Brian Coltrane

Unaware of a darn thing other than his need to get to Hazzard and try to help Alex, Brian urged his horse to maintain a rolling gallop. The black-clad outlaw pictured various scenarios of doom awaiting the blonde drifter who had befriended him. If the law lynched Alex, Brian would never forgive himself. And Chet Duke being alive, was one more problem in a deck of spades. With MaryAnne returning to Hazzrad sooner than expected - and arresting Alex along the way - a spur had been thrown into what seemed like a profitable, harmless venture of selling already-stolen horses. But even before that, stuff had started going wrong. Chet had pushed things...and pushed himself into being expendable...and then Chet's gang had tore up the town and ended up littering the street with their lifeless bodies. That was the drawback about crime; it tended to compound itself....going far beyond original intent. And though the Hazzard law was his kin, Brian knew that he was not exempt from the reckoning of justice. It was damn awkward when everyone else in the family wore a badge. Now, instead of having a pile of cash and time to waste it, Brian had a patched-up body and a friend in deep trouble. And somewhere out there, were the remaining members of Chet's gang. If that wasnt' enough, there was also the long arm of the law....which would soon be reaching his way. The best strategy Brian had, was to ride fast into town and break Alex out of jail before anyone realized he was there. No one would expect an outlaw to ride up to the county jail. He only had to make it there in one piece, and in record time.... (Cue anybody!)

I've got a well-defined sense of irony, but that's a jump too far. John and Tom as Coy and Vance.... There's been some alarmin' suggestions about the movie, but this is the worst of the bunch so far. (Congrats, Hogg Jr. - I don't scare easy! ) AAAAAAHHH!! Brian

Hey, we're easy to convince on that one. But Hollywood is callin' the shots. WB is not about to pass up the opportunity of makin' fresh money on new tunes...rather than pay renewed royalties on ol' Waylon's number. But Waylon's "Good Ole Boys" theme song will always be the true Dukes theme, far as I'm concerned. Sadly, it wasn't used in either of the Dukes TV reunion movies, if I recall correctly. Brian

Just in case y'all didn't see MaryAnne's post under "Chat Times" (way at the bottom of the forum index ) there's a chat this Saturday, Oct 30, at 8 pm Eastern time. How's that for service!

General Discussion chat on the Dukes o' Hazzard....in other words, more of the usual shenanigans, except everybody talks at once.

How much does the PS2 cost these days? I'll admit, I ain't owned a home game system since....I'm not gonna say it and embarass myself. I'm lucky I have a working computer at the moment, so you know how it is.

Temptest, you're more than welcome to post an invite to a chat in the chatroom, for whatever date n' time suits ya. It's true the room doesn't get a lot of use, because some of us hang out on AIM or Yahoo Messenger, and the chatroom nevah became a regular habit. But it's there for the use n' enjoyment of all. G'wan and use it. So, you went snoopin' around, eh? Find anything else good that we've probably forgot we had? Brian

On an aside, it looks like MaryAnne is gearin' up for the first-ever HazzardNet sing-a-long. I think all those sountrack posts on the other threads got her hopes up. Yo, MaryAnne! Soundtrack auditions are down the hall. In another building. On the other side of the country. Heh heh. I dig the Georgia Satellites too, tho'. "It was gettin' real late...an' I was startin' to give in...that's when she talked about true luuuve, started talkin' about sin! Ah said honey ah'll live wit-cha for the rest o' mah life! She said no huggy-no-kissie until you make me yer wife!"

Wow, y'all know who Steve Earle is! Sonofagun....further proof, that people on HazzardNet know what's cool. Capt'n, to answer yer question about the soundtrack....it's part official snoopin', and part deduction. I'd heard several months ago that Britney was fighting to keep her shot at the Daisy role, partially because of the soundtrack opportunity. And now, we got Jessica Simpson, and possibly Willie Nelson and Travis Tritt involved in the movie, so that's what I mean by big names. It's only natural that they'll sing together at some point. You can't avoid it. Heh heh. Brian

