The Story of The Bronco Horde

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TCheney
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The Story of The Bronco Horde

Post by TCheney » Thu Feb 15, 2007 12:06 pm

This multi-part article was turned down for publication by a well known vehicle specific magazine. I thought some of you might appreciate the genius of its compilation. I will be posting it by chapter. Here is the introduction:

The soft murmur of goat noises lent an idyllic note as the sun set slowly
behind the row of Broncos parked on the edge of the cliff. It had been a
hard day in some ways. There was the inevitable loss of life. That had
almost become normal. And yet, much had been gained. A physical
tiredness settled over the camp. The good kind. The kind best savored
after the blood and gore had been rinsed out of the t-shirts and the knives had been sharpened and put away. Later, when the captives had all been used up and the pillage fought over and divided, they would find a place to do it again. Hoping for another evening much like this one.

It needs to be know however, not all of our enemies relinquish their gold and women to the Bronco Horde without a fight, although feeble, they do fight. We have lost some of our finest steeds to battle. Some, given the opportunity, just run off to new owners.

Bounty Hunter. She rode fearlessly into battle many times. Never once did she hesitate.

Orangey. Her unmodified appearance brought much appreciation from our enemy only moments before their life was swept away by the swift, heavy blade of her rider.

Fear Me. Known through out Mongolia for flexibility comparable only to a God. With the growl of a lion, he fought with the strength of many warriors.

Venom. Although homosexual, Venom was part Zebra. Rare purple Zebra. He was known to walk on air. Sometimes.

The Bronco Horde continues to ride the strongest, ponies known to all men. Fear Me has sired at least one Bronco. To this day, ridden great distances by Earl E. Braunco. Venom, the Homosexual Zebra, in a very rare instance sired a yet to be named Bronco. She shares some of the purple and black stripes of her father.

Alas, things change. Like the moons of August or the sands of time, only
becoming a different form of beauty to behold the next time. These things and many more are the Horde. Behold the power, revel in the fearless mite of the Men who are the Horde for it is here that ones true self is not only taught, but learned. At birth sacred rituals passed down from generations are practiced against a full moon in late August preparing the child for a life full of adventure, sorrow and finally death. In the years to come that child learns from the elders all that will be needed to fulfill his life's destiny. Painful lessons once learned are courage in his manhood for the life a Hordesman leads. Most fail, some succeed. Those fortunate not to falter early are the leaders of today. Once a child, now a man. From this pool, from this slice of mankind rises the most feared most respected.

The Bronco Horde.

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Post by TCheney » Thu Feb 15, 2007 1:06 pm

Chapter 1 The Prospector
Roger set the gold pan carefully on the rocks of the stream bank next to
where he was sitting. The muscles in his lower back ached from the long
morning of panning.

The Jeep had been working its way up the canyon for the past hour. Roger
had heard it at first. He kept track of its progress more subconsciously
than any other way. His mind was on his panning. A small vial of color was
all he had to show for a lot of gravel moving through that pan. These
mountains had given up a lot of gold a few centuries earlier when getting up
this high meant a week on horseback and even longer if you had to hike.
Roger's Bronco had made short work of the climb earlier in the week. The
panning had not been very successful, but success is measured in different
ways to the modern prospector. A flash of purple off in the distance
announced the imminent arrival of the Jeep. "Who the hell would paint their
rig in a color normally reserved for faggy Italian Sports cars?" Roger
wondered as the be-chromed juggernaut of dirt roads bobbed and lurched
amongst the trees. The trail had not been kind to this rig. The driver's
lack of skill was evident as was his penchant for cheap bolt on accessories.
Not that it mattered. It would all bring a decent buck on ebay, later,
after he returned to his other life.

Roger reached for the Mini 14, out of sight behind a rock, simultaneously
checking the holstered Glock 19 at his hip.

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Tom Dummer
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Post by Tom Dummer » Thu Feb 15, 2007 7:13 pm

WAIT< lemme go get another Hamms..............................................








OK proceede..........................................
<<<<<<<<<<<<<

When something goes wrong and I'm smiling, It's because I already have someone to blame.

