| listing and airdates | BMEG | season by season |
"ROCK & RIDE!"
Written By: Eve Forward, Bob Forward,
Tom Tataranowicz, and Rick Ungar (Damn, that's a bunch of writers for one episode!)
Produced By: Tom Tataranowicz
Directed By: Tom Tataranowicz
Executive Producer: Rick Ungar
INTRODUCTORY SUMMARY NOTE
As you're probably well aware, "Rock and Ride!" is the very first episode of "Biker Mice from Mars" (that's why it's listed first in this guide, obviously). It does all the things a good pilot should do, introducing the main characters, the villains, the locale, and the major plot lines. Not only that, but it's entertaining. What more can you ask for?
EPISODE SYNOPSIS
In space, no one can hear you scream. They can’t hear you cry, whimper, or shout, "F--k you!" when their ship cuts you off, either. But all that’s besides the point. Our story begins in the dark, bleak reaches of space between Earth and Mars. A sleek red and silver spaceship, bearing more than a casual resemblance to a motorcycle (known as a Cyclodrone Thunderpipe, we will discover) slices through the blackness like a knife. Inside the ship are our three heroes, Throttle, Vinnie, and Modo, the Chipmunks. No, wait! I mean, the Biker Mice from Mars! The three of them are kicking back and enjoying themselves—let's face it, there isn't much else to do when you're flying through space. It's either sit around and amuse yourself, or cryogenic sleep, and we all know how much fun that is.
The three of them are seated at the front of the ship, with controls suspiciously similar to the handlebars of motorcycles before them. But even though all three mice have these controls, Throttle, the tan-furred, bespectacled, thoughtful, and somber leader of the trio, is apparently the only one driving the ship. He's concentrating heavily on his task when when white-furred egomaniac Vinnie (whose most striking feature is the metal half-mask covering the right side of his face), points to an overhead video monitor and "Hey, Throttle! Watch me blow past that snork from Saturn!"
The leader of the mice looks up briefly and watches his bandoleer-ed bro shoot past one of the racers on the tape, then returns to the task at hand. Not that Vinnie notices. He's so wrapped up in marveling over this accomplishment that he's oblivious to the fact that Throttle is no longer paying attention.
"Yep, that's me! I’m the baddest motorcycle mamma-jammer in the universe!" Vinnie declares proudly, slapping Throttle on the back. Unfortunately, he does it so hard that it knocks the older mouse clean out of his seat.
"Modest, too," Throttle comments from the floor, his glasses pushed halfway up his face.
Modo, the kind-hearted gray-furred lug of the team (who, I will add for the sake of clarifying his description, has a patch on his right eye, in addition to another striking physical feature I'll mention in a minute), casually plucks a soda from the small crankcase-style cooler in front of his seat and tears the top of with his bionic right hand.
"Now this is livin’," he proclaims, guzzling the soda. "Nothin’ to do but rockin' and rollin’ and racin’ through the cosmos!"
Burp.
Now, this next line is obviously a set-up. If Modo hadn’t said it, ten-to-one says nothing would’ve happened. The mice would have just continue on their way to wherever they were going with no difficulties whatsoever.
But he says it anyway.
"We got absolutely no--"
BAM!
The force of a sudden blast seemingly from nowhere knocks the mice from their seats and land on top of each other on the floor (and there is absolutely no sexual subtext to the way they land at all).
"--problems?" Modo asks, voice wavering slightly.
Outside the Mice’s ship, we see the cause of the explosion as it passes ominously over Earth, stealthily as a shark--a huge, strangely fish-like purple ship, which is obviously evil. Come on! You can tell just by looking at it!. Evil, evil, evil.
Inside, a frighteningly obese fish-like alien with stench waves rolling off his body (in a skintight purple spandex number which should be illegal for him to wear given his incredible girth) sits listening to the report of another alien fish, who says that the ship they just fired on is, "...a Cyclodrone Thunderpipe, used only by the Cave Mouse population of Mars."