Howdy, ChevHell. Welcome to HazzardNet! Awright, you've challenged me on that blue-flag thang, and now the onus is on me to make proof. I don't have a scanned picture of it, but I did find the information in a historical textbook of All Things Reb. I'll quote my source as soon as I can dig through my stuff here. But, to show that I'm not completely and entirely fulla beans, I do offer this information for ya. The Confederate States and their respective dates of sucession are below: South Carolina Dec 20 1860 Mississippi Jan 09 1861 Florida Jan 10 1861 Alabama Jan 11 1861 Georgia Jan 19 1861 Louisiana Jan 26 1861 Texas Feb 01 1861 Virginia April 17 1861 Arkansas May 06 1861 Tennessee May 07 1861 North Carolina May 21 1861 Now, if yer doin' the math, you'll say...."Hey, wait a minute. There's only 11 states in that list, but there's 13 stars on the Confederate battle flag." You're right. Here's why: The states of Kentucky and Missouri did not formally secede from the Union. As such, they were not technically "enemy" states of the Federal government, but of course there were rebel sympathies among the populace. Anyhow, even though legislative measures to secede from the Union failed in these states, the Confederacy recognized them anyhow...and thus the 12th and 13th stars on the rebel flag represented Missouri and Kentucky. Brian

Pendragon, I salute ya, and I applaud your courage for speaking up. We're all very glad you're here! In an earlier post, EddieM made some good points. In addition, the kind thoughts and wishes of the other folks here speak for the caliber of the HazzardNet crowd. Some of us know each other quite well; some of us only know each other by our posts. But we are all part of a community, and each one of us brings something to the group that is unique and irreplacable. None of us know what kind of challenges will hit us in life. Also, there's no predicting when a friend will be struck low by events that have no immediate solution...and by emotions that have hit a breaking point. Sometimes there are no outward warning signs, no advance notice....no "reason" that would seem justifiable to anyone outside of the problem. Having any number of family and friends won't stop somebody from the attempt. To speak of Pendragon's situation...it's likely she had family and friends who were shocked to find out what happened. And the overriding question in thier minds had to be...."Why??" The answer to that "Why" is never adequate, to those left behind. I'm rambling on because there's probably a reason Pendragon felt it was time to talk about it - so maybe there's a reason this thread was meant to roll. Something could be said here, that will help somebody. Or help someone help someone else. So what do ya do, if a friend or family member out of the blue throws you a warning sign...or sounds like they're breaking under pressure? Listen to them. Keep them talking. Let those terrible waves of emotion spill out, before it consumes the person inside. A person might want to die to escape intense pain - emotional, or physical - or, they might feel trapped in a situation and see no hope for positive change. Or all of the above. The emotions on both sides of the suicide transaction are the same. The despondent person is overwhelmed with feelings of grief, anger, depression, helplessness. The people left behind, are then overwhelmed with feelings of grief, anger, depression, helplessness.... But where there is love and compassion....there is hope of breaking through...and hanging on. Everyone's life touches another's. It's not the number of friends and family that matters. (There's no faster way to feel lonely, than in a room full of people.) It's the connection you have with them; the trust, the openess. It's the ability to share. The ability to reach out when you need help, and to reach down when someone else needs lifting up. Brian

That's a band I haven't heard on the air in a long time. But yeah, they're definately good ol' boy rockers. One of my picks for a soundtrack contributor would be Steve Earle, tho' nodoby knows who the hell he is these days. Anybody familiar with the tunes "Copperhead Road" and "Hillbilly Highway" would dig the connection to a Hazzard-esque sound. Like everythin' else about this movie, they're gonna go for big names on the soundtrack - and it sounds like they've got a couple lined up already. I'm thinkin' the soundtrack could be better than the flick. Heh heh. Brian

Larry, that's cool. I'm familiar with the LaCrosse/Onalaska/Sparta area. LaCrosse is a beautiful town. Kind of a rustic, lonesome area up there, with the high bluffs on the banks o' the Mississippi. I was last up there few years ago for Riverfest; they had Night Ranger playin' on stage, I recall. And ya know...it doesn't matter to us none, if you're Tom's third cousin, or yer own grandpa. We're glad to have ya! Brian

Through the chaos, Brian had stood close to Rosco, resting one hand on the Sheriff's uniformed shoulder. The senior of the Coltrane cousins was shook up, but still standing. Probably because there wasn't room for a dead faint. After Chet stormed upstairs, it was with relief....and some savage glee, that Brian heard the fight erupt between the conspirators. A falling out within the ranks of the captors, offered hope for the incarcerated. "The pressure's gettin' to 'em," Brian muttered to Rosco. "They're in over their heads. Sooner or later, somebody's gonna let us out in hopes of makin' a deal with the law." "I'll deal 'em a kick in the posterior," Rosco said. Brian grinned, and was about to offer suggestions for revenge, when he noticed that MaryAnne had her own ideas. The deputy was standing, looking in the direction of the stairs, listening to the fight with interest. She had no gun, nor weapons of any kind, but she still wore her uniform and badge. She was the only Hazzard officer who was outside of the cells, having been allowed out to help the wounded conspirator. And now, she was contemplating the only opportunity she might have to do something, before somebody...on either side of bars...got killed. That somebody could be MaryAnne, if she took the risk. But there was a sense of duty in her that never quit... (cue anybody!)

