Ruth-Anne, exasperated with the customers in her store, shoos
them out and locks up. She's crossing the street just as Shelly
and her baby, accompanied by Chris, walk up.
Shelly: Hey. Isn't that Ruth-Anne?
Chris: Yeah.
Shelly: Isn't that your bike?
Chris: Yeah.
Ruth-Anne, riding Chris' battleship gray Harley-Davidson FLH,
roars out of Cicely as Shelly and Chris look on.
Later, while piloting the Shovelhead on a lonely highway out
along the forest, Ruth-Anne passes a red Chevrolet flatbed
truck and continues speeding down the road.
Darkness falls as the neon 'Last Call Bar' sign flashes its
stars. A 'Silver Bullet' neon sign is dislayed in the window
and, inside, Ruth-Anne is sitting in a booth.
Waitress: Everything all right?
Ruth-Anne: No. Everything is not all right. I ordered this
steak rare and this is medium. And don't reheat
those fries, I want a fresh batch.
Waitress: Yes, ma'am.
Ruth-Anne: And here. (hands over shot glass) This time put a
full two jiggers in, will you?
A wiry, hard-looking man, Turk, wearing leathers approaches
Ruth-Anne with two others; Frog, with an eye-patch and a
bigger, bearded guy, Tiny.
Turk: Is that your Shovelhead out there?
Ruth-Anne: Excuse me?
Turk: The Harley. Is it yours?
Ruth-Anne: Yes.
Turk: It was blocking the handicapped ramp. We moved it for you.
Ruth: Thanks.
Turk sits down across from Ruth while the other two grab their
own table behind Turk.
Turk: (looking at Tiny) What?
Tiny: (holds palms out and innocently shakes his head)
Waitress: (puts glass in front of Ruth-Anne) Double Wild Turkey,
neat. Gentlemen?
Turk: You know what we want, girl. And make it fast.
Turk: (to Ruth-Anne) That's some bike you got there, Ma.
Ruth-Anne: Nothing to that big Knucklehead I used to ride.
Tiny: Yeah? What year?
Ruth-Anne: '48
Tiny: Chopped?
Ruth-Anne: Extended front end. Bobbed fenders.
Turk: Is that your old man's bike or yours?
Ruth-Anne: My old man wouldn't go near it. Scared the hell
out of him.
The guys laugh over her response.
Turk: Maybe you heard of us. We're the Diablos.
Ruth-Anne: (shakes her head)
Frog: "Terror of the Tundra". That's what the Sleetmute
Sentinel called us.
Tiny: Maggots.
Turk: (pushes waitresses' hand from his can of bud) Leave it!
Turk: (to Ruth-Anne) Where you headed, Ma?
Ruth-Anne: Wherever.
Turk: Yeah. I can dig it. Tell you what, how'd you like to
ride with the Diablos tonight?
Frog: We're jamming with the Rattlers, gonna run the Gauntlet
to Delta Junction.
Ruth-Anne: The Gauntlet?
Frog: Open throttle all the way.
Tiny: No stops.
Ruth-Anne: But you have to go through Greeley, don't you?
There's a state police station in Greeley.
Frog: (burping) Greeley.
Tiny: We own Greeley, man!
Turk: So what do you say, Ma? You feel like getting down?
The Diablos and Ruth-Anne stop their Harleys on an unpaved
road out in the wilderness and shut off their motors.
Tiny: (to Frog) So where's the Rattlers, man?
Frog: Those skanks are always late.
Tiny: Well, they had better not be too late. I got to take
Courtney to the Orthodontist tomorrow.
Frog: Braces?
Tiny: No. Palate extenders.
Frog: Her teeth look OK to me.
Turk: (to Ruth-Anne) How they hanging, Ma?
Ruth-Anne: (gestures OK with a smile)
Turk: How come we never seen you before?
Ruth-Anne: I've been stuck behind a counter, I guess. I realized
as we were riding up here, I've been in Cicely longer
than I've been anyplace in my entire life.
Turk's cell phone starts ringing. He picks it up.
Turk: Yeah? Shut up, men. I can't hear. I hate these damn
things. (walks away from group) Yeah? Yeah. Yeah.
That's much better.
Tiny: Hey, Ma. Let me ask you something.
Ruth-Anne: Shoot.
Tiny: You're in retail, right?
Ruth-Anne: Yeah.
Tiny: Well, I own a couple of snowboard franchises myself.
Half a dozen employees. This new change to the Medicare
Tax, is that gonna hurt me?
Ruth-Anne: Not unless you make more than $130,000 in a year.
Tiny: Huh.
Ruth-Anne: All they did was take away the wage limit.
Frog: Told ya', man!
Turk: Son of a bitch!
Tiny: Uh-oh. Turk's pissed.
