Breaker. Breaker.

Breaker. Breaker.

Breaker. Breaker. Can I get a Charlie on 49? This is the good ol Victory Steed pulling through the 509 across three states as quick as a flash of lighting. Until daybreak I’ll be coming atcha on this rainy night. If you’re out there listening it’s much obliged. If you’re too shy to pipe up, don’t worry. I’ll keep telling my tale just the same. Started some 300 miles back in the opposite direction. The darkest stretch of the highway I’d seen yet. Spooky things happen out in the dark. Rain, pouring like buckets. Out of no where there’s a line of flares. One after another for about a ½ mile. Eerie red smoke dampened by the rain. Like out of nothing, there it was. The fucking mother of all wrecks. Red gives way to white smoke. Capsized semi with a passenger van smashed into the side of it. Both engulfed in flames. Wild gasoline inferno jumping up into the night sky. And sure enough there’s a survivor. Don’t worry now, I called in the wreck and gave the fellow a ride. Probably should’ve kept going. There he was, standing there with a busted flare in one hand and the other carrying a jack handle in its bloody grip. No need to holler at me. I stopped to offer assistance. Strange sort of guy. Sitting odd. Never letting loose of that jack handle. Dropped him off after a 100 mile stretch. Not a peep about the accident. In fact, pretty silent the entire way. Except for one thing, “Charlie dies.” Don’t make a lot of sense, but if there’s anyone out there named Charlie, get on that horn. Or at least heed my warning, cause there’s a storm headed your way. Victory Steed signing off. Have yourself a good night.


Not saying yet. Will get to it over the next few. Or it will become obvious, if it isn’t already. Sort of in the middle of this. Actually in the midst of 7 at the moment. These aren’t like the others though. And there isn’t much time. Will be juggling for a few more days. Thinking ‘300’? Right track. Hopefully this is appreciated. Enjoy? kisses. m.