Father Tim has a dream: to build a sanctuary village for San Diego’s forgotten souls.
Father Tim must infiltrate the Red Diablo Motorcycle Club, a notorious gang tied to EdenCorp's corrupt CEO. Trading his collar for leather, he rides into a world of violence, loyalty tests, and temptation.
“Come on, Son! The new Batman TV show is going to start soon,” my dad shouted from the kitchen. I was so excited. My dad had been telling me about this new superhero show for weeks. I ran from my room leaving G.I. Joe to fight his own battles as I slid into my favorite place in front of the TV.
I stood in the huddle with raindrops cascading down my helmet. The cold rain stinging my eyes. It was a typical October night in Seattle, 41° with a steady stream of rain. I could see everyone's breath steam out as eleven of us stood in the huddle at the 42-yard line of the opponents.
I wonder which way to turn or even if a turn is possible? In the distance I hear a howling, maybe a coyote? No, the pitch is too low, there is too much growl in it. Ah, is it a wolf out roaming the woodlands on this effervescent evening?
"Then I would remember the old Nike commercial: Just Do It! But what would put me over the top and heading southbound on I-5 toward the dojo was Sensei’s expression about training: “Just Get Here!”
The freedom of the sun’s rays escaped from the clouds, penetrating deep into my bronzed skin. My manic thoughts are mercifully calmed by the sound of the water lapping on the hull and the wind rippling the sails. The smell of suntan lotion and sea spray ease my psyche and spirit.