision. Sometimes he would appear before we needed help. He once told us he was a blend of two characters he’d played in two different movies. The first was a bullet dodging San Francisco police detective the second an escaped pilot from a WWII German prison camp. He told us that upon crossing into the Borderlands he’d become a combination of both characters but more and more seemed to favor the escaped pilot.
Minutes later we’d all walked outside of Spanky’s Café. The parking lot was empty but for Charon’s car and two motorcycles. The motorcycles looked virtually identical. Charon walked over to his car to get another bottle of water. When away from the river Styx Charon had to periodically drink its water. If he didn’t he’d turn to mist. He’d stored dozens of bottles in his car’s backseat.
Hilts in the meantime had gone over to stand behind the two motorcycles. He looked down on them as if reminiscing about something that had happened long ago.
“It would’ve been GREAT if I’d had one of these Yamaha SCR950s when I was trying to ESCAPE from Germany into Switzerland,” Hilts said shaking his head as if trying to erase in his mind a mistake he’d made many years ago. “Might’ve taken a different route…might not have had to have made that damn jump over the barriers…nothing against the Triumph 650 I was riding but things might’ve turned out differently…just saying…”
“It would’ve been GREAT if I’d had one of these Yamaha SCR950s when I was trying to ESCAPE from Germany into Switzerland,” Hilts said shaking his head as if trying to erase in his mind a mistake he’d made many years ago. “Might’ve taken a different route…might not have had to have made that damn jump over the barriers…nothing against the Triumph 650 I was riding but things might’ve turned out differently…just saying…”
“Hey, don’t mind me. I was just thinking back to one of my many would-ah, should-ah, could-ah memories.”
Hilts went on to describe the two bikes, “With their lower gearing and only five speeds they’ll be lucky to get much above 115 mph. They’ll never have the top end speed of the Raider or the M109 or the Vegas 8-Ball or even the Triumph. But when it comes to navigating the twists and turns of dirt roads they’ll more than make up for it.”
“They remind me,” said Larry wistfully, “of some of the choppers I used to build. Back then I built ‘em like I liked my women…tight and light and with about a 30 degree rake. I made ‘em with Brooklyn corners and Sleepy Hollow switchbacks in mind.”
Larry then sat on one of the bikes, “They’re sorta like a cross between a chopper and a scrambler…like a scrambler that’s been chopped or chopper that’s been scrambled.”
“Hey, can I use that name,” laughed Kate, “for my new breakfast dish at Spanky’s Café? Chopped n’ scrambled will be my ‘early bird’ veggie omelet special.”
I walked over and sat on the other SCR950. Chopped scrambler or scrambled chopper or by any other hybrid or hyphenated name is still a rose…a rose is a rose. Call them whatever you wanted. With their shorter wheelbase and being lighter than the Raider and the M109 by nearly 300 pounds; they’d be perfect for the dirt roads and city streets Larry and I had to ride. And having only a 115 mph plus top end was still pretty respectable when mixed with their off-road capabilities.
“They may be hyphenates or hybrid mixtures,” I said thinking of how Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer was made fun of until folks needed him to guide their sleigh, “teasingly called chopped scramblers or scrambled choppers but they’re perfect for where we’ll be riding.”
“Speaking of riding,” said Hilts, “you two need to get started. You’ve about three hours before the River Inn closes.”
“Kate added, “And don’t forget to tell him about Spanky’s 2 for 1 beer night.”
Hilts went on to describe the two bikes, “With their lower gearing and only five speeds they’ll be lucky to get much above 115 mph. They’ll never have the top end speed of the Raider or the M109 or the Vegas 8-Ball or even the Triumph. But when it comes to navigating the twists and turns of dirt roads they’ll more than make up for it.”
“They remind me,” said Larry wistfully, “of some of the choppers I used to build. Back then I built ‘em like I liked my women…tight and light and with about a 30 degree rake. I made ‘em with Brooklyn corners and Sleepy Hollow switchbacks in mind.”
Larry then sat on one of the bikes, “They’re sorta like a cross between a chopper and a scrambler…like a scrambler that’s been chopped or chopper that’s been scrambled.”
“Hey, can I use that name,” laughed Kate, “for my new breakfast dish at Spanky’s Café? Chopped n’ scrambled will be my ‘early bird’ veggie omelet special.”
I walked over and sat on the other SCR950. Chopped scrambler or scrambled chopper or by any other hybrid or hyphenated name is still a rose…a rose is a rose. Call them whatever you wanted. With their shorter wheelbase and being lighter than the Raider and the M109 by nearly 300 pounds; they’d be perfect for the dirt roads and city streets Larry and I had to ride. And having only a 115 mph plus top end was still pretty respectable when mixed with their off-road capabilities.