"Impossible!" the first one growls, incredulous. "Weren’t all Martian mice destroyed during the Plutarkian occupation of Mars? Hmm. I wonder…." He pauses a moment, then shouts, "Gunner! Blow that ship to the seven scattered galaxies! NOW!"
(And there’s not any sexual subtext in that, either.)
Inside their own ship, the Biker Mice gaze up at the aqueous aggressor through a skylight.
"Somebody out there doesn’t like us," Throttle says, arms crossed over his chest.
"Yeah, those ‘somebodies’ look alot like Plutarkians!" Modo grumbles. "Ah can almost smell ‘em from here!"
"Looks like we’ve crossed with one of their destroyers," Vinnie adds, not looking at all upset by the possibility. If anything, he looks extremely excited (we will discover this is pretty much standard operating procedure for Vinnie).
"Vape ‘em!" Throttle calls out (showing his intrinsic flair for leadership).
Vinnie pats the barrel of a large bazooka beside him and asks with a devilish grin, "Whaddaya say we fry the fins off those fish-faces?!"
"Do it!" Throttle commands.
"One fish-face barbecue coming up!" Vinnie crows gleefully.
He races to the side of the ship, and leans out a small side door (puzzling science buffs to no end, as he should immediately be crushed by space’s vacuum. But Hell, Vinnie's such an enjoyable character that I'm just gonna let it slide this time). He places a foot against the side of the door, then lines up his shot carefully. But just before he gets a chance to fire, a pair of lasers streak through space and knock the gun out of his hands.
"Aw, man!" Vinnie grouses. He leaps back into the ship, where his bros are already back at the controls.
"Vincent, it works better if you shoot before the weapon flies out the door," Throttle chides him.
Chagrinned, Vinnie replies, "Yeah, well, um....timing is everything." The white-furred mouse walks over to his seat as the ship begins a sharp dive.
"So what’re we gonna do?" Modo asks.
"That’s easy," Throttle replies. "We’re goin’ down!"
The Earth's atmosphere superheats the ship's exterior, turning it into a glowing comet as it careens toward the blue planet below.
Throttle tries desperately to ease the ship’s sharp descent as it begins shaking violently. However, as the ship lurches forward, the controls break off in his hands. The frustrated mouse looks at them for a minute, then tosses them over his shoulder and sighs, "I knew I should’ve gone for the power-steering!"
Another jolt rocks the ship.
"Whoah! Imminent destruction!" Vinnie shouts as he's pitched forward in his seat. "What a rush!"
Can you say "adrenaline junkie," boys and girls?
"Modo! Get 'em ready to eject!" Throttle shouts.
The gray-furred mouse pushes a button on his console. The three bikers turn and look behind them as various whirring sounds and alarms sound behind a door leading further back into their ship. Slowly, the door opens. The Biker Mice stand in it, their helmets in hand, and gaze at something in this large, airy storage room, something we can't see because of the camera angle. As the three of them pause there, dramatically backlit (of course!), Throttle says the most famous lines in the entire series.
"Guys, lemme tell you something. In this wild and woolly universe of ours, there are only three things you can count on: your brains—"
He taps his forehead, then puts his arms around Modo and Vinnie.
"—your bros—"
Suddenly, the three mice jump onto their motorcycles—the mysterious objects Throttle told Modo to get ready to eject. They're powerful-looking vehicles, throbbing with raw energy, fantastically alien in both design and in origin.
"—and your bike!"
They throw their helmets on quickly, palming on shields that materialize over their faces seemingly from nothing. The ship, meanwhile, continues to go down, headed straight through the city of Chicago, toward a landmark that any citizen of the Windy City would recognize: Quigley Field.
At said field, it's just another typical night of Nubs baseball. The stands are packed to capacity, and a batter roughly the size of a small oak tree steps into the batter's box. The events are narrated by an announcer gazing down at the game through binoculars.
"And as Chicago takes the field—"
Suddenly, he spots something in the sky.
"Holey Toldeo! What in blazes is that?!?" he shouts.