Yo, Sven! Welcome to HazzardNet. What is it about Dukes of Hazzard that appeals to y'all ? I'm curious if it's the same things that we dig here in the U.S. Mainly, that it's just plain fun. I've met Dukes fans from all over the place; and they are the most friendly and outgoing bunch of people to be found. What a world this could be, if the Dukes of Hazzard were continually broadcast around the globe. Yep, that's my plan for world peace. Brian

I do own an Ideal 1981 slot racing set, with the crossover jump. It's still factory sealed, box has never been opened. (despite all temptation.) It's not currently for sale; and if I were to ever part with it, I'd ask for a ridiculous sum of money. I talked about this in another thread within the collection stuff - you might wanna try hitting some car shows/swap meets/collectible shows to look for these race sets. I've found some great Dukes collectibles this way, at reasonable prices. Good luck, and happy collectin'! Brian

Ya Hey, Larry! Welcome to HazzardNet. I know a number o' Wisconsin folks myself. What part of the state do ya hail from? And if Tom doesn't show up at y'alls place, maybe you could take in one of his gigs. I know he did a few WI shows this last summer; he'll probably work his way home again. Brian

(co-written by Riddick and Brian ) "Fargo?!" Anderson shouted hastily as he entered the building slamming the door behind him. "What the hell are you trying to do? Announce our presence to the dead, you damned fool." Fargo sat up from slouching in his chair, his voice a mean snap. Fargo placed his hand tenderly over the painful gash across his gut, he watched his partner enter, the other mans facial expression telling all. But he said nothing, he waited, putting the pressure of silence on his partner as he stared with an evil, twisted expression. Anderson shook his head and nervously glanced around, his eyes glaring for a quick moment at thier prisoner sitting at the table with his hands in plain view. He looked at his partner and ran a hand over his face in pure agitation. "The boss says that we can't do anything until he gets here sometime within the next 24 hours. " Anderson snapped in distaste. "What!?" Fargo spat with angry eyes. "Hello NO!" We caught him were gonna be the ones to that get led to Riddick's body! That jackass ain't taking all the credit, or profit!" "Damn right he ain't. Lets go ahead and get this plowboy to talk." He paused giving Brian a hungry grin of satisfaction. "When were done with him we can trade his body for Riddick's." Brian felt his heart make a swan dive into his stomach and sink to the bottom. He swallowed, but said nothing, forcing his expression into an aloof mask. "You keep the gun on him," Anderson said to Fargo. I'll get him talking." Fargo shook his head. "No way man! I went through hell to get my hands on Riddick! Im going to be the one to find out where he is!" "But I...." "You keep the gun on him." Fargo forced the gun into Anderson's hands and took a pair of brass knuckles out of his pocket. Unhappily, Anderson took the gun and steadily pointed it back at Brian's temple, sighing, feeling like he never got to have any of the fun. "Alright you dumb hick! Where's Riddick's body! What did your friends do with it?!" Fargo slid the brass knuckles onto his right fist and glared. "Answer..." Brian answered immediately. "Beats me.....I nevah got a chance to follow 'em, did I." "No! But you know what they would have done with him! Now I'll ask you again.... where's Riddick's body! You were there when he was shot I know you know!" Fargo spoke the truth, Anderson had seen the whole thing from the roof top, it was only Brian's dark clothing that had saved him from a bullet as well. "I saw him get up and run after I shot him!" Anderson said with a snap. Inexplicibly, Brian leaned back in the chair and began to laugh, a deep chuckle coming from him. The bounty hunters had just given away what they did...and didn't, know. One Coltrane shuck-n-jive was coming up... "Y'all are fools," Brian said through a mocking grin. The hick-act was fading, and he put an edge of scorn into his voice. "Idiots. Rank amatures. You saw Riddick run into woods. An' then you caught me later, wipin' blood away. You believed me, when I said somebody took the body away. You nevah thought to go back into the woods with me and make sure, did you." Feeling made fun of and dumb, Fargo drew his brass knuckle clad fist back and swung, striking Brian acrossed the right side of his jaw. His teeth bared in anger and frustration, the plowboy was right, they hadn't gone back to check the woods and see if Riddick's body was there. Fargo drew his fist back again, ready to strike. "You're lying.... Riddick ain't out in those woods. I know how you hicks work, you would never leave one of your kind behind... dead or alive! Now tell me where he is or I'll hit you twice the next time!" "--agh!" Brian's head snapped to the side with the blow. He gripped the end of the table, keeping himself upright, and hissed a pained breath through his teeth. He slowly turned his head towards Fargo, dark eyes burning. Brian's answer came in a low, quiet voice, the words curled around a snarl. "You bought it hook, line, and sinker, you sonsab****es. Riddick ain't one of mah kind...and without me, you'll nevah find his stinkin' carcass in the woods." Brian paused, then spoke again in a sudden roar. "NEVAH!!" His anger boiling over by the hicks bold reply, Fargo released the rubber- band like hold he had on his fist, again connecting with the side of Brian's jaw. Once.... Twice he struck the prisoner. "You tell us.... if we have to take turns going at you all night long! You WILL show us where his body is!" For good measure he punched Brian in the ribs as hard as his own aching body would allow. " --aah! Ugh! " The punches were savage, and as much as Brian braced himself for it, the pain spiked