Back to the Future (3/10) Movie CLIP - Back in Time (1985) HD

Electric Arctic

   
   "Electric Arctic"
   
   "Boy, better stay away from that burning bush; you know your girlfriend has lit her fire--an no blasphemy here boy--I got me a Bible given by 'em Gideons."
   Lucas didn't know whether to take the advice or not, after all--Grandpa was casually crackers.  He slipped on a banana peel during an angst-driven adolescence, finding humor in a Basal Ganglia injury, which resulted in better motor function; however, he was channeling all the best live-action from HEE HAW, originally broadcast from 69 to 70, and he adored Hunt's ketchup.    
   On the flip side, there was always the Arctic, knowing his ancestors were constantly frigid, like a sister's set of ivory hands, always frosty in feel; plus, the wildlife.  Even above the treeline; thus, life does exist without plant life, as long as there's water and an arctic hare to hunt.
   Lucas packed his things.  Got all Han Solo, remembering a blaster trumps hokey religions and archaic weapons; however, never know when a Shinobi will show up.  He just kept telling himself truck driver mantras:  "It's all in the reflexes."  And now cars drive themselves.  But a man can drive and eat spicy beef jerky at the same time.  Go figure.  
   Lucas ventured to an allegorical Hoth.  

Montana Chosen

  
   "Montana Chosen"
   
   Robin waved back her cascade of a long, silky mane--almost blue-black, and with her amber eyes to match, such a chosen child of the NORTHWEST.  She was working on her 1968 Camaro with the small block, possibly a simple 305 and four-barrel--of course, two tail exhaust, and white-letter tires that preached the word:  GOODYEAR.
   Decker was cycling his way on smaller tires, opening up the Suzuki to around 80 mph, and there wasn't really a speed limit in this area of expansive freedom--so his throttle was cranked, burning the gas to better make swift entrance onto Robin's property, where an embrace of long lost cousins would not merely culminate, yet ignite the family pool that they were so closely linked by.  What does the Southern Man say:  "I'm so southern, I'm related to myself."
   It was more innocent and pure serendipity for these two, one diving into her own genealogy; next, contacting the son of a lady, her genetic relative, way back down yonder line, when the Five Tribes mingled kindly, some, with Pennsylvania folk from Europe.
   It's amazing what research can do, and to know that someone armed with intrinsic love for you would guard your shanty at night, when many a grizzly's curiosity drove him to devour trash cans full of garbage, and even go indoors sometimes, as if knowing what yummy a fridge contained; as a result, it was comforting to know that a brotherly soul might hold a conversation with her, and better yet--have her back in defensive fashion.
   Decker pulled upon her property, anchoring the motorcycle on the Earth's shifting foundation   

Harley Davidson Marlboro Man Intro

Private Gum

  
   "Private Gum"
   
   It wasn't the layers that mattered to Decker, a German-lathered lad with champagne-blonde feathers and arctic blue eyes gone electric; still, the time had come to venture into the NORTHWEST of it all, meet radical Robin, smeared in the stain of a rainbow's multi-hued promise, the somewhat Chippewa Cree lass that didn't reside in the Rocky Mountain Reservation, but had a shimmering shanty in The Last Great Place's rural fields of living, where a single action .44 Magnum was needed by women to shoot a Brown Bear if attacked during an innocent squat in the woods, better than flushing it into God who knows where, like the chicken in some southern rivers--it has all been mentioned before, and the beauty of Free Lands there (WESTERN), lit beyond comprehension of those not being Blake's mental traveler, for there resides the royalty of lollygag with luminous purpose, remembering that time is relative, and the days are more romantically free in such a magical land of instinct, them animal spirits commanding the day, and yet even a walk in the heavens for an approaching German immigrant intent on the purpose of a retro-active life of many a lasso, and yet he preferred the motorcycle over the horse.
   So, piloting his GN 250, a 1980's model of a tough, little Suzuki, armed with Bruce Lee intensity; plus, the style of Cary Grant in a tuxedo--they say:  "No man looked suaver in such sophisticated fashion."  But some like Steve McQueen.  Never can tell.  

Cowboys and Indians

   
   "Cowboys and Indians"
   
   A guy told me:  "Bon Jovi is no cowboy--dude is from New Jersey."  I always kinda liked him; moreover, adored the Indians, especially Apache Chief on SUPERFRIENDS.  The American Indian is forgotten, and he possesses some of the best cures.  More than most of us, he and she deserve reverence.  Their empirical accounts of wildlife transcends ALL in the Americas; plus, they have great hair and don't have furry wolfman beards.  Always keep some turquoise around, as they most recently have instructed, and wisely.
   Movies now are fashioned in the direction of bio-mechanical things, and the Amazon robot or man can enter your house upon deliveries.  What the hell happened to Fonzie?  Was all this shit going on when he flew through the airwaves?
   Maybe the 1950's were just a bogus illusion, and people were actually nasty.  Yet power seemed controlled then, as it is with the heavenly hue of burgundy.  
   Country Music needs more COUNTRY.  More rednecks, not in party dresses and heels, but cut-offs and cowboy boots with hats and rhinestones--in my opinion.
   And as for rock and roll in the 1980's--I always knew the news was Bravo Sierra, or that reporters are mostly lazy drunks, yet 80's rock proved trustworthy, in some cases.
   And without Johnny Carson--there is no late night anymore.  So some say.  Me too.  

Donna Summer - She Works hard (For The Money) + Lyrics