Dreams Die Hard
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Frank Ross is heading towards the anonymity of the bright lights and big city in an attempt to make good his escape from cartel sicarios. He's got a reformed junkie riding bitch on the back of his motorcycle. Someone is throwing Molotov cocktails at them—and Frank doesn't even drink. When his ride ends in the parking lot of a strip club, the seedy edge of the city finally catches up, forcing Frank to dig deep within to triumph over drugs, greed, arson and murder.
Keywords: vacation trouble breakdown motorcycle biker drug coca coke scorpion cartel hit sicario cocaine harley davidson hog gang salton sea dance strip pole deal romance bad baja mexico
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Peter Duke's gypsy spirit has taken him to some strange places in the world, but now he's content to limit his adventures to riding a motorcycle and whatever he might encounter when he's on the road. Consequently, he's worked in bike shops doing odd jobs from planning and putting on rides, taking care of computer networking and security, and to picking up and delivering motorcycles in the El Lay basin, among other things.
Pretty boring stuff, isn’t it?
He's ridden over a lot of North America at one time or another from Canada to Mexico, and from Atlantic to Pacific. By far his favorite ride is up and down the length of the Baja Peninsula, where the people are friendly, the sun always shines and it’s warm in the winter.
Of everything that he has experienced in his all-too-brief life, Africa is perhaps the greatest enigma. It's a beautiful continent, rich in people, nature and resources, yet poor in all of those areas too.
There are some missing years in there, but a little mystery is good for the soul, wouldn’t you say?
