Problems? Who Me?

Hello, I hope that everyone reading this is having a wonderful day. Before I get into the day’s topic I’d like to draw your attention to the changes I have made to my site. I have added a few pages such as my book pages, my audiobook page, and my sponsored product page. Be sure to check them out before you leave. I am working on my Premium Content Page. Subscribers to this page will gain access to the Miracle Maker ChatBot. The Miracle Maker ChatBot is a ChatBot similer to Chat GPT. It can write code, outline and download an eBook as well as a bunch of other things. You can ask it anything I will offer mothly sucriptions to access the ChatBot for only $20.00 a month, or for a one time fee of $100.00 I will create a ChatBot for you.

So, who has problems besides me? Everyone does I think, but how do you deal with those problems? If you are like me you stress about them a little bit, but I am trying to change the way I think and deal with problems. I am trying to look at problems now as an opportunity to learn and grow. Stressing about things doesn’t change anything or help you solve your problems. I only stress about things for so long and then I say F–k it and quit stressing. What usually happens is that things work themselves out. Let me tell you a story. My wife’s Youcon broke down, then a few days later my truck started acting up. I needed to go to the bank one morning so I went outside to see if my truck would start. It did, so I headed off to my bank, which is about two and a half or maybe three miles from my house. I also forgot to bring my cell phone. After withdrawing some money from the bank, went back to my truck and it wouldn’t start. I let it sit for a while and headed down to a doughnut shop, which is a block away from my bank I bought a cup of coffee and a couple of doughnuts and then walked back to where I left my truck. I climbed behind the wheel, finished my coffee and doughnuts and tried to start the truck. It still wouldn’t start. Then I started thinking about the long walk home, half of which was uphill. Sitting there thinking about it wouln’t get me home, so started walking. As I headed up, Barstow Road, wich is a main street in Barstow Califonia that acends a large hill, I thought to myself that I would stop at each intersection and rest. My feet started to hurt a little bit and I was sweatting, but when I reached each intersection, I kept going. I finally reached the top of Barstow Road and sighed. The rest was down hill. Finally, I arrived back home. I took my dog outside, drank some water and smoked a cigar while I rested for a bit, then I called my insurace copany. I have roadside assistence. After arranging for a tow truck, I rode my Harley back to the bank to meet the tow truck and waited for them to show up. They finally did and towed my truck to the house.

What did I learn from this grand adventure? The first thing I learned was to listen to your inner voice. When I pulled up to the bank my inner voice told me to leave the truck running, but then I thought that the neighborhood was bad and that someone might steal it. The next thing I learned was that I am in better shape than I thought I was. I am sixty-five years old. I don’t go on walks nor am I into running, but I do practice martial arts to stay in shape. I thought that I would be really tired and sore when I got home, but I wasn’t. I was tired and winded, but after taking a breather and drinking some water, I felt fine. I went to my martial arts class that night and enjoyed it. I also thought that I would be really sore in the morning but I wasn’t. The truck is running again and things all worked out. Don’t sell yourself short. You are tougher than you think you are and when you have problems, look at them as an opportunity to learn and grow. Troubles will come, but they will pass.

Now for your reading pleasure

Biker Hell

When we pulled up to the clubhouse at Biker Heaven Chico seemed as if he was in a state of shock.

“I can’t believe this place. I mean the colors, the mountains, and the sky. I’ve never seen anything so vivid or so beautiful before. I’ve heard about the streets of gold, but I didn’t believe it.”

I chuckled and put my arm around his shoulder. “I know bro. It’s impossible to imagine until you finally see it. This place rocks.”

Chico glanced up at the little clubhouse. He took in its rough exterior and its covered wooden boardwalk. “You mean this is it? This little cabin is Biker Heaven?”

I let go with a belly laugh. “Trust me, bro. This place is more than what it appears. It’s a lot bigger on the inside. There are cabins outback to live in, the booze flows free and the women are all loose. They’re all good looking too. You can drink all you want and you don’t get a hangover,” I said.

We stepped inside, and the crowd waiting there gave a wild cheer when we strolled through the door. Jim Morrison opened up on stage playing Riders on the Storm and I led the crew to the bar.

“That’s Jim Morrison! Hot damn!” Lead Belly said.

Chico stood there with his jaw jacked open and his eyes wide. A busty redhead and a blonde danced topless on top of the bar.