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Post by TCheney » Fri Feb 16, 2007 10:11 am

Chapter 2 The Tale of Denghis
It would be an easy hack. Something he could do between bites of sandwich
at lunch. His office was situated so he could do this kind of thing without
much bother from those who shared this space. Getting inside the digital
vault for the movie studio had been much tougher. Three fat hard drives
stuffed with mpegs and images sat across the room reminding him of that
enterprise. He had spent a solid month setting that one up. He still
hadn't sorted through everything he netted. He doubted he ever would. It
wasn't the plunder he did it for. He was Denghis Con and this was his gig.
Bloodless battle.

One more step through the password maze. He was nearing the epicenter and
already anticipating the Britney Spears home movies. What was it about
these slim, young blondes? "Focus, dude." No stray key strokes allowed at
this level. Mouse click on the submit key and he leaned back waiting for
the rush.

The barrage of pop-ups assaulting his screen hit him like a sucker punch.
This was a set up! A very elaborate set up!! Commotion at the kiosk
downstairs alerted him. A small light began flashing on the sleek grey
telephone/intercom on his desk. He had somehow been compromised. Was it
the Russians? Couldn't be, they didn't have money. Must be Chinese. No
time to figure it out now. As his computer continued to display the endless
stream of virus laden nonsense, he knew this terminal was toast. Quickly,
he hit the inline kill switch and the screen went dark. The acrid smell of
toasted silicon and plastic filled the room. Grabbing his laptop, tampons
and a spare pare of socks from his desk drawer, we went for the window.
Stuffing everything into the euro-trash messenger bag, He popped the lock
and stepped out onto the ledge. the noises and shouting getting louder
behind him all the while. The old cast iron downspout, a relic from a time
in the past, ran right next to his window. In the spring rain it gurgled
loud enough that he could hear it inside the old brick structure. Now it
served a different purpose. He eased himself down the face of the building.
The sounds inside replaced by the madness of the city. Only three flights
to go. He would miss it here. This had been his city. Stupid that he
would risk it all for the thrill of the hunt. Not stupid. He could hunt
anywhere. Jumping the last half story, he hit the pavement and blended with
the rest of the humanity.

Shouting sounds from above, he risked a glance to see that it was the
Chinese. At his window. Guns drawn. Not even they would shoot into this
crowd.

Rounding the corner, he is again anonymous. Passing his daily driver at the
curb, he notices two more of the same brand of thug that now occupied his
office. Walking past with as much nonchalance as he could muster, he
continues to a small ill kept parking garage. The Bronco, parked inside and
always ready will get him out of town. And beyond. Time to ride. Maybe
west, at last. With the rest of them.

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Post by Mherriford » Fri Feb 16, 2007 8:59 pm

Com'on Com'on more already!!!!
Sanity is the playground for the unimaginative

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Post by Doyle » Sat Feb 17, 2007 1:36 pm

Interesting reading. When will the book be out? Have you sold the movie rights yet?
73 Bronco Ranger, 302, 3 speed floor shift, twin-sticked Dana 20, disk conversion (78 knuckles, caliper brackets, T-bird calipers), Power brake conversion, Warflares (extreme install) 12.50 x 35 Mudkings on 10 x 15s, 2" x 6" box tube rockers, home built bumpers.

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Post by TCheney » Tue Feb 20, 2007 12:11 pm

This one took some editing. The language was a little too rough for this tender crowd.

Chapter 3 Venom
If only they had not tried to take it. If only they had picked some other
quasi-military defense industry to rob. Then I wouldn't be hustling across
the desert. If only I hadn't wanted to show off the new green stripes.

Typically we test these things so far out in the boonies that we all chopper
in. This prototype of a hyper-lethal missile delivery system is so
controllable that we can land it in your driveway, hit the Honda and miss
the Toyota. Our test arena, so close to town that we shuttled the brass out
here in some leased Hummers so they would feel at home. If home were
upholstered in leather and catered, that is.