“They may be hyphenates or hybrid mixtures,” I said thinking of how Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer was made fun of until folks needed him to guide their sleigh, “teasingly called chopped scramblers or scrambled choppers but they’re perfect for where we’ll be riding.”
“Speaking of riding,” said Hilts, “you two need to get started. You’ve about three hours before the River Inn closes.”
“Kate added, “And don’t forget to tell him about Spanky’s 2 for 1 beer night.”
“They remind me,” said Larry wistfully, “of some of the choppers I used to build. Back then I built ‘em like I liked my women… tight and light and with about a 30 degree rake. I made ‘em with Brooklyn corners and Sleepy Hollow switchbacks in mind.”
I’d be swapping the Raider with Hilts; he and Kate had important things to do. In exchange I would be taking one of the newly conjured hyphenated-hybrid bikes.
Except for what I normally carried in my backpack I’d already strapped my other belongings in a small bag on the handlebars and in a rolled bundle to the SCR950’s backseat.
“I’ll lead,” said Larry slipping on the emerald green glasses and starting his bike. “Oh, and with these glasses you can see the ‘yellow brick road’…just kidding…the yellow guide line on the road heading into the Wastelands.”
Past the gate leading to Spanky’s Café our ride remained uneventful. Even our entrance onto the road into the Wastelands and the miles we rode before passing through what was left of the deserted town that had housed the ‘Queen’ and her hive went without incident. It wasn’t until we’d gone about fifty miles that the Wastelands began to live-up to their name. Dry brown hills covered with sun burnt grass soon became our only view with a clear night sky as background.
“Pull over at the next turnout,” said Larry over our little earplug radios we both wore when we were riding.
At the same time he said to pull over at the next turnout he slowed down and pulled over at the next turnout.
“The road’s starting to be overrun with strands of dirt and grass. In a year,” Larry continued, “it’ll be covered. Thankfully the special glasses Hilts gave us show the yellow line that shows the way we need to ride.”
“I can see,” I added, “the tire tracks of Kendall’s Rat Rod. They’re going the same direction we’re going.”
Larry got off his bike and walked over to where the Rat Rod’s tire tracks pushed into the soil. Squatting down he rolled his hands over the tracks then slowly stood up.
“In a day or so these tracks will be gone, but by then Kendall will have driven back to Spanky’s Café. If he wears the glasses Hilts made to guide him he’ll have no problems.”
“Kate’s offer,” I laughed, “to erase his bar tab and the 2 for 1 beer at Spanky’s will guide him better.”
Except for what I normally carried in my backpack I’d already strapped my other belongings in a small bag on the handlebars and in a rolled bundle to the SCR950’s backseat.
“I’ll lead,” said Larry slipping on the emerald green glasses and starting his bike. “Oh, and with these glasses you can see the ‘yellow brick road’…just kidding…the yellow guide line on the road heading into the Wastelands.”
Past the gate leading to Spanky’s Café our ride remained uneventful. Even our entrance onto the road into the Wastelands and the miles we rode before passing through what was left of the deserted town that had housed the ‘Queen’ and her hive went without incident. It wasn’t until we’d gone about fifty miles that the Wastelands began to live-up to their name. Dry brown hills covered with sun burnt grass soon became our only view with a clear night sky as background.
“Pull over at the next turnout,” said Larry over our little earplug radios we both wore when we were riding.
At the same time he said to pull over at the next turnout he slowed down and pulled over at the next turnout.
“The road’s starting to be overrun with strands of dirt and grass. In a year,” Larry continued, “it’ll be covered. Thankfully the special glasses Hilts gave us show the yellow line that shows the way we need to ride.”
“I can see,” I added, “the tire tracks of Kendall’s Rat Rod. They’re going the same direction we’re going.”
Larry got off his bike and walked over to where the Rat Rod’s tire tracks pushed into the soil. Squatting down he rolled his hands over the tracks then slowly stood up.
“In a day or so these tracks will be gone, but by then Kendall will have driven back to Spanky’s Café. If he wears the glasses Hilts made to guide him he’ll have no problems.”
“Kate’s offer,” I laughed, “to erase his bar tab and the 2 for 1 beer at Spanky’s will guide him better.”
Except for what I normally carried in my backpack I’d already strapped my other belongings in a small bag on the handlebars and in a rolled bundle to the SCR950’s backseat.
