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BACK in the main bar of The Lava Pit , around a table discreetly positioned in a softly lit corner , the lads sat in wonderment and awe as Elvis held court and told his remarkable story . ‘ Awesome ,’ Fred sighed as he cast his eyes over the yellowing and crumpled plans the real King had laid out before him .
They showed a landscape saturated in all things motorcycling .
A huge central racetrack , with a smaller track ( for smaller bikes he surmised ) inside it . Great halls with grand names like ‘ The Hall of Champions ’ and ‘ A Parade of the Fast and Furious ’ were dotted across the landscape . Even the trees and the shrubs were cut into the shapes of motorcycle parts .
He looked up at Elvis and detected a slight shake of the head .
“ It woulda ’ been bigger than awesome ... bigger than Texas ,” Elvis lamented .
“ I had it all planned . I had the money and I had the vision . I just wish ar hadda had the diction .”
Gandar , perplexed , asked the great man to explain .
He told Gandar and the lads of
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how he had tired of the whole music business . How things started going pear shaped from the day he went into the army ... and how it never got any better because it seemed there was always a colonel looking over his shoulder and telling him what to do .
“ There was a film ...” Elvis said after a short silence .
“ Had to ride a motorcycle . Small one ... red one . Riding along , singin ’ some shit ... thinkin ’ that this was pretty cool . So I bought 15 of `em .”
Fred asked Elvis if he ever rode anything more ‘ attitudinal ’ than purring little Oriental toys . “ Oh yessir ... V-twins and ironware from the old lands of Meridan .”
Elvis went on to tell of how he had engineers and technicians and consultants draw up the great plans for his motorcycle wonderland . A place where he could ride and race with his buddies ... and take the chequered flag every day .
“ I told `em I wanted it done right . I said build me Racelands and build it good .”
Fred looked at Gandar . Nev looked at Crozman . Arasole looked at Baz . Gimlett looked at
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the barman and nodded for another pint of Creme de Menthe . No one looked at Nobby because he was dead and no longer with them .
“ I know , I know ,” Elvis said , with head drooping .
“ I had a mouthful of burger and they didn ’ t hear me right . I said I wanted to build Racelands ... next thing I know I ’ m being welcomed to Gracelands . Kinda broke my heart ... never left the place again .”
From behind closed curtains and locked doors Elvis watched the world and the passing years unfold from the screen of a television set . He watched , fuming , as his old rock ’ n ’ roll rival Rich Clifford restored not only his 60- year-old motorcycle but also his 60-year-old face .
“ Sonofabitch never looked better ,” he would murmur as close aides wrung their hands and helped themselves to what they could while the gravy train was still on the tracks .
After another silence Gandar , well practiced in assuring the fallen , patted Elvis on the shoulder and leaned toward his right ear .
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“ I think we may be able to help you realise a dream ,” he whispered .
WATCH THE THREADS , MAN ! “ Watch the threads man ,” Elvis replied before asking Gandar to go on .
Which he did ... and the mouths of the gathered few good blokes all fell open ... especially Gimlett ’ s as he sent another few litres of ouzo down his throat .
Gandar explained the quest he and his small but committed band were on . How they had to cast the third piston ring into the lava pit it was forged in , and how its destruction would destroy the evil plans of Sidney Neville Sorceron who needed all three rings to create the perfect engine .
“ He ’ s got the other two , right ?”
Elvis murmured . Gandar nodded . “ But not for much longer . I have a plan to steal the two rings and build the perfect engine myself .”
There was a stunned silence as his six companions all looked at each other in astonishment , and
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26 Kiwi Rider – August 2003 |
KIWI RIDER 59 |