through him like hammer blows. He bowed his head and panted, knowing that he only remained concious because Fargo wanted him that way. But it was shaping up to be a long, bad night....and Brian knew that protecting Riddick and his kin, might call for a sacrifice. When he'd recovered enough to answer, Brian lifted his head again. The side of his face bore a gash from the brass knuckles, but he allowed no fear to show in his expression. Instead, there was a narrow-eyed challenge. "Keep it up, jackass, and ah won't be able to show you anythin'. Except this." With solemn ceremony, Brian brought up his right hand and extened his middle finger. With an angry grunt of effort, Fargo brought his brass-covered knuckles down upon Brian's offending hand with the upraised middle finger. Baring his teeth he pressed the brass knuckles against Brian's hand, crushing it between the table and his fist. "Tell me where he is... or you will never use this hand again." Fargo said through his teeth. " ---- @#$%&* ---- !!" There was death, and then there was dismemberment. Of the two, Brian found the latter harder to cope with. "AWRIGHT! He's in the woods! Where ah left him, by the water! There was nobody else....just me! I was gonna get help to haul him outta there when ya caught me...aaaahh!" Fargo released the pressure on his prisoner's hand, but didn't raise the brass knuckles. His eyes gazed into Brian's, his own glazed over in fierce anger. "Did you see Anderson in the woods that night?!" "Yeah - " Brian gasped out. "Saw the flashlight.....he got kinda close.....ah just froze till he turned back." After a breath, Brian looked up and added, "If you hadn't called him back, he mighta found me. Yer too damn impatient, man." "Anderson! Go get the hand cuffs out of the car, we're going for a ride." Fargo said, placing the brass knuckles back into his pocket. "A ride?" Anderson sounded hesitant as he looked at Fargo, his eyes wider. "Is he going with us?" " I said WE'RE didn't I?! Now move it!" Fargo spat, tearing the gun out of Anderson's hand, his eyes never leaving his prey. He spoke again to Brian. "Your going to lead us right to Riddick's body.... if his body is there like you say then you just might live.... if the buzzards dont get you!" It was an empty promise, and Brian knew it. The bounty hunters would have dispatched him no matter what. And once they found out they'd been duped....things would get messy. But for now, Brian only nodded and flexed his right hand, working the pain from it. Anderson quickly went out to the Camaro sitting behind the building and got the hand cuffs out of the glove box, just as Fargo had instructed. He soon returned with them. "Put them on him, make sure they're good and tight, we dont need him getting loose!" Fargo deamnded. "Get up, hick! Move it! One wrong move outta you and we'll be trading a dead body for less then a bloody carcass." "Awright, awright...shaddap." Brian stood slowly, offering no resistance as Anderson approaced him. As roughly as physically possible, Anderson grasped one of Brian's wrists and wrenched his arm around behind his back, clamping the cuffs on one wrist then the other. "Alright you... back to the car." Anderson demanded, a touch of hesitance in his voice. He didn't like Brian, or the looks of their black-clad prisoner, there was something about him that sent a shudder down his spine. A sense that made him wish that he had at least taken a shot at the man when he had the chance. Fargo had no reservations. He flicked the gun in the direction of the door motioning Brian to get a move on it, unlike his partner he felt nothing but anger and pure hatred towards his prisoner. If the slightest chance presented itself, he swore to himself he would kill that hick. After being forced into the cuffs, Brian straightened up, squared his shoulders, and looked at Fargo and Anderson with a distainful eye. He then walked towards the door, slowly, not doing anything to cause undue violence against him. But once at the door, he paused by it and waited. "Ladies first," he drawled, giving a slight bow to Anderson. Suddenly Anderson's fist came up, his feeling of hesitance washed away in a burst of anger. His fist collided with the center of Brian's abdomen and then into the small of his back. "Get out there you stupid sonofa@#$%!" Fargo opened the door and grabbed Brian by the back of his black shirt and hauled him roughly outside. With a cough of pain, Brian staggered through the door, Anderson practically carrying him by the scruff of the neck. "Awright...ladies second," Brian muttered. As rough and brutally as possible Fargo and Anderson dragged Brian to the rear of the Camaro. With a simple nod towards the trunk, Anderson stuck the key into the lock. "First class." Anderson said as he opened it. Brian eyed the open trunk with misgiving. Camaro's weren't big on luggage space. "Hey man....the backseat is fine. Really. Ah'll even shut up." "Get in there you @#$% hick!" With that, Fargo gave Brian a swift shove towards the trunk, the barrell of his gun pressed against the back of his head. Having little to lose at this point, Brian pushed the envelope. "Say please." Fargo pulled back the hammer of the gun. At the sinister click of the hammer, Brian winced. "Guess that's yer way of sayin' 'please'. Well, so long as your bein' so @#$%&* polite about it...." Brian threw one leg over the end of the trunk, shifted himself over inside, and fell into it, landing on his back. He pulled the other leg in and flattened himself the best he could, making sure he wouldn't be bonked with the trunk lid. "There, happy?" In answer to Brians smart reply, Anderson slammed the trunk down hard and walked the drivers side of the car and opened the door. "Come on, lets go." Fargo nodded and sat down in the passenger seat. A moment later, the Camaro fired up and began to pull away from the old warehouse. (Cue anybody!)

