Brian Coltrane
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Posts posted by Brian Coltrane
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Waaaait a minute heah. I do not have a Santa suit in my closet. I'm not jolly or merry and I'm a notably poor judge of character. I ain't qualified to tell naughty from nice. ( I've nevah figured it out for myself. )
So before we turn this into a Coltrane Carol, we outta consider some alternatives. I think Cap'n Redneck would make fine Santa. Or you, Tempest, since it was yer idea!
Let's do this with some democracy. Vote for the night's rent-a-Santa, and then we'll name a date.
Brian
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It took Brian a moment longer to answer. MaryAnne's words had dealt him a sobering blow. I don't have any friends, she said...
The law came first, as it must. Brian had always known it. Hearing it spoken aloud, however, unsettled him.
MaryAnne was giving them better than they deserved. She had all the facts she needed to dispense ultimate justice. In allowing them to ride away, she was giving them a free spin of the wheel.
And yet for Brian, exile was not a pleasant prospect. Hazzard had become his home. Going on the lam for awhile to live down a shenanigan was one thing; but knowing that he could never return upon pain of incarceration or worse, made him almost pick option 1.
Almost. There was yet a purpose to fulfill; a destiny to answer. And then...he would return to Hazzard, truely fated to never leave it again.
His purpose was in the stone-set of his jaw as he looked at Chet Duke. Brian's vow burned in his dark eyes, and his chest heaved as he thought of everything this errant Duke had cost him.
Finally, Brian slowly turned to face MaryAnne. He met her eyes, acknowledged the blue flame within them...and nodded gravely.
(Cue MaryAnne.....)
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Chance's lithe figure stretching across the table did nothing to ease Brian's awkwardness. Her front torso nearly brushed the table, and her nearness sent an all-points-bulliten to his body. At her teasing invitation, Brian slowly lowered the menu from his face, gawking at her with no coherent thought present in his head.
He tried to answer her, but being aware of the entire cafe' staring at them, he could only manage to swallow and give her a foolish grin.
The waitress plunked the salad down at the corner of the table, startling Brian. Realizing that if the Doc stayed any longer, she'd miss the rest of her afternoon appointments, Brian offered a parting excuse. "I suppose I'd better tend to my lunch," he said with a nervous smile. "I don't want my salad to get cold....."
(cue anybody!)
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Chet's words caused a snarl on Brian's expression. His teeth were clenched with the effort of holding his tongue; his black-clad frame was stiff-backed and high-shouldered with tension.
Yet silence held him. He would say nothing damning in front of his kin, the law....
...but his dark eyes were cold with a terrible, silent vow. He stared at Chet Duke for several seconds, and Hell itself seemed to be in the shadows of Brian's eyes.
Finally, he turned away, glancing at MaryAnne as he did so. And though he said nothing more....Brian's feelings were perfectly, utterly, and forebodingly clear.
He had his own ideas of justice.
( cue MaryAnne...)
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Chance's comment caused a few heads to turn in Brian's direction. The waitress looked at him with new appraisal; an old lady smiled at him, and from somewhere came a wolf whistle. Brian felt a slow flush of color rising up from his neck, and he grabbed a menu and hid his face behind it. He cleared his throat, and dryly remarked, "Doc, do you always share yer medical e-valuations out in public?"
(cue anyone!)
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Chet's arrogance infuriated Brian, and it was by sheer strength of will, and respect to the law's presence, that he didn't put an end to Chet Duke then and there.
"You sidewindin', egg-hatchin', crosseyed polecat," Brian growled. "Hangin's too good for ya!!" He whirled to MaryAnne, fists clenched. "Cousin, let me n' him settle this the ol' fashioned way. I'll face this varmint in the street at high noon, if he's got the guts!! And I'll bet that a single bullet from mah gun, will be more e-ffective than that arsenal of hardware he drags around! Ah've nevah seen anybody that needed killin' so bad in mah life!"
(cue anybody!)
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Howdy, Bodebldr! Welcome to HazzardNet.
The answer to yer question is gonna depend on your financial resources n' expertise. And not knowing what avenues you may have already searched, I'm just gonna spit out a few things and hope something helps ya.
Try starting an online search at www.oldcartrader.com . Most of what you'll find here will be already-restored and big $. I did a quick search and found a '68 Charger for approx $15,000.
