July 13, 2018 by Hermi Flagglenack

Inevitably, while surfin’ the Timestream, one is bound to find some interesting stories. One such story carries a lesson in disrespect, delivered to us by The Death Wheelers and the folks at RidingEasy Records. I Tread on Your Grave is the album. Here’s what they say about it:

“Decimated in 1972 by local authorities, all members of The Death Wheelers, a notorious motorcycle club, have been buried at the Surrey cemetery. But the time has come and they have risen for their last ride. They’re back from the grave and they’re hungry for blood! Nothing can stop this gang of living dead from recruiting new members as they travel coast to coast to find the filthiest, nastiest, trashiest individuals to join their ranks. Their goal, assemble a legion of 13 discycles to seek revenge on the pigs that dismantled the club and send them to their graves. The cycle of violence continues.”

Now, if you happen to be a blood thirsty, revenge driven, but very dead biker gang, you inherently have a problem. Sure, it’s easy enough to return to the land of the living by becoming a living dead thing, or what have you, (necromancy is hardly new technology), but that is not gonna carry the impact you need. You gotta bring your bikes, man!

Even better, you need new ones. The likes of which the mortal world has never seen. Fear inducing, soul reaving, attention demanding respect enforcers.

For that, you need power. Loud, devastating power. On this side of existence, we have the mighty piston pumping internal combustion engine. Not so much in the spectral underworld, and not powerful enough anyway, so it doesn’t much matter. But there is something both worlds share. The Timestream. Ever flowing and packed full of enough volatile drama, past and future, to power the most malevolent of intentions, the Timestream is just waiting to be harnessed. With an engine designed to mix time with this explosive drama (similar to our familiar air and gasoline mixed engines), combustion chambers will extract and expel the power needed to propel you across the dark void. Strap that fury to your motorcycle, and blammo! You have a havoc wreaking machine ready to unleash your terror upon the unsuspecting living. Mwahh hahaha!

And, oh, the sound! I would give almost anything (or kill almost anyone) to have a motorcycle that sounded like these these things. With their slinky bass providing gobs of soul pummeling power, the sound unleashed from these pipes vary from blues, psych, doom, and heavy surf rock, depending on whether creeping around some back alley, or slicing up flesh and bone salads at full throttle. These machines offer enough savage force to ravage and slaughter whatever they want, and they seem very happy to do just that.

Oh, and apparently there is an option for some form of blood injection, for those times when you feel exceptionally malevolent and vengeful, I’m guessing. Completely unbridled badassery! A nifty, but presumedly messy option. I suspect cosmetic maintenance may not be a high priority in the revenge business. These are indeed bad, ill tempered bikes, just as obnoxious and greasy as their riders. Do you like the taste of blood? Of course you do. Just don’t forget to feed your bike as well, or you may be next on your bike’s menu.

Gotta admire a biker gang’s dedication to their passion. To me, it just proves that bikers never die. They just ride the Timestream forever. Ridin’ free. Ridin’ easy.

And killing everyone.

Super fun debauchery, to be sure, but if ya wanna ride, ya better play it loud. Anything less would disrespect the Wheelers, and ya wouldn’t want that, now would ya?