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By Keith R.Ball

Four in the morning. The streets are pitch black and deserted. A lone street light flickers on the corner, its pole sprayed with fluorescent graffiti and smudged with 40 years of exhaust smoke. The brick buildings lining the Kansas City street are dark beneath decades of accumlated coal dust floating from the skies. This is a ghost town, lifeless and silent except for the crack of mechanical thunder reverberating against the stone walls. Windows shake and rattle like skeletons as the lone motorcycle blasts along the dusty streets, sparking evil into the night. The furious rider leans forward,slim,dark glasses bouncing on the bridge of his nose as his narrow gray goatee lashes his face like a bullwhip. Heading home at last, after a night spent drinking Jack Daniel's and chasing women, the motorcyclist barely notices his scoot's mid-30's front end bouncing against the bear trap-size potholes and skidding along the damp pavement.
That lone rider was David Mann on his red 1957 Harley-Davidson, living the life he has portrayed in Easyriders for the last 23 years.

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