I've seen some folks take a 1968 Charger and change the taillights n' such, to match the look of the General Lee. '69 Chargers are hard to find, you may want to look at modifying a '68 or '70.
If you're looiking for something...middle of the road, pardon the expression, try a publication called "Old Cars Weekly." I think there's info about it at www.collect.com . This publication tends to be less pretentious than other classic car circles. ( In my quick check, I found a 1971 Dodge Charger for $8,500.)
Local swap meets and car shows are a great place to network and get leads. I found a "rough" Dodge Charger at a midwest car show called "Spring Jefferson" ....for about six grand. Still wasn't cheap, but you can see how the prices get lower depending on where you search.
If you're looking for the diamond in the rough, the elusive backyard bargain....this is the toughest search and your quest may take years. My recommendation is to spend a few bucks subscribing to some rural newspapers in varous locations in Arizona, Alabama, Georgia. There are folks out there who have no idea of the worth of what they have. Or in the opposite case, they are well aware of the value but must sacrifice and sell their project car fast, due to an upheaval in life. You do have to be in the right place at the right time. You can increase your odds of success by continually searching for your car everywhere searchable, whether or not you have "enough money" at hand.
For example, I kept an eye out for a classic car for several years. Of course I would have loved to get a Charger, but I lacked the big money needed to buy one that was drivable; and I personally didn't have the expertise to rebuild a car. I wanted to find something unique, tho'. I finally did, while driving down a country road in my own stomping grounds. And since I spent years going to car shows, swap meets, and watching the ads, I knew a bargain when I saw it. I bought the '67 Chevy Impala on sight. It had been for sale for about 20 minutes; I was in the right place at the right time, and was able to make an informed and confident purchase decision.
Awright, this was a long-winded answer, but I hope it helps anyone who is looking for their dream car. It's out there!
Brian
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Tell you what, cousin. I'll share my fifty percent of fifty percent of fifty percent with ya.
Far as my hobbies go...they ain't as numerous as they once were, due to time constraints. But, I enjoy horsepower and horses. If there's a car show, horse show, county fair or shindig goin' on, I'm there.
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The horse's muzzle explored the black coat and then zeroed in on the correct pocket. Damascus stuck his nose into the outer pocket of the long coat and helped himself.
Imagining himself elsewhere and with fairer company, Brian gave a drowsy, half-concious smile. "Mmm....yer gettin' warmer....khee..."
Damascus's answering whuff as he depleted the sugar cubes, caused Brian's eyes to slowly open. He blinked at Damascus in surprise. "GAH! Ah'm bein' robbed by mah own horse! Bad horse! Bad!"
Damascus lifted his nose from the pocket and chewed the last of the sugar, looking smug. Brian sat up, groaned at the fading echo of pain in his jaw, and regained his senses in full. Or as many of them as he'd ever possessed. He asked a question to whoever was in earshot. "Awright, ah'm not surprised that I'm in jail, but...what'd the horse do?"
(Cue anyone!)
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"Hog club?" Brian blinked, and glanced down at his midsection. He then flagged down the waitress. "Miss? Fergit the cheeseburger dee-luxe, better just bring me a salad."
(cue anyone!)
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The harsh blow from the gun handle cracked against Brian's chin. There had been no way to block the move and keep Chet pinned down at the same time; and so Brian took the full force of the blow, his body going slack as unconciousness pulled him down. He remained over Chet like dead weight until the rustler succeeded in shoving him off.
Brian's inert form slumped into the dirt and didn't move.
(Cue Alex!)
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Oh hell, Brian thought to himself as Chet counted down. After his shot into the air, Brian had leapt back behind the jailhouse, anticipating that Chet would turn those .45's upon him. But instead, Alex had managed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and was getting the brunt of Chet's bad mood.
"AWRIGHT!" Brian called out loudly. He hustled to the far corner of the back of the jailhouse. "I'm on the other side, heah! I'm gonna come around to the front, where you can see me under the street lamps! I'll have mah hands in the air! "
With this, Brian quickly jammed his gun back into the holster. The rear of the jailhouse had a low-roofed back porch, and an old rain barrel stood under one corner of it. By Coltrane luck it was empty, and Brian turned the barrel upside-down and climbed up on it. He grabbed the edge of the back roof and pulled himself up. Silently, on all fours like a cat, he crept along the far side of the roof. He called out reassurance to Chet. "I'm walkin' slow...just take it easy...."