BAHAHAHA!! I can see how Pendragon would be all turned on with Eau De WD-40.... And heah I thought the scent of fryin' bacon was the way to catch a redneck woman. Damn. Brian

Howdy there. I'm no mechanical expert, but I happen to have the JC Whitney dixie horn in my own car. No problems with mine, though of course the compression gets low and the horn slows down if ya play with it too much. Works best when the engine is running and it's good and charged up. Anyhoo - sounds like you could have a short in the horn. If this is a brand new kit, it's possible you have a defective one. I'd suggest making sure the horn is clean and free from debris. If you have the horns pointing up, near the grill, it's possible that moisture can get inside the horns and raise havoc. If you've checked all the basics, and there's no cause found for the sour note - I'd recommend returning the horn for an exchange. Brian

Pendragon, ah'm flattered. You got me thinkin' of how grand life could be with a real redneck woman like yerself. Just think...comin' home to our own trailer...fifteen dogs barkin' in the yard....aluminium cans scattered on the porch. We'd eat pork n' beans out of the same pan,...over the romantic, flickerin' light of a TV set with an illegal cable converter. Temptin'. Very temptin'. Brian

At the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, Brian spoke up. "Daney, give Chet the damn keys. Maybe you don't mind gettin' killed, but I'd rather not see Rosco, or MaryAnne, or anybody else heah, made an example of." With this, Brian edged up closer to the bars, until he was at Rosco's shoulder. With a silent, dark-eyed glare, Brian watched the rogue Duke boy. There was no telling what would happen, once Chet was loose again....and in Brian's cold expression, there was a criminal's scorn. He knew a screwed-up plan when he saw it.... ...and he knew how expensive screwed-up plans could get. The cost was usually paid with innocent lives.... ( Cue anybody. )

Pendragon, you are the Queen of the Rednecks. If not the High Priestess! I award you this scepter ( bathroom plunger ) and paper crown (obtained from the local Burger King.) I offer you a gift of fragrance (Deep Woods Off ) and fine wine (Boone's Farm 3-for-five-dollars.) We heahby salute you with a Skoal 21-gum salute. Pting! Brian

BAHAHAHA!! Those are all pretty good. A few things to add on my own behalf: 1) You eat yer dinnner right out of the pan you cooked it in. And if you have leftovers, you shove the entire pan into the fridge. 2) Havin' barbed-wire fencin' around yer property is a status symbol. 3) You shoot a gun into the air to celebrate the following: New Year's Eve, Fourth of July, family weddings, and whenever your sports team wins a big game. 4) You get excited when motor oil is on sale.

"We're full down heah!" Brian said. "No vacancies! Not acceptin' applications! Capacity has been reached! Standin' room only! Reservations ree-quired!" Brian knew the only way one more person would fit in, was if one was taken out...and who knew what that could mean. After Chet's earlier outburst...Brian wasn't interested in leaving the confines of the cell. (cue anyone)