Driving for fun.
Dancing for money.
Killing for gold.
LUCIOS
Blind.
MEXICAN
MARKET
Will Skate
For Food
Skarfing
Material
A tradition that pre-dates the oilie is the Coyote Principle: when you're stuck in the elements without food,
obtain nourishment from your own flesh. Knee jerkey is usually best, but the elbow yields mighty sweet fixin's
The humid soot of a bus exhaust blast
clawed my sinuses and forced my eyes open.
I spit, groaned and tried to un-Velcro the side
of my stubble-covered mug from its asphalt
pillow. Feeling stiffer than an arthritic with
hypothermia, I clawed my way up onto the
bus bench and lit a Lucky Strike. Someone
had sapped me good last night-a kiwi-sized
lump about an inch from my medulla ob-
longata throbbed like a woofer in Compton-
and I'd bet bullets at my own execution that
it was Simon Lebfauver. This Lebfauver case
was getting hairier than a shower drain at an
Italian men's club and I hadn't even been
paid yet. Margolene Lebfauver hired me
about a week ago to search for her missing
husband. I had flashed a Polaroid of the wiry,
polyester plaid-clad sink salesman at every
flophouse, gin mill and tobacconist in town.
and received the Ron Reagan "can't recall""
treatment from everyone with enough teeth
to talk. Then last night I caught sight of Leb-
fauver's flammable blue and tan blazer enter-
ing the Tilt-1 Lounge. Bingo!
I slid through the Tilt-1's tuck-and-roll
double doors just in time to catch a flash of
leisure wear as it disappeared out the back.
This guy was slippery as a newt sandwich
with extra mayonnaise, but thoughts of a fat
paycheck spurred me through the shadowy
smokequarium and out into the alley. Once
outside, I had time to inhale twice before the
sap came down and my lights went out...
So, there I was, eight hours later, chewing
Lucky flakes and picking the scab on my
dome. Lebfauver would be harder to find now
than a Hustler mag in Cincinnati and I hadn't
received a dime from the Mrs. I was shuffling
along the litter-strewn surface of Third Street
toward my car, digging for my keys, when I
felt the card in my pocket. It was a tattered
ace of clubs, with a hastily scrawled message
on the back: "Sal's, 10.30 a.m.-S.L."
An hour later I was wedged into a corner
booth at Sal's Sinkerteria dunking dough in
joe, wondering what had moved Lebfauver
to set up this meet immediately after playing
John Henry on my bucket. I hadn't dunked
and wondered for long when my man burst
through the front door and beelined for my
table. His sunken cheeks and soiled slacks
told a tale of days without hot food and hot
water, but all I cared about was cold hard
facts. "All right Lebfauver, gimme the whole
ball of yarn or I feed you hand salad sand-
wiches till sunset." I exhaled smoke in his
face and grinned at his gagging grimace.
"Listen Bazooka foot, I'm sorry I clinked you,
but you gotta understand-I'm a desperate
man. I checked your wallet when I dragged
you to the bus bench, realized you were a
private dick and set up this meet because
I need your help. You see, my wife's trying
to kill me." My head hurt and I had about as
with Chef Boy-Am-I-Hungry
much sympathy for the guy as I would for an
ax murderer with tendonitis. "Don't give me
that song and dance Lebfauver, your wife
was worried sick when she hired me to find
you-that's not what I call the demeanor of
a prospective murderess." "You don't get it,
do you? She's not trying to kill me on pur
pose, but if I stay with her any longer, I'm a
goner for sure. It's her cooking, man. It's not
even edible. I mean, I'd rather eat...
GUERRERO SOUP
⚫1 Tommy Guerrero Board
1 rain-filled bowl in a a Tijuana skatepark.
Take a trip south of the border to Tijuana
skatepark after a fresh rainfall. Loosen your
trucks too much so you sketch out and your
board goes flying into a nearby bowl. Change
models for different flavors. Recipe submit-
ted by Loy Stordahl of Imperial Beach, CA
PURINACHOS
4 large Milk Bone dog biscuits
% cup grated cheddar cheese
¼ cup chopped onions 14 cup salsa
Break the dog biscuits into bite-sized.
chunks and put them on a plate. Heap the
cheese and onions on and nuke till it gets
gooey. Douse that muck with salsa, grub it
down, then bark at the moon. Recipe sub-
mitted by Doofy D. of West Hartford, CT.
ROAD HASH
1 lb. brisket (or any other cut of meat)
I package Lipton's Onion Soup mix
3 new potatoes, washed, peeled and cut in half
1 working automobile (preferably 8-cylinder)
First, preheat the auto by driving for at least
thirty minutes. Sprinkle about half the Lip-
ton's on a sheet of aluminum foil. Slap down
the beef, flap on the taters, yap on the rest
of the soup, then wrap it all up, sealing the
foil as tightly as possible. Add a couple more
coats of A.F. for extra protection, then take
your pack-o-meat and wedge it next to the
car's exhaust manifold. Make sure it's tight
or you may lose the beef to a pothole. Hit the
road for about twenty minutes (doing at least
fifty), then pull over and turn the meat. After
another twenty, you're ready to grub. Recipe
submitted by neB notgniffuB of Richland, WA.
THREAD PUDDING
Look slicker than an Exxon shipping lane
in a suave Skarfing Material T-shirt. Send
$13.45 (includes shipping and handling) to:
Muck T. c/o Thrasher, PO Box 884570, San
Francisco, CA 94188-4570.
31