The bored fans look up, and are surprised to something other than the home team going down in flames. The crowd's apathy abruptly gives way to excitement as the Biker Mice’s ship streaks across the heavens right above them. It crashes into the field’s Scoreboard (this is a motif that will be repeated FREQUENTLY throughout the series, especially when Modo's nephew Rimfire is involved, but I digress...). With a shout of their signature battle cry—"Let’s Rock—AND RIDE!"—the Biker Mice leap out on their bikes and land in the outfield. Their ship errupts into a fireworks-like display, and the crowd at Quigley goes wild. This is better entertainment than they’ve had from any Chicago sports team in YEARS (except of course for the Bulls)!
"Nice reception," Vinnie chuckles as he waves to the roaring fans. "Who told them we were coming?"
"Rope it in, Vinnie," Throttle says quickly. He then turns to the crowd and shouts, "We didn’t mean to cause any trouble, citizens!"
Since the crash of an alien spaceship into a major Chicago landmark is bound to draw attention—this isn't New Mexico, after all—Throttle quickly realizes that the three of them need to vacate the field pronto.
"Okay, boys, kick it!" he cries.
The mice pop three simultaneous wheelies, and, tires squealing, race up the staircases of the stadium and into the concourse. While Throttle and Modo apparently make through unimpeded (as we'll see in a few minutes), Vinnie comes across a young man with a crowbar threatening to shove it up a hot dog vendor’s nose if he doesn’t give him all his money. Naturally, Vinnie, who has never made a habit out of keeping his nose out of other people’s business, jumps in to save the day. He races past the delinquent, swats the crowbar out of his hand, and catches it in mid-air.
The white-furred mouse pulls to a stop.
"Hey, sweetheart," he coos, twirling the crowbar on two fingers, "you didn’t really plan on hurting anyone with this thing, were you?"
"N-no, sir!" the would-be thief stutters, terrified.
"Good! Then, if you don’t mind—"
Vinnie tosses the crowbar at the young human. It hurtles toward him, still spinning. A second before the boy's face is violently remade, Vinnie zaps it with his bike's lasers. It's atomized in midair, turning to dust as it falls to the ground.
"Bingo!" Vinnie declares.
The horrified thief jumps to his feet, stammering, "I—I gotta go now! I think I hear my mom calling me!"
He races off in the other direction.
"Nice trick, eh, citizen?" Vinnie asks, riding over to where the grateful hot dog vendor is getting to his feet.
"Thanks, mister," he replies. The man pulls one of his wares from the tray he carries, and offers it to Vinnie, saying, "Here, have a dog."
Vinnie takes the meaty tribute and eyes it curiously.
"'Dog,' eh? I've heard of these! I'll check it out!"
The mouse makes a u-turn in the hall and rides away. But before the vendor even has time to wipe his brow or consider what just happened, Vinnie reappears, still clutching the hot dog in his hand.
"Pardon me. Have you any—Grey Poupon?"
The vendor hands Vinnie a bottle of mustard, which the mouse squirts all over his hot dog. Vinnie tosses it back to him and rides off, laughing.
Throttle and Modo's journeys, meanwhile, have brought them to the outermost edge of the stadium, high in the air. Far below them is the parking lot. There is no staircase or friendly ramp leading down to it.
"You see any way offa here?" Modo asks.
"The usual," Throttle replies. "Let's roll!"
The two mice leap their bikes off the building. They hit the ground with no trouble whatsoever, and are quickly reunited with Vinnie, who had already found his own way down (no doubt, it was the same method his bros employed). The three of them begin riding through the torn-up streets which surround Quigley, and into a ravaged Chicago. Hulks of once-grand buildings stare out at the mice like the gape-toothed face of an asylum inmate as they ride for miles on the ruined roads of the city.
Abruptly, after hours of riding, Throttle pulls to a stop.
"Hold 'em up," he says.
He and his bros pull to a stop.
"Listen to this."
Throttle revs his bike’s engine. After running smoothly for a moment, it begins to rattle and shake in a most disturbing manner.