Brian flattened himself low and crawled to the front of the roof, moving over towards Chet's position. He carefully lifted his head, peered down, and saw that the horses had their attention fixed upon the rustler and his hostage. Phoenix's body language told all. The well-trained police mount was pointing her long nose at the danger, her ears pinned flat.
Taking a deep breath, Brian flattened himself and silently crawled the last few feet. He remained out of view for another heartbeat....and then sprung to his feet, made sure of his target in that split second, and yelled out a warning.
"ALEX, HIT THE DIRT! HYAAAAAAAAH!!!" Brian had his hands in the air, as promised....along with the rest of him. He dove headfirst off the roof, his black-clad form descending in a well-aimed pounce to tackle Chet Duke.
(Cue anybody! Even Chet, you sodbustin' horse apple!)
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As he continued his carefree cruise towards Hazzard, Brian saw Hilery's Mustang in the ditch. He waved to her cordially. "Howdy, Hil !" There was no stopping for her, though. Diablo had a real issue with Fords, and attempting to pull one out of a ditch would promise Brian car troubles of his own for weeks.
Instead, he picked up the CB mike and radioed Cooter. This done, he hung the handset back on the CB and chuckled. "Two good deeds in one day. I oughta be ashamed of myself...heh heh!"
The rest of his drive to Hazzard was uneventful, and after another fifteen minute's travel, the long black Chevy swung around the town square. Brian pulled around to the impound lot of the Sheriff's Department, but found the gate shut and padlocked. He couldn't put the motorcycle in here just yet.
Walking inside the courthouse, Brian soon discovered that Enos had no key for the impound yard. Rosco had the only key, and the Sheriff was out on speed trap duty for another hour. This left Brian with a motorcycle stuck in his trunk for the time being. He left the courthouse, fired up the Chevy, and drove it down the block to the Busy Bee Cafe. The drive from Atlanta had left him hungry, and there was time to kill before Rosco was back in town.
Sitting down at a window booth, Brian kept a partial eye on Diablo while he awaited his lunch order. There seemed to be nothing going on in Hazzard today; all was quiet, subdued by the rainy weather.
Taking a swallow of Pepsi from an overpriced can, Brian thought about his good deeds for the day and smiled to himself. It looked like he was going to have one full day without any trouble....
(cue anybody!)
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(flattery will gitcha nowhere, Chet.)
As Chet's flighty horse tore out of the alley, Brian ducked back and stayed motionless near the back of the jailhouse. He watched, scowling, as Chet crept out of the alley like a barn rat and slunk to the side of the building.
Brian figured there was one reason and one reasonly only that Chet had snuck back to Hazzard in the middle of the night. Namely....revenge. The twin .45's in Chet's hands seemed to be indication enough of his intent.
Chet crouched low and didn't move for a few minutes. Brian did the same. But Chet was posing a real problem. If MaryAnne and Alex came out of the jailhouse, they would be in risk of Chet's attack.
If Brian shot Chet, MaryAnne would likely demonstrate the "or else" clause of their agreement.
If Brian attempted to capture Chet alive, he'd likely get shot.
Every card was a spade, but it was too late in the game to fold. Brian silently pointed his gun at the night sky. He was about to tip off Chet to his presence....and in doing so, he would intentionally draw the rustler's gunfire. Which should allow MaryAnne and Alex the opportunity to exit the jailhouse and surround him; the gunshot would send them flying into action.
"Talk about yer shot in the dark," Brian muttered to himself. He pulled the trigger and fired into the sky. *BLAM!!* The gunpowder flare from the barrel announced his location along with the cracking echo of the shot....
(Cue anybody! )
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I think the outcome purely depends on the type of contest. The General is more visibly impressive doing 180's, due to the longer chassis.
KITT, however, would trounce the General at a spelling bee.
Ya gotta pick yer battles.
Brian
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NBC was purposely trying to grab the Dukes audience, no doubt about that.
I'll give KITT this much, though. He had the vocabulary to hold his own at social occassions. Whereas if the General could talk, he would probably be limited to traditional Duke-speak like:
"Yeeehaaa!"
"You got that right."
"Uh-oh. There's Rosco."
Brian
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The sound of the shrill whinny from the back of the jailhouse riled the three horses just as Brian had calmed them. The animals bellowed simutaneously, right into Brian's ear. "@#$%&*!"