“I’ll say this place is bigger on the inside than on the outside. That bar seems to run on forever. I see guys I know, plus other guys from the kind of clubs that I wouldn’t expect to be here.”

“Those old rivalries are no more. The only thing you take with you when you die, bro, is love,” I said.

Sonny sauntered up, along with all the brothers from the book of the dead, and greeted the new arrivals.

“Damn Sonny. It’s good to see you, bro,” Chico said and then gave him a big bear hug.

“It’s good to see you too, bro. What do you think of this place?” Sonny asked.

“It’s something, all right,” Chico said.

By this time my pops stepped up and said, “Yeah, when I first got here I couldn’t believe it either.”

“What’s with these women?” Tiny asked.

“You can hook up with one if you want to. We have cabins out back,” I said.

“Booze, wild women? That was never my idea of heaven. I thought it’d be all angels and harps,” Dirty Dan said.

“This is Biker Heaven. Everything’s okay here. Have a good time. Let’s belly up to the bar. I’m buying the first round,” I said.

We were at the bar tossing back some Jack when Little Danny Boy stepped in.

“I hate to break this up, but we’ve got some brothers that need our help,” Little Danny Boy said.

“Yeah, I know. Are you ready to roll?” I asked.

“We’re lining up outside.”

“I’ll be right there,” I said.

“What? What are you talking about?” Chico asked.

“What is the first thing you remember right after the crash?” I asked.

Chico thought for a moment and then said, “I seem to remember some weird lights.”

“When you died, the Devil’s imps were waiting to take your souls down to hell. We fought them off, but we lost five of our bros. We’re going to bring them home,” I said.

“Where did them evil shits take them?” Chico asked.

“Down to Biker Hell,” I said.

“I want to go with you,” Chico said.

I shook my head. “No bro, you can’t. You’re in a transitional phase right now. It wouldn’t be safe. You’re not safe until your body is in the ground and the preacher says some words over you. The Halo Riders will take care of this.” By this time, the new arrivals were crowding around to listen. “You guys stay here and enjoy the party. We’ll handle this.”

Little Danny Boy and I went outside and I glanced at the Halo Riders lining up on their spirit bikes. It surprised me to see how many wanted to go on this run. The odds were against us coming back. In the rear of the pack, I noticed Cowboy and Joker. They had signed up with the Halo crew. Then I saw Bone Crusher pull up so I strolled over. “Bro, you don’t have to do this,” I said. “After all that time you spent on the Lost Highway, you deserve a break.”

Bone Crusher looked up at me and I saw a flash of determination in his eyes. “When I was down there riding the Lost Highway, you came after me. I’ll never forget that. Now I have the chance to go rescue someone else. I plan to take it.”

A grin crossed my face. “Okay, bro. I won’t stand in your way,” I said.

“Are you ready?” Little Danny Boy asked, sitting on his scooter at the front of the pack.

“Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s roll,” I said and climbed onto my spirit bike.

We headed down the King’s Highway, heading away from Biker Heaven. We climbed a steep hill, entered the woods, and passed through a pristine forest. The land opened up, we passed through a lush green meadow and reached the Border Lands. Leading the pack, Little Danny Boy pressed down on his handlebars. His bike seemed to disappear into the ground itself. The riders in front of me followed his lead. When I reached the border, I pressed down on my handlebars and felt myself sinking. For several seconds there was nothing but darkness, but then the stars appeared. Sinking, down from the Heavens, I saw the Earth in all her glory coming up fast. Rather than touching down on its surface, we sank through the crust in a flash, descending to the Earth’s core. We touched down at the crossroads at the end of the Lost Highway. We turned right and headed up the dark dreary highway leading to Biker Hell.


I let out a cough, breathing in the smell of sulfur and soot, as we motored up the road. My head throbbed and a deep feeling of oppression and despair filled my soul. My spirit bike belched black smoke and didn’t want to run. A cold chill ran up my spine when I saw the flames raging in the distance. We rolled on through the darkness toward the fires of hell. Potholes filled the road and I saw the eyes of evil creatures lurking in the distance. We rolled around a bend and saw a checkpoint up ahead. Sawhorses blocked the road. Motorcycle cops stood guarding the entrance to Biker Hell. They wore black body armor with black hockey masks covering their faces. They held shotguns and cattle prods in their hands. A horse-drawn carriage pulled up to the checkpoint in front of us and the guards waved them through.

