This photo embodies the spirit that compels me on this fine, sun-blasting day.

My current short story (too short as of this post) is about Lily, known as "Grunt" in her days as grease monkey for the Warlocks Motorcycle gang. Abandoned in a third-rate "assisted living" home, her most cherished possession are the leathers left from those freedom filled days. When one of the hoodlums paid to do maintenance work around the home steals them, Lily calls on some old friends. The tattooed and intimidating kind.

Will she get her leathers back? And will her cane, Edgar, find revenge for her in the nether regions of a slack pants hoodlum?