Hybrid or hyphenate, potato or pawtawtoe, scrambled chopper or chopped scrambler; our new bikes served us well especially through the hard packed dirt and brown grass sections. A lot of their success was due to their relatively light weight when compared to the Raider and the M109. I lost track of how many times Larry reminded me to stand up on the pegs and bend my knees when riding on the dirt parts of the road.
“Stand up on your pegs! Bend your knees!”…became Larry’s mantra as he coached me through the off-road sections. This went on for what seemed like another twenty miles before the dry grassland ended and the road became free of dirt encroachments. At the next turnout Larry pulled off. Our road was now paved and led to the river Styx. Directly across the river was a cluster of different colored buildings.
“No one’s driving in our direction.”
“Would you,” laughed Larry, “drive into these Wastelands if you didn’t have to?”
Across the river Styx on the edge of the Ninth Level of Hell was a small cluster of pastel colored buildings. Each of the town’s buildings looked as if it had been pulled from a different time period…different colors for different eras. I could see why Kate referred to them as a patchwork or quilt made from different Borderlands.
“Kate,” I said, “called them a ‘quilt’ made from pieces of other Borderlands from other time periods clustered together because they shared a few common threads.”
Between us and the buildings was the river Styx. A narrow bridge crossed the river. Cross the bridge and you’d enter the Ninth Level of Hell. On our side of the river was the River Inn. Model T Fords to more modern cars were parked around it.
“We’ve still got some time before closing. We owe ourselves at least a couple 2 for 1 rounds of beer before we tell Kendall to drive back to Spanky’s. …we’ve earned it.”
Larry grinned, “…we’ve earned it.”
Inside the inn was a crowd that looked like they’d all been dressed by central casting in 1901 to 1999 clothes.
“Stand up on your pegs! Bend your knees!”…became Larry’s mantra as he coached me through the off-road sections. This went on for what seemed like another twenty miles before the dry grassland ended and the road became free of dirt encroachments. At the next turnout Larry pulled off. Our road was now paved and led to the river Styx. Directly across the river was a cluster of different colored buildings.
“No one’s driving in our direction.”
“Would you,” laughed Larry, “drive into these Wastelands if you didn’t have to?”
Across the river Styx on the edge of the Ninth Level of Hell was a small cluster of pastel colored buildings. Each of the town’s buildings looked as if it had been pulled from a different time period…different colors for different eras. I could see why Kate referred to them as a patchwork or quilt made from different Borderlands.
“Kate,” I said, “called them a ‘quilt’ made from pieces of other Borderlands from other time periods clustered together because they shared a few common threads.”
Between us and the buildings was the river Styx. A narrow bridge crossed the river. Cross the bridge and you’d enter the Ninth Level of Hell. On our side of the river was the River Inn. Model T Fords to more modern cars were parked around it.
“We’ve still got some time before closing. We owe ourselves at least a couple 2 for 1 rounds of beer before we tell Kendall to drive back to Spanky’s. …we’ve earned it.”
Larry grinned, “…we’ve earned it.”
Inside the inn was a crowd that looked like they’d all been dressed by central casting in 1901 to 1999 clothes.
Across the river Styx on the edge of the Ninth Level of Hell was a small cluster of pastel colored buildings. Each of the town’s buildings looked as if it had been pulled from a different time period…different colors for different eras. I could see why Kate referred to them as a patchwork or quilt made from different Borderlands.
Kendall had cornered a corner table and by the collection of empty bottles was already taking advantage of the 2 for 1 beer. His huge papa bear forearms rested in front of him as a reminder of what would happen to anyone foolish enough to drink his porridge.
“Hey stranger,” said Larry at the same time sliding into the chair next to Kendall, “can we share your table?”
Kendall, whose eyes had been closed as if in hibernation, I mean meditation, opened them and turned towards us.
“Unless you two wanna wear your smiles on the back of your heads I suggest you find somewhere else to…Hey! …grab a chair…just thinking about you…you two here for the 2 for 1 beer too? They brew their own…my treat…”
“Just a few of rounds,” said Larry, “but then we gotta talk. Kate’s found out why pieces of the Borderlands are breaking away then clustering together and then drifting into the upper level of Hell and maybe a way to stop it from happening.”
For the next hour the band kept belting out the ‘Oldies’ and we kept belting down the beer. Finally with “In the Still of the Night” ending the band’s final session; the River Inn closed. Afterwards when the other customers including the River Inn’s staff had left…the room became silent.
“The lead guitarist,” I said pointing to the side of the stage and at an old Martin guitar in a stand, “left his guitar.”