Little Danny Boy pulled up about a hundred yards from the checkpoint. “This is it. We’re gonna have to fight our way through. If we let them take us, we could be here for eternity.”

“That ain’t gonna happen bro. Let’s get this thing done,” I said.

Little Danny boy hit the throttle. He raced towards the gates of hell and the rest of us thundered along behind him.

When we reached the checkpoint we gunned our throttles. We opened up on the Devil’s henchmen guarding the gates. Balls of blue light shot out of my 357 knocking one of the guards on his ass. Little Danny Boy opened up on another one and the rest scattered. We hit their barricade. The force shattered the sawhorses to bits and pieces of smoldering matchwood. Rolling on the throttle, we motored down the road descending into the bowels of hell itself.

I saw another motorcycle cop pull over on the side of the road. He had a cat of nine tails in his hands. He was whipping a dark-haired woman, who was on the ground screaming in terror. She wore a black bikini top that revealed a deep valley of cleavage and a pair of Daisy Duke shorts. On her back, underneath the bloody whip marks, I saw the tattoo of an angel with its wings spread. I braked, pulled over to the side of the road, and shot the motor cop in the head with my 357.

“Get on, before more of these bastards show up!” I yelled. In Biker Hell, the cops ran the show.

The woman jumped up and climbed on behind me. “Thank you,” she whispered and I hit the throttle. We headed down the highway, sinking into the pits of hell. After about a half-hour, we saw the dim flickering lights of a bar, sitting off to the side of the road. Little Danny Boy pulled in. The bar was like none that I’ve ever seen. The dilapidated building looked dreary in the dim light. The motorcycles parked out front didn’t look much better. Hanging by the door was a sign with the words: hope dies here.

We parked our scooters and stepped up onto the boardwalk. The woman I picked up by the road, clung to my arm. Little Danny Boy kicked open the door and we stormed inside.

Bikers lined the bar and sat at tables throughout the room. All eyes turned to us for an instant. Taking in the bar’s patrons, I took in the hopeless look of despair in their eyes. The smell of cigarette smoke and sour whiskey filled the air. Little Danny Boy crossed the room to a table and we sat down. I sat across from the woman I’d picked up on the road. A skinny waitress with full-body tattoos sashayed over to our table trying to look sexy. “What can I get you guys?” she asked.

“You have any Jack?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No, only the house brew.”

“I guess that will have to do,” I said. The waitress came back and brought us drinks that taste like used motor oil with a little bit of alcohol mixed in. Grimacing from the repugnant taste, I turned back to the woman from the road and said, “What’s your name?”

“Carol. Bartlett”

“Why was that cop whipping you?” I asked.

“He didn’t like my tattoo, but that was only an excuse. They’re a bunch of sadistic assholes. They’ll whip you, hit you with a cattle prod, and then toss you in the lock-up for the least provocation. If you do something really bad, they take you to the catacombs. You’ll be in trouble for helping me and killing that cop.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said.

“Where are these catacombs?” Little Danny Boy asked.

“A few miles down the road, the road forks, and heads down into a deep crater. The catacombs are down there,” She said.

“We’re looking for five guys from the Road Dogs motorcycle club. They don’t belong here. We’ve come to take them home,” Little Danny Boy said.

“I saw ‘em. The little demons in the black robes took them. They’re down at the catacombs. You guys don’t belong here either. Where are you from?” Carol asked.

“We rolled down here from Biker Heaven,” Little Danny Boy said.

A look of hope crossed her face. “You guys don’t have a snowball’s chance of breaking those guys out. If you do could you take me back with you to Biker Heaven?” she pleaded.

I reached across the table and laid my hand on her arm.

“Sure, baby. You can ride with me,” I said.

The door burst open. Twenty cops in black body armor stormed into the bar. They carried pump-action shotguns and baseball bats. One of them blew a loud whistle and began to bust up the joint. One of them took a swing at a beer bottle shattering it into minute pieces of glass.

“Quick! Out the back!” Carol yelled and ran for the back door. We jumped up and followed. In the parking lot, we jumped onto our spirit bikes and roared down the highway.