Phoenix, who was at the end of the hitch post, seemed especially agitated. The appaloosa mare peered suspiciously into the darkness behind the jailhouse, nostrils flared, ears twitching. Damascus and Sundance stood stock-still, unable to see the threat but sensing the mare's tension.
This, more than anything else, told Brian that the horse whinny didn't belong to anyone friendly. He had hoped, for a split second, that perhaps it was simply Rosco's horse calling a greeting with the Sheriff's return. But Rosco wouldn't be sneaking up through an alley, and Brian knew it.
Company was coming, and there was no telling who, or how many.
Brian knew he should retreat back inside of the jailhouse. He couldn't, however, burst inside with nothing more to report than an unidentified whinny. And so he furled back his long black coat, and his gun whispered from the holster with a fast, subtle movement. He spun the weapon in his hand once, settling it into a sure grip.
He paused just long enough to turn down the flame of the porch lanterns. Darkness closed over Brian and enveloped his black-clad form with the night.
With a thief's silence, he stalked to the opposite end of the porch, leaving the horses tied to the hitch post. Phoenix continued to stare towards the back of the jailhouse, her attention focused on an alley. Brian marked the line of the mare's vision...and then slunk around the corner of the jailhouse. He kept his back to the outer wall, gun in hand, trusting that the building was blocking the sight of him from whoever was in that alley. His spurless boots made no sound as he edged closer to the rear of the building.
(cue CHET you low down dirty yeller dawg.....)
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Howdy Angie! Welcome to HazzardNet. Make yerself at home!
Brian
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The Hazzard County jailhouse was lit up with the cheerful glow of kerosene lanterns. A couple of lanterns were hung from the porch posts, illuminating the hitching post out front. There, two horses waited patiently for their dinner.
A third horse was not being patient at all. After a long drink of water and a standing nap, Damascus was tired of waiting. The black horse tugged at his tie-rope. He whinnied. He pawed the ground. He kicked his front hoof at the water trough. This irritated Phoenix, who had been otherwise resting comfortably. Happy as the mare had been to see her pasture companion, Damascus's fit displeased her. She told him so by pinning her ears flat and giving a nip to his flank.
This caused Damascus to squeal loudly and give a reflexive kick of one hind leg, which hit the buckskin horse tied alongside him. Showdown bawled a protest and kicked back, and Damascus whinnied a complaint.
The noise interrupted Brian's conversation with MaryAnne and Alex. The black-clad outlaw strode out from the jailhouse to see what had the horses riled. Damascus swung his ears up and craned his thick neck out hopefully. *sugar?*
Brian could read the thought. "Do you think ah'm made outta sugar?! Spoiled horse...keep it down out heah!" All the same, Brian dug two sugar cubes from his pocket. Damascus slobbered them up, and immediately Phoenix and Showdown wanted their own treat. The horses nickered and pressed their noses towards Brian.
"Oh, for...awright, awright! Don't get pushy." Brian produced more treats from his pockets. The sugar disappeared from his open palms instantly. Chuckling, he reached out and patted Damascus, who had began to nibble on his hat. "Yeah, I know, dinner's late and yer gonna waste away to a ton. You'll get your oats as soon as we're done talkin' posse' business. So behave yerself, eh?"
Intent on settling down his horse, Brian didn't take notice of anything in town just yet...
(cue anyone!)
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Howdy ya'll ! Just a quick reminder, that HazzardNet does not permit solicitation of it's members through the forums.
In other words, if you wanna have a link exchange with us - fantastic, but go through the proper channels. Email us at:
This will give us a chance to check out yer website, and see if we are companionable. Otherwise, the forums could turn into one big run of classified ads, and that's not the idea.
Newsworthy stuff, like links to Dukes-related articles n' such, are okay. We totally welcome that and appreciate it. What makes HazzardNet unique is that content comes from everybody. And in turn, we do all we can to protect the best interests of everybody. We try to be as open and fair as possible, without totally losing control of the place.
We don't comb through stuff with a magnifying glass...but if we've got reason to doubt the value, or authenticity, or the claims made behind a link somebody slapped up... we'll remove it. We're not tryin' to be jerks; we just gotta be careful. You might notice that HazzardNet doesn't paste itself all over other poeple's sites; we ask for the same courtesy in return.
