Savage Dawn

I saw SAVAGE DAWN -- for the first, and, sadly, last time -- when I was 14 years old (I'm 32 now); my cousin and I rented it on tape from Southern Star (a cool, now-defunct video store that featured movie rentals and, in the back, a couple of pool tables, a pinball machine, a couple of arcade games, a jukebox, and some tough-looking, pool-playing locals (who were not unlike the bikers in the film) -- and it was a place that turned a blind eye when a horny, gore-obsessed teenager wanted to rent an R-rated picture). SAVAGE DAWN was cheaply made (which was one of the things I liked about), featured lots of guys on motorcycles (another thing I was crazy about) and one bike in particular -- a cool-looking, silver-gray Suzuki GSP1000. I remember a fantastically gory scene -- maybe it wasn't visually gross, but in my mind it was -- where a guy is (taken off his motorcycle, I believe, and) impaled on the teeth of a huge hay-rake. I recall a couple of seedy scenes that really warmed my pubescent loins: (1) where two slutty-looking gals approach a guardhouse (to a trashed-out, post-apocalyptic fenced-in compound) and commence to entertain the guards with very vulgar, yet sexy, forms of distraction; and (2) where the wayward (maybe alcoholic) priest (was this Henriksen?) succumbs to the beautiful, naked upturned breasts of a young temptress. Sadly, I loved it all!