When we reached the fork in the road about fifteen minutes later, we turned left. The road turned rocky and descended into a deep crater. Off in the distance, at the bottom of the crater, a trimmer shot down my spine when I saw a molten lake of fire. The road snaked its way along the edge of the crater as we continued down into the pit. When we reached the bottom, I saw hundreds of little demons in black robes. They drove wagons pulled by evil creatures that vaguely resembled horses. The evil beast snorted fire and their breath smelled of sulfur. The back of the wagons contained the wrenched remains of long-lost souls. When the demons reached the lake of fire, they tossed their loads into the lake and went back for more.

“Where to now?” I asked Carol.

“Follow the wall of the crater to your left. The catacombs are on the other side.”

I motioned to Little Danny Boy and we turned to the left following the curve of the crater. We had to dodge potholes and debris lying in the road as we wove our way through the wagons heading to the lake. The demons whipped their beast and shouted curses at us as we passed. After about an hour, we saw the catacombs off in the distance. A half-hour later, Little Danny Boy stopped one hundred yards from the main entrance. Several of the motorcycle coppers in their black body armor stood on guard duty. They looked alert, gazing out at the scene before them with their beady red eyes.

“This place is depressing,” Little Danny Boy said.

“What’s your plan?” I asked when I pulled up next to him.

“Shit. I don’t have a plan. Let’s go in with guns blazing. This is an all-or-nothing deal,” Little Danny Boy said. He dropped his shifter into gear. We roared down the road toward the catacombs with our throttles cranked wide open.

When we pulled up to the catacombs, we leaped from our motor scooters. We opened up on the motor cops guarding the entrance. Balls of blue lightning lit up the night. One of them hit Cowboy square in the chest. He disappeared in a flash of light. His soul would later materialize back at Biker Heaven, but he was gone from this plane of existence. The guards scattered and we stormed into the catacombs.

“Where to now?” I asked Carol.

“I don’t know, but they’re in here somewhere,” she said.

We headed deeper into the catacombs, following the main passageway. On both sides, of the passageway, we saw small fissures with bars covering the openings to the tiny cells. Looking into the nearest one, I saw a wretched soul hunkered down near the back of the enclosure.

“This place is too big. We’ll never find them,” I said.

“We have to,” Little Daddy Boy said.

We continued, deeper into the catacombs. We came around a bend and ran right into a mob of the little demons in the black robes. The one leading the pack shot a bolt of red lightning from his fingertips. It hit me in the shoulder spun me around and knocked me to my knees.

Little Danny Boy helped me to my feet. “You can’t take much more of that. We’d best retreat and find another way. There’s too many of them.”

“But we can’t leave our bros behind,” I pleaded.

“Yeah, but if these SOBs overrun us, we’re all liable to be here for eternity,” Little Danny Boy said. He gave the order to retreat.

A bright flash of white light filled the cavern knocking the little demons to the floor. The archangel Michael stood before us. The little demons trembled in fear and retreated down the passageway. Michael turned his head looking back over his shoulder and grinned. “Time to set the captives free,” he said. “Follow me.”

He headed down the passageway and we followed. As he passed each cell, the bars disintegrated showering us with dirt and debris. The captive souls fled into the night. We found our bros in a tiny damp cell. They jumped to their feet when the bars blew off their cells.

“Boy, are we glad to see you guys,” Blowout, an older bro that the demons took after the wreck on the highway, said.

“Yeah, we thought the gig was up for sure,” a guy we called Spider said.

“You should have known we wouldn’t let them get away with this. We got a big party waiting for you guys waiting in Biker Heaven,” I said.

“The time grows short,” Michael said.

We followed the archangel out. As we stepped out of the catacombs, five more spirit bikes appeared out of thin air.

“Hot damn! Those are some fine-looking scooters,” Blowout said.

“Those are your spirit bikes. They’re like an extension of your soul,” I said.

“Let’s mount up,” Little Danny Boy said.

“Ride, true, Iron Horse Warriors,” the archangel Michael said.

Little Danny Boy nodded. “Thanks for your help,” he said and hit the throttle. We roared down the highway leaving the fires of hell behind.



About Dave the Miracle Maker

Hi. I work and live in the high desert of Southern California with my wife and family. I have three passions in life: reading, writing, and riding my motorcycle. I am now branching out into affiliate marketing and enjoy practicing martial arts. I believe in Miracles, but sometimes you must make your-own miracles by keeping a positive mindset. In this blog, I will promote my writing, and the products I sponsor plus I will try to send out positive messages to you and the universe. Feel free to like and subscribe. Much Love, Let's Go!
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