If you ever have any questions about our policies n' such - which we readily admit we make up as we go along - email us at webmaster@hazzardnet.com. Or, send a Private Message to me or any other Moderator.
Thank ya for your understandin'.
Brian
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Brian was concerned about the "or else " clause in MaryAnne's offer. It was clear that she wouldn't be permitting them to take the law into their own hands. When it came time to apprehend the rustlers, Brian knew that he and Alex would be required to obey whatever orders the law gave. Despite any conflicting opinions of their own. Or else.
Yet, the opportunity to help protect MaryAnne and rest of Hazzard, and keep his own rear out of jail , was an offer he couldn't refuse. With a sudden smile, Brian touched the brim of his hat, and gave MaryAnne a deep nod. "At yer service, Deputy."
(cue anybody!)
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Sorry, I was kinda lazy with that other post, wasn't I ! Awright, here's how to find it. From the website of http://www.ertltoys.com
click on "Joyride Studios" in the upper left of the site categories.
From there, click on the tab at the upper left for "Vehicles."
At the bottom of the next screen, click on the link for "more entertainment vehicles."
Yer almost there! Now, click in the tiny little link that says "Dukes of Hazzard - General Lee." Should be 4th from the top on the left side o' the link list.
There ya go!
Brian
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"There ain't no if about us bein' locked up," Brian sighed. 'MaryAnne might not string us up, but she's sure as hell gonna have us breakin' rocks for awhile. Meantime, she's gonna go out after them rustlers, and risk gettin' shot up like a tin can."
After a moment's thinking, Brian added, "Min's still back at the cabin...and maybe this gamblin' woman can help us out somehow. But we can't run off now. We'd only be forcin' MaryAnne to do somethin' lawfully unpleasant. We gotta play it cool....and wait. I'm just hopin' the wait don't turn out to be twenty years."
(Cue anybody!)
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Thoughts of those rustlers, along with the unknown final fate of Chet Duke, haunted Brian as he rode into town. He had the feeling that Hazzard wasn't going to be safe for anybody, as long as those wild cards remained at the bottom of the deck.
The law, especially, wouldn't be safe....
Brian looked out the corner of his eye at MaryAnne. She was herding them directly to the hoosegow. Given all that had happened, Brian didn't blame her. Yet, the idea that he and Alex were going to be locked up, while Chet and his gang were loose to do Lord-knew-what, filled his heart with ambivalence. MaryAnne would no doubt go hunting for the band of rustlers....and they played for keeps.
Brian glanced over at Alex. The blonde drifter had been watching him, probably having similar thoughts. Slowing Damascus just a fraction, Brian nudged his horse closer to the buckskin Alex rode. He spoke as quietly as he could, hoping not to be overheard by MaryAnne.
"Alex...ah'm gettin' the feelin', that once you n' me are sent up the river...the damn is gonna break."
(Cue Alex!)
Dubious Intentions
in Round Robin Stories
Posted
Brian watched Chance saunter out of the cafe. He gave a wistful sigh at her departure, wishing she didn't have to return to the clinic. Otherwise, they would have squandered the afternoon away in each other's breathless company.
Brian picked up his fork and stabbed at the salad. While chewing away, he began daydreaming about his next physical, a private smile on his face.
Cooter strolled up from the back of the cafe'. The Hazzard mechanic wore a toothy grin, and set down a plate of food at Brian's table. "I had the waitress hold your cheeseburger dee-luxe," Cooter chuckled. "Way I see it, you're gonna need your strength. That's a lotta woman you got there, ol' Bri. Heh heeeh!"
Brian looked up from the salad. "You ain't just whistlin' Sweet Home Alabama."
Cooter pulled down the brim of his greasy baseball cap in salute, and turned for the door. The mechanic was all grins as he walked out, literally singing in the rain as he strolled back to the garage.
Brian wolfed down the cheeseburger, and as the waitress brought his bill, he discovered the reason for Cooter's good mood. Somehow, both Cooter's lunch and his own were on the same tab. Muttering, Brian dug out his wallet and paid up. "Nevah safe from a shuck n' jive in this town...ya think I'd learn."
He left the cafe, and paused under the awning to zip up his jacket and flip up the collar. Walking quickly to Diablo, he opened the driver's door and jumped inside, pulling the door shut with a fast slam. He stuck the key into the ignition, wondering if Rosco was back from patrol yet....
(cue anybody)