Alice Cooper -
The summer Christian graduated, Jason was still around, though his head was already gone.
Already out on the road, somewhere, bike between his thighs, nothing ahead of him but empty, nothing behind him but dust.
He'd stopped going to school along about December, and spent those dry, cold days at the junkyard, or the garage.
Scrounging parts, sanding and greasing and beating out dents - stealing what he couldn't buy. Making the old Ducati Bronco he'd bought for fifty bucks run, against all odds.
It had a Honda carburetor and a Harley magneto and old Delwin down at the garage said it was lucky the damn thing didn't kill him.
It did a hard back kick five times out of six when he started it, and it tended to slip out of gear at the worst possible fucking times.
But it ran, and it would get him
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