"Love Me"

It was the summer of 1995. We were all sailing through the sandy dunes of Arizona, and no - Sting was not there. Our motorcycle gang went through this ghost town with only one pub, so we decided to stop in and see what the problem was. Half way through the fourth hour a wheeled stretch-car rolled through the town and to the pub. Inside marched a very small, proud man by the name of Zacharia Stokes. It was obvious that the man was President of Stokes Motorcycles. After maybe too many drinks he let our small group of hardened fucks on to what the situation was. It was late in the game and the hovercraft kids were making a play for the whole shibang. So here we were.
And here I am.