Turk: They're not coming.
Tiny: What?
Turk: That was Sonny. He's having elective surgery tomorrow.
Tiny: You're kidding?
Turk: He went in for rectal bleeding. Turns out they're gonna
have to take out part of his colon.
Ruth-Anne: Diverticulitis.
Tiny: The colon? Man!
Turk: All right. Let's burn rubber.
Tiny: Without the Rattlers?
Turk: We're still the Diablos, aren't we? (pauses) We're still
the Diablos, aren't we?!?!
Tiny: Diablos, man!
Frog: All right!
They fire-up their Harley-Davidsons and ride down the road.
Later, with Turk in the lead, they enter a small market with a
young male clerk standing behind the counter.
Turk: (to clerk) Hey, you got any get-well cards?
Clerk: Yeah. (pointing) Over there.
Turk: (to group) Sonny will really appreciate this. He's gonna
be in the hospital a week.
Frog: (holding card in hand) Hey, this is funny. "Heard you
got laid-up a week. Hope you get it sideways and upside
down, too."
Tiny: Hey, that's not funny, man! When you're sick in the
hospital, a thing like that falls flat.
Ruth-Anne: (handing a card to Turk) Here. Short and sweet.
Turk: (reads it aloud) "Thinking of you. Get well soon."
Hey, that's it. That says it all. I'll take this one.
Clerk: Uh, anything else?
Frog: Yeah, you got any Mercuric Oxide? Damn sty. I keep
telling Doreen to get rid of them down pillows.
Clerk: One of two percent?
Frog: Two.
Turk: Okay, let's ride.
Frog: I don't know, Turk.
Turk: What?
Frog: Maybe we ought to cool it tonight, huh?
Turk: What are you saying to me, Frog? What are you telling
me? Are you telling me that Turk Tortelli doesn't lead
the Diablos anymore?
Frog: No, Turk.
Turk: Then what are you saying to me, man?
Frog: I'm telling ya', it's not the same without the Rattlers.
Tiny: He's right, Turk. (pauses) I hear they got some pretty
good frozen yogurt here.
Front of Ravensdale Market shown with the four Harley-Davidsons
of Ruth-Anne and Diablos parked out in front.
Tiny: (pushes empty yogurt cup on counter) Yo, Monkey Boy.
Hit me again.
Clerk: I'd really like to close up, fellas.
The Diablos silently stare at the nervous clerk.
Clerk: Macadamia-Vanilla swirl, right?
Turk: (to Ruth-Anne) What's up, Ma? You look a little down.
Ruth-Anne: I think I've run out of road, Turk.
Turk: Metaphorically?
Ruth-Anne: Physically, too. When I left Portland for Cicely,
I wanted the wide open spaces. Look at me now.
What's left? Vladivotok?
Tiny: But as long as we've got it in here (taps his heart),
there's always the open road.
Frog: Ma's right, man. Frontier's over. It's history.
Ruth-Anne: We've all read Hunter Thompson. The biker movement
was started by dissatisfied G.I.'s who weren't willing to buy
into the phony prosperity of the late '40s.
Frog: Tell it. Hip.
Ruth-Anne: It was a reaction, a revolt.
Frog: Um, you remember Brando's line in "The Wild One"?
Turk: Dude says, "What are you rebelling against?" Brando
says, "What do you got?"
Frog: But what does it mean anymore? How can it mean anything
in a society where lawyers are wearing earrings and
fashion models tattoos?
Have you been in a Harley dealership lately? New Ultra
Classic; stock, no chrome, no nothing, listed at $16,000.
Who's buying these bikes? I'll tell you who: Doctors, Chefs,
Account Executives. That's who. The affluent middle-class.
And you want to know what? We're part of it.
Turk: What if we are? I'll tell you, for the first time in my life, I'm
happy. Shirley's great. The kids like school. The Dow went
over 3,900. I mean, what's so bad about feeling good?
Ruth-Anne: Well, I guess the major thing I'm rebelling against
is my arthritis.
Turk laughs and raps Ruth-Anne's hand a couple of times.
Tiny: What about the open road, man?
Frog: Ah, jeez. Look at the time.
Turk: Yeah.
Frog: Next Saturday, Turk?
Turk: (checking his schedule) Well, no. Saturday's tight. Rickey's
soccer team made the playoffs. How about Sunday?
Frog: Okay.
Turk: Tiny?
Tiny: Fine with me.
Turk: Deal.
They leave the market and punch their Harley-Davidsons to life.
Turk: Be good, Ma!
Tiny: And if you can't be good...
Frog: Be quick!
Ruth-Anne pumps her arm into the air. Diablos ride off into the night
together while Ruth-Anne takes her own road back home to Cicely.