The test had gone well. No explosions, which are the usual deal closers.
We had this one locked at time and materials for the next five years. This
one was just to show off that we were on schedule. Prototype to launch in
Libya, or some other "next threat" as yet to be determined, in a year. It
was the operational up-close model that they wanted. Bastards.

Now here I am. F- this. I didn't sign on for this. I should be on
my bike right now, or getting some swim time in. Too bad it's my job if
these industrial esps, wannabe terrorists or whatever they are, produce one
of these on their own.

The dust from the Hummer getting thicker. I know we are close. Doors off
the Bronco so it's all getting coated. The other Hummers somewhere back
there in smoking ruins. Nice bit of controlled blast. No one hurt, just
enough to disable every other vehicle capable of chasing these
sons-a-bitches into the hills. Guess they didn't plan on anyone else at
this party.

A plink of sound. I would have heard the bullet go by if the engine was
quieter. More bullets. Son of a BITCH... this is new paint! These f-rs
are gong to PAY. Climbing now. The road up in the junipers and Ponderosas
now. Getting narrower. Good for me. The ponderous Hummer is a
hell of a lot wider and starting to slow.

The road is a faint two track nearly vertical up the wall of the road cut.
Right off this road we are hurtling along. How many times have I climbed it
for sport? The vantage it offers over the winding road will be ideal. Hit
the brakes as I dive left....

oh SH*!

M-erf-s must have clipped a brakeline. No brakes, I launch at speed
onto the trail. Hit hard, feeling the suspension cycle and hit the bump
stops. This ain't no desert racer, dammit... the momentum hurtles the
Bronco up trail, as I hurriedly shift down and try to prepare for the set up
of the ascent. Tires, clutch and engine taking the brunt of the immediate
change in rpm and torque. The 351 screaming as it nears that nasty red line
on the tach. Rock, dirt and needles flying all around me as I climb. Big
boulder to the right, I bank off it and bounce over three smaller ones mid
trail. I hear, as well as feel, scrape and collision as I continue to climb
to the summit. Last twitch of the wheel to avoid a chunk of granite the size
of a Volkswagen. As the Bronco eases over the summit, the dust covered
Hummer appears three quarters of a mile away as it follows the road at the
base of the ridge. The idling chopper in a small meadow, waiting for the
delivery. I leap out of the Bronco and reach for the carbon fiber case in
the back.

They never got to see this surprise. This was the bonus we didn't get to
present for approval. Flick open the case and the small embedded LCD screen
flickers to life. The shoulder mounted rocket, small and light. The
targeting laser lines up with the rocket. Index finger reaching for the
button on the far side of the tube to lock in on the chopper. The sun
throws a bad reflection off the pond halfway down the hill on front of me.
DAMMIT. I jump up and reposition myself. They have loaded the delivery
missile by this time and the chopper starts spooling up. Clicking again to
reacquire, the chopper is in my site. Hit the trigger and the small launch
charge pops the projectile clear before the computer takes over and fires
the rocket. I still love this part. Only I never get to launch at live
targets. The thin line of tracer smoke drawing toward the target as I
notice the moving green object at the edge of my peripheral vision. The
Bronco! Brakes gone and out of gear is rolling downhill! Toward the pond!
Oh S*T! My Bronco has NEVER been able to float!

BASTARDS. The word fills my head as the chopper evaporates.

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Post by Doyle » Tue Feb 20, 2007 2:30 pm

Man, this is some good stuff.
73 Bronco Ranger, 302, 3 speed floor shift, twin-sticked Dana 20, disk conversion (78 knuckles, caliper brackets, T-bird calipers), Power brake conversion, Warflares (extreme install) 12.50 x 35 Mudkings on 10 x 15s, 2" x 6" box tube rockers, home built bumpers.

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Post by Doyle » Sun Mar 04, 2007 7:32 pm

When's the next chapter coming????
73 Bronco Ranger, 302, 3 speed floor shift, twin-sticked Dana 20, disk conversion (78 knuckles, caliper brackets, T-bird calipers), Power brake conversion, Warflares (extreme install) 12.50 x 35 Mudkings on 10 x 15s, 2" x 6" box tube rockers, home built bumpers.

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