“That’s the very guitar I used in 1956 on the Ed Sullivan Show,” said a voice from behind us.
“Why did you add,” asked Larry without turning around, “the electronic feed? Your songs didn’t need any help.”
“Management said I had to keep up with the times and since it’s getting harder to find gigs; I went ahead and added the amp…finally made my ol’ Martin into an electric. But thank you, thank-you-very-much for the complement.”
“And now I think I know why,” Larry smiled knowingly at Kendall, “you really came out here to the River Inn.”
Kendall laughed, “For the 2 for 1 beer of course…Oh, and I know a way we can get Kate’s plan to work.”
“Hey stranger,” said Larry at the same time sliding into the chair next to Kendall, “can we share your table?”
Kendall, whose eyes had been closed as if in hibernation, I mean meditation, opened them and turned towards us.
“Unless you two wanna wear your smiles on the back of your heads I suggest you find somewhere else to…Hey! …grab a chair…just thinking about you…you two here for the 2 for 1 beer too? They brew their own…my treat…”
“Just a few of rounds,” said Larry, “but then we gotta talk. Kate’s found out why pieces of the Borderlands are breaking away then clustering together and then drifting into the upper level of Hell and maybe a way to stop it from happening.”
For the next hour the band kept belting out the ‘Oldies’ and we kept belting down the beer. Finally with “In the Still of the Night” ending the band’s final session; the River Inn closed. Afterwards when the other customers including the River Inn’s staff had left…the room became silent.
“The lead guitarist,” I said pointing to the side of the stage and at an old Martin guitar in a stand, “left his guitar.”
“That’s the very guitar I used in 1956 on the Ed Sullivan Show,” said a voice from behind us.
“Why did you add,” asked Larry without turning around, “the electronic feed? Your songs didn’t need any help.”
“Management said I had to keep up with the times and since it’s getting harder to find gigs; I went ahead and added the amp…finally made my ol’ Martin into an electric. But thank you, thank-you-very-much for the complement.”
“And now I think I know why,” Larry smiled knowingly at Kendall, “you really came out here to the River Inn.”
Kendall laughed, “For the 2 for 1 beer of course…Oh, and I know a way we can get Kate’s plan to work.”
“Management said I had to keep up with the times and since it’s getting harder to find gigs; I went ahead and added the amp…finally made my ol’ Martin into an electric. But thank you, thank-you-very-much for the complement.”
Suddenly it was as if we’d all drank a gallon of Kate’s supercharged coffee. Any buzz the 2 for 1 beer had given us disappeared. Larry was as sober as I’d ever seen him as was I. The musician that owned the old Martin guitar, amend that to an old/new electric Martin guitar, had pulled up a chair. And Kendall with rock steady hands was already spreading out a crude map of the cluster of buildings across the river.
“How did you know,” I asked looking directly at Kendall, “Larry and I would ride out here to the River Inn to stop you from crossing into the upper level of Hell?”
“It’s in your nature to help people. But to be honest my plan’s risky; there’s a chance it won’t work. However the chance it will work is much greater. It’s so straight forward ‘You-know-who’ is too proud to think we’ll attempt it.”
“TCB…TCB…I’ll help you folks in anyway I can,” said the lead guitarist who’d given away his identity when he said (thank you, thank-you-very-much).
Kendall finished spreading out the map and had put the salt shaker on a spot, the pepper shaker on another spot and the sugar shaker on still another spot.
“I need you,” said Kendall pointing at two of the three spots, “to place crystals in those locations.”
“Crystals?”
“Frozen water from the river Styx,” Kendall answered as if it were obvious to everyone but me. “They’ll only be about the size of an ice cube which means we’ll have a limited time to place them, and then get back here before they melt.”
“Who’s,” Larry asked, “placing the third crystal?”
“I will,” Kendall answered, “I’m the ‘we’ part in we’ll. The three crystals need to be activated together.”
“Not enough time to explain,” continued Kendall, “but suffice to say when you mix the minor chords of 1950s Doo Wop with the complimentary echoes of old time Rock and Roll you create hysteresis. The three crystals when activated will create that condition around the cluster.”
“Don’t you mean hysteria like in mass hysteria?”
“Nope,” Kendall smiled, “I mean hysteresis…I promise I’ll explain later.”
“It basically means,” Larry interrupted, “things are induced, helped, guided with the aid of complementary frequencies to return to their original state.”
I’d forgotten Larry, while in prison, had become a self-educated Renaissance man and could easily grasp the most sophisticated of theories.
