Reclining on his iconic steed ,in a time when all was in ubiquitous black and white , his hand affectionately on the tank , toothpick dangling from a confident sneer , the hair so James Deanesque , he was a man to be emulated . Horribly it was to come to an abrupt demise , an unholy alloy of Milwaukee steel and speeding mid - 90's sheet metal , the smell of rubber and fuel hanging in the heavy air . The driver attempted to swerve left , but was not able to completely negotiate the turn and finish the text message simultaneously . As the acrid smoke , fear ,and utter horror dissipated , a Phoenix emerged , wielding a ball peen hammer , a vengeful god , driven by retaliation .
this must be finished in Tales From the Road , or Parking lot . P.S. - he lives and continues to ride with his Hammer .
