no effect on the big bike. He was doing seventy miles per hour by the time he reached Powell Street. The soldier checked his mirror and saw that the black H2 was driving even faster than he was. Bolan cranked the throttle to the stop, riding like a crazed kid with a death wish — motorcyclists called them "squids" because of the squid-like stains they left on the pavement when they crashed — and was doing ninety by the time he reached Taylor Street. He saw that the light in the intersection had turned from yellow to red. He knew he'd get through before the Taylor Street signal lights turned green, so kept the throttle pinned, sending the speedometer past one hundred.
By the time the Hummer reached the intersection, the signal light on Taylor Street had been green long enough that cars were entering the intersection. The Hummer ran the red light and nailed the front bumper of an older Chrysler minivan. The bumper flew off as if it had been shot out of a cannon and the minivan spun off the road, landing on the sidewalk.
When Bolan got to the intersection of Pine and Hyde, he tapped the rear brake, put his foot down and pinned the throttle again, breaking the rear tire loose and sliding out, executing a perfect Super-motard-style right-hand turn, hanging the rear wheel out all the way onto Hyde Street. This left him going the wrong way on a one-way street, so he aimed his bike between two cars waiting at the traffic light and passed between their two lanes, the hand guards on his bike knocking the sideview mirrors off of the cars on his left and right, missing their doors by millimeters. The Hummer screamed around the corners and didn't miss the doors, or any other parts of the cars. Bolan looked in his mirrors and saw the two cars spinning up onto the sidewalks on either side of the road. This slowed the Hummer somewhat, but Bolan still hadn't shaken it off his tail.
When Bolan crested California Street he caught nearly a foot of air and landed on the back tire. He kept the throttle pinned as he roared up Hyde Street, which went back to being a two-way street after it intersected with California. Bolan rode at triple-digit speeds down Hyde Street, keeping just ahead of his pursuers. He rode over the Broadway Tunnel and saw a car coming at him on Broadway Street. If he kept his speed up, he might make it through before the car entered the intersection so he kept the throttle twisted. He ran the Stop sign and squeezed through ahead of the car, but again the Hummer wasn't so lucky. It sheared the car in two; the passenger compartment skidded through the intersection while the front clip disintegrated beneath the Hummer's mangled bumper.
The Hummer looked like a wreck. Its headlights were gone, its fenders crumpled and torn, but judging by the lack of steam, the radiator was intact, probably thanks to the gigantic brush guard on the front of the truck. It had driving lights on the roof that lit up the night much brighter than any headlights. Bolan rode as fast as he dared without hurting any innocent bystanders, but if he kept this up, the Hummer bearing down on him was either going to kill him or kill someone else. The soldier had to bring this to an end. With Lombard Street, San Francisco's famous narrow road that switchbacked down toward the sea, coming up on his right, he formulated a plan to do just that.
When he neared Lombard Street, he slowed a bit to let the Hummer close in on him. With its prey in its sights, the Hummer sped up to run down the Executioner, but just as it neared him, Bolan swerved to the right and jammed on the brakes. On most bikes it would have been the start of a terrible crash, but because of BMW's anti-lock brakes Bolan was able to stop almost instantly while the Hummer sailed past him. Physics were on the soldier's side; six hundred pounds of motorcycle stopped much more quickly than six thousand pounds of sport utility vehicle, and Bolan was able to hang a hard right onto Lombard Street and
By the time the Hummer reached the intersection, the signal light on Taylor Street had been green long enough that cars were entering the intersection. The Hummer ran the red light and nailed the front bumper of an older Chrysler minivan. The bumper flew off as if it had been shot out of a cannon and the minivan spun off the road, landing on the sidewalk.
When Bolan got to the intersection of Pine and Hyde, he tapped the rear brake, put his foot down and pinned the throttle again, breaking the rear tire loose and sliding out, executing a perfect Super-motard-style right-hand turn, hanging the rear wheel out all the way onto Hyde Street. This left him going the wrong way on a one-way street, so he aimed his bike between two cars waiting at the traffic light and passed between their two lanes, the hand guards on his bike knocking the sideview mirrors off of the cars on his left and right, missing their doors by millimeters. The Hummer screamed around the corners and didn't miss the doors, or any other parts of the cars. Bolan looked in his mirrors and saw the two cars spinning up onto the sidewalks on either side of the road. This slowed the Hummer somewhat, but Bolan still hadn't shaken it off his tail.
When Bolan crested California Street he caught nearly a foot of air and landed on the back tire. He kept the throttle pinned as he roared up Hyde Street, which went back to being a two-way street after it intersected with California. Bolan rode at triple-digit speeds down Hyde Street, keeping just ahead of his pursuers. He rode over the Broadway Tunnel and saw a car coming at him on Broadway Street. If he kept his speed up, he might make it through before the car entered the intersection so he kept the throttle twisted. He ran the Stop sign and squeezed through ahead of the car, but again the Hummer wasn't so lucky. It sheared the car in two; the passenger compartment skidded through the intersection while the front clip disintegrated beneath the Hummer's mangled bumper.
The Hummer looked like a wreck. Its headlights were gone, its fenders crumpled and torn, but judging by the lack of steam, the radiator was intact, probably thanks to the gigantic brush guard on the front of the truck. It had driving lights on the roof that lit up the night much brighter than any headlights. Bolan rode as fast as he dared without hurting any innocent bystanders, but if he kept this up, the Hummer bearing down on him was either going to kill him or kill someone else. The soldier had to bring this to an end. With Lombard Street, San Francisco's famous narrow road that switchbacked down toward the sea, coming up on his right, he formulated a plan to do just that.
When he neared Lombard Street, he slowed a bit to let the Hummer close in on him. With its prey in its sights, the Hummer sped up to run down the Executioner, but just as it neared him, Bolan swerved to the right and jammed on the brakes. On most bikes it would have been the start of a terrible crash, but because of BMW's anti-lock brakes Bolan was able to stop almost instantly while the Hummer sailed past him. Physics were on the soldier's side; six hundred pounds of motorcycle stopped much more quickly than six thousand pounds of sport utility vehicle, and Bolan was able to hang a hard right onto Lombard Street and
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