“Kendall’s plan is to induce the cluster of pieces to return to their original state by making it easy for them to follow the magnetic fields that complement their existence back across the river Styx and out of the Ninth Level of Hell.”
“Why would they want,” I had to ask, “to do that?”
“Because,” continued Larry, “things, and by things I mean ‘all’ systems from galaxies to grandpa, seek equilibrium. My guess is the crystals will create a synchronous path through the discordance of Hell that’ll make it easy for the Borderland pieces to go back to their state of harmony.”
“Medea told us you should not cross into Hell. That’s why Larry and I rode out here. Oh, and I almost forgot…Kate said she’d create a 2 for 1 beer night at Spanky’s Café just for you.”
“And we were,” Larry added, “to give you these special green glasses. Hilts made them especially for you. He said you’d be able to find your way back wearing them.”
“Thanks for the glasses and I’ll take Kate up on her 2 for 1 beer offer but someone’s got to place the third crystal,” said Kendall. “Medea need not worry; I won’t be gone that long. Where I’ve got to go is the spot closest to the bridge. I’ll be ok. But we gotta do it now…like NOW!”
“TCB baby…TCB…I know where it has to be placed; I’ll take the damn crystal,” said the lead guitarist.
“I appreciate the offer,” said Kendall, “but you’ve got to stay here.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re the ‘Pied Piper’ that’ll be playing the guitar music the Borderland pieces will follow.”
“How did you know,” I asked looking directly at Kendall, “Larry and I would ride out here to the River Inn to stop you from crossing into the upper level of Hell?”
“It’s in your nature to help people. But to be honest my plan’s risky; there’s a chance it won’t work. However the chance it will work is much greater. It’s so straight forward ‘You-know-who’ is too proud to think we’ll attempt it.”
“TCB…TCB…I’ll help you folks in anyway I can,” said the lead guitarist who’d given away his identity when he said (thank you, thank-you-very-much).
Kendall finished spreading out the map and had put the salt shaker on a spot, the pepper shaker on another spot and the sugar shaker on still another spot.
“I need you,” said Kendall pointing at two of the three spots, “to place crystals in those locations.”
“Crystals?”
“Frozen water from the river Styx,” Kendall answered as if it were obvious to everyone but me. “They’ll only be about the size of an ice cube which means we’ll have a limited time to place them, and then get back here before they melt.”
“Who’s,” Larry asked, “placing the third crystal?”
“I will,” Kendall answered, “I’m the ‘we’ part in we’ll. The three crystals need to be activated together.”
“Not enough time to explain,” continued Kendall, “but suffice to say when you mix the minor chords of 1950s Doo Wop with the complimentary echoes of old time Rock and Roll you create hysteresis. The three crystals when activated will create that condition around the cluster.”
“Don’t you mean hysteria like in mass hysteria?”
“Nope,” Kendall smiled, “I mean hysteresis…I promise I’ll explain later.”
“It basically means,” Larry interrupted, “things are induced, helped, guided with the aid of complementary frequencies to return to their original state.”
I’d forgotten Larry, while in prison, had become a self-educated Renaissance man and could easily grasp the most sophisticated of theories.
“Kendall’s plan is to induce the cluster of pieces to return to their original state by making it easy for them to follow the magnetic fields that complement their existence back across the river Styx and out of the Ninth Level of Hell.”
“Why would they want,” I had to ask, “to do that?”
“Because,” continued Larry, “things, and by things I mean ‘all’ systems from galaxies to grandpa, seek equilibrium. My guess is the crystals will create a synchronous path through the discordance of Hell that’ll make it easy for the Borderland pieces to go back to their state of harmony.”
“Medea told us you should not cross into Hell. That’s why Larry and I rode out here. Oh, and I almost forgot…Kate said she’d create a 2 for 1 beer night at Spanky’s Café just for you.”
“And we were,” Larry added, “to give you these special green glasses. Hilts made them especially for you. He said you’d be able to find your way back wearing them.”
“Thanks for the glasses and I’ll take Kate up on her 2 for 1 beer offer but someone’s got to place the third crystal,” said Kendall. “Medea need not worry; I won’t be gone that long. Where I’ve got to go is the spot closest to the bridge. I’ll be ok. But we gotta do it now…like NOW!”
“TCB baby…TCB…I know where it has to be placed; I’ll take the damn crystal,” said the lead guitarist.
“I appreciate the offer,” said Kendall, “but you’ve got to stay here.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re the ‘Pied Piper’ that’ll be playing the guitar music the Borderland pieces will follow.”