"Busted gyro," the mouse curses (in the book adaptation of this episode, he guesses that Earth’s gravity "stressed it to the breaking point." Sounds plausible to me).
"No sweat, sweetheart!" Vinnie laughs. "We find us a cycle parts shop and I’ll have it fixed pronto!"
"Ah don't know," Modo says uncertainly. "We've been on this street for miles, and ah ain't seen a repair pit yet!"
"Keep looking, Modo," Throttle advises. He sighs, gazing at the ruins around them. "Y’know, there’s something strangely familiar about this place, and it’s not exactly a happy memory. I mean, check it out! Nothin’ but miles of deep craters and crumbling buildings!"
The landscape bears out the mouse's words. The further they move into the city, they rougher looking it gets. No building in the immediate area is intact. Few of them are more than a single story tall. Most of them are completely in ruins, with only a few walls left standing, and even those are filled with huge cracks. Debris is scattered all over. Add in the somber brown night sky, and the scene becomes darkly ominous—and to the mice, it is a dark reminder of their past.
"Yeah, but look on the bright side!" Vinnie interrupts cheerfully.
"What 'bright side'?" Throttle asks sarcastically.
"That bright side!" the white-furred mouse shouts, pointing to a small garage within about a hundred feet of them. Over it hangs a sign reading
Below the sign is another, this one shaped like a motorcycle with wings off to either side. This offers some hope that inside, there will be someone with ample supplies to get Throttle's bike back up to speed.
"I'll check it out," Vinnie declares.
But all is not harmonious inside the Last Chance Garage (believe me, it rarely is). The lovely proprietress, Charlene "Charley" Davidson, is having it out with an oil-dripping dimwit named Greasepit, who is trying to acquire the property for his mysterious boss. He looms over the much smaller mechanic menacingly, trying to threaten her out, but she defiantly stands her ground.
"Tell your slimy boss that I don’t care how much money he has," Charley snarls, waving a wrench at the goon. "The Last Chance Garage is mine, and it’s not for sale!"
She shoves the wrench at his chest, meaning to spook him. Greasepit is unimpressed, and worse, her strike splatters her with his greasy drippings.
"Youse is not bein’ wise, lady," Greasepit warns as the disgusted mechanic pulls out a rag and tries to clean the mess off her shirt before it stains. "Mister Limburger wants this land, and what Lawrence Limburger wants, Lawrence Limburger gets!"
The slippery buffoon lunges at the mechanic, who easily evades his clumsy attack. She jumps over her car-lift, which the less-agile Greasepit slams into.
"Listen, you over-grown grease monkey!" she shouts, waving the wrench again. "You got ten seconds to vacate this place, or I'm gonna vacate your face!"
Greasepit laughs fearlessly.
"Oooh, I'm shakin', lady!" he chuckles. "See me shakin'?"
And he does just that, showering the immediate area—-not to mention Charley—-with a fine rain of greasy droplets.
"Uggh!" the mechanic groans, dropping the wrench. "Why don’t you just ooze off and tell your slimy boss that he can just—"
She reaches over to the car lift's controls and jerks the raise lever up.
"—shove it!"
Instantly, the car lift shoots up. Greasepit is caught off-guard (this, we will discover, is almost as hard as breathing), and is drug upward with it. The platform crushes him tight against the ceiling. Oil begins dripping down. Charley playfully kicks a wheeled drip pan beneath the lift to catch it.
"What the heck?" she laughs. "My lift needed a grease-job anyway!"
"Youse is startin' to annoy me! Big time!" Greasepit growls.
The goon begins kicking the lift pole, denting it, and manages to push himself far enough down so that he's no longer pressed between the lift itself and the ceiling. Too late, Charley realizes that her adversary isn't so easily defeated (not in this episode, anyway, although it gets progressively easier as the series goes on). She narrowly avoids being hit by two huge hunks of metal Greasepit tears off of the lift, but slips in one of the puddles he's left on the floor. The mechanic falls to the ground, weaponless and at the mercy of the goon.
Greasepit grins and produces a contract and pen.
