Midnight. The Strip. West Hollywood. Johnny Lizard nods towards a red neon sign, above an open doorway. It sparked “Ravens Tattoo Works.” Johnny was up for getting an American eagle. I took the Native American. It sounded like we were ordering a couple of pizzas. Below the buzzing of the needle, there was talk about an old abandoned mine in Nevada. We headed back down the Strip, the blue ink on our arms still wet. The first bar we saw drew us in, and opened up a slate. The stories got taller as the drinks got shorter. The morning after. Johnny decided to take a look at the abandoned mine, so we hopped into the Pick-Up took Highway 15. Hit Thunder Road. Johnny Lizard at the wheel, crashed into paradise you could hear those tyres squeal. Johnny pushed the old Chevy hard. We came in from the west with the sun in our eyes. He’d found the track that led to the mine. The entrance had been boarded up. Red paint dripped ……… ‘no trespassing danger keep out’. Johnny had told me many times, ‘it was you to me who taught, anything’s legal as long as you don’t get caught.’