"Maybe now you’ll see Mister. Limburger’s generous offer in a new light."
"Say there, citizen—-why don’t you leave the lady alone?" a voice asks from the doorway.
Stunned, Greasepit and Charley look up from their little drama to find out who the interloper is. There, of course, is Vinnie, leaning cockily against the wall.
"And who’s gonna make me, wrench-face?" the outraged Greasepit shouts.
" ‘Who’s gonna make me'?" Vinnie asks, chuckling.
He suddenly becomes deadly serious.
" ‘Who’s gonna make me’ is my middle name! I’m gonna make ya!"
As Charley backs away carefully, Vinnie pulls one of the red flares from his bandoleers. It expands to twice its size in his hand (and there’s absolutely no sexual subtext there, either), and the mouse quickly strikes it hard against his leg. The flare bursts into bright, sparkling flames, like a small, hand-held firework.
Vinnie throws the flare at a rope hanging from Charley’s ceiling. The place where it strikes is immediately burnt to a crisp, and the rope quickly snaps in half. The loose hank swings down into Vinnie’s waiting hand. He pulls back, then swings Tarzan-style at Greasepit. As Vinnie lets go of the rope, he coils his fist and prepares to punch the goon into next week, which will simultaneously save the lovely mechanic from certain doom and better his chances of scoring with her later.
Oh, come on. You know that's what he's thinking.
UNFORTUNATELY for our white-furred egomaniac, none of that comes to pass. Vinnie slips on a puddle of grease (hmmm, maybe this is a sign that he and Charley are meant to be), falls flat on his ass, and skids over to the opposite wall on his posterior. He slams into it painfully. When the mouse opens his eyes, Greasepit is looming over him.
"Aw, what’s the matter? The wittle bitty baby biker hurt himself?" he asks in a mocking tone. "Get up and fight, you loser! What are ya, a man or a mouse?"
Well, Throttle and Modo must have been reading the episode's script while waiting for their bro, because they appear perfectly on cue, breaking into the garage through one of Charley’s windows (the Biker Mice eschew doors in the same way that they eschew shirts, and if you don’t know what eschew means, get a dictionary, for cripes sake!). They land in front of Greasepit, who can only gawk in surprise.
The two of them remove their helmets, revealing the answer very clearly.
"Mouse," Modo replies firmly.
"You got a problem with that?" Throttle asks.
Still surprised by all this, Greasepit turns to Charley and remarks, "This is one crummy place you got here--it’s crawlin’ with rats!"
Modo instantly becomes enraged. His single eye begins to glow bright red as he gnashes his teeth and growls, "My momma didn’t raise no stinkin’ rat! Understand?!?!?"
"It’s tail-whippin’ time!" Throttle shouts.
"Let's take this wrench-head down!" Modo shouts, raising his bionic right arm. Light glints off his knuckles as a small cannon rises up out of his lower arm.
Throttle turns around quickly, swinging his hips around and whipping his tail around an unsuspecting Greasepit’s ankles. That holds the goon in place long enough for Modo to use his arm cannon to blast a wall-mounted rack holding a row of tires above the goon. They fall off one by one, all of them landing on Greasepit, pinning his arms and legs. Soon, he's completely immobilized, looking like a giant pack of greasy black Lifesavers.
Abruptly, Throttle pulls his tail free, spinning Greasepit like a top. The goon tumbles to the ground and rolls across the floor to where Vinnie is now standing. The white-furred mouse leans against the wall and puts one foot against the tire-covered goon.
"Time to roll, sweetheart!" he shouts, kicking Greasepit out the door.
"Mister Limburger ain't gonna like thiiiiiiiiis!" he howls as he disappears into the dark city streets. After a moment, we hear him crash into a trashcan, getting an angry reaction from a nearby alley cat.
With the immediate threat taken care of, the mice relax a little. Vinnie props a hand on the wall and wipes the grease off his boots.
"Talk about your slippery customers," he comments as Modo walks up.
The gray-furred mouse grins and adds wryly, "Yeah. They could call him the ‘Duke of Oil’."
The two mice then proceed to butcher "Duke of Earl," replacing "Earl" with "oil." One thing we find throughout the series, beginning in this episode, is that the Biker Mice sing terribly, and they sing terribly a lot.
Throttle claps his hands over his ears (no mean feat--look at the size of those things!) and shouts to get his bros' attention.
"Guys! You're off-key!" he complains.
Without missing a beat, Vinnie and Modo begin singing, "What would you do if we sang out of tune?("A Little Help from My Friends", better known as the theme from "The Wonder Years")?"
Throttle shakes his head, mumbling, "I give up." He turns to Charley and asks, "You okay, ma'am?"
The mechanic, however, is understandably unnerved by the night's events. First it's a big muscle-bound goon dripping grease, then giant fuzzy aliens show up in her garage, oy! Who wouldn't be a little freaked out?
"Don't you come any closer, you—you—!" she shouts, holding up a large wrench defensively (given how well it worked against Greasepit, I think it's about time the lady found a different strategy for dealing with unwanted intruders).
"Whoah, whoah, hey, don't break a nail!" Throttle snaps. "We just came in to get my bike fixed!"
"Yeah, we're the good guys!" Modo agrees.
"Talk about no appreciation!" Vinnie gripes, pulling his helmet off (after nearly getting his ass kicked trying to save the mechanic, his irritation with her attitude is most definitely warranted).
Charley lowers her guard slightly.
"I don’t believe this," she murmurs. "I’ve just been saved by a bunch of giant.... gerbils?"
"Mice, ma’am, we’re mice," Throttle corrects.
"Mice…?"
"You were expecting turtles, maybe?" Modo asks, grinning.
"Mice," the mechanic mutters, in a tone that's almost sarcastic. "With antennas…"
She reaches out and touches one of the twin red stalks atop Vinnie's head.
"…and biker clothes…and motorcycles…and—"
Vinnie flexes and interrupts, "Don’t forget your basic studly bod."
"I’ve seen better," Charley comments, turning away.
"Maybe," Vinnie concedes proudly, "but not with this much charm."
Despite what she sees, Charley is still unable to believe it (if nothing else, one has to wonder how she reconciles these three tall, buff extraterrestrial mice with the typical terran view of aliens as short, spindly, hairless, gray humanoids).
"Where on Earth did you guys come from?" she demands.
"Mars," Modo replies.
"Mars?!" Charley shouts.
"Mars," Throttle agrees.
"Mars?!?!?" she shouts again.
"Is there an echo in here?" Vinnie asks, putting a hand to his ear.
"Ah don't think she likes our answers," Modo says.
"Mars," the mechanic sneers. "Right. I don't believe this! I think you guys better explain yourselves."
Throttle straightens up, sighs, and faces Charley. Being the leader and the group's unofficial spokes-mouse, it's his job to handle any and all exposition that should come up during the course of an adventure.
"Okay, look, it's a long story," he begins. "You see, our planet was invaded by a race of smelly stink-faces called Plutarkians. Here, I’ll show you."
The mouse leans toward Charley, and abruptly, both of his antennae begin glowing bright red. Charley steps back nervously, wide-eyed and fearful. Still, she submits, allowing Throttle's antenna to brush against her forehead. Slowly, her eyes close…
…just as her mind's eye opens. The mechanic is suddenly immersed in what she quickly realizes are Throttle's own memories, projected from his mind to hers through his antennae. There, against a blue sea of stars, she sees an ugly black planet surrounded by several rings of dark gray smoke—the planet Plutark, home of the Plutarkians.
Suddenly, Throttle's voice breaks in.
"Now, the Plutarkians wanted our land, right? Seems they wasted all their own natural resources so they go around strip-mining the cosmos."
The image of the dark little planet is replaced slowly by that of a much brighter, bigger one—-Mars, the mice's home planet. Its sky is a bright ruby red, stretching over land that is slightly more orange because of its high iron content.
As the view zooms in on the planet, Charley finds herself overlooking a large, sprawling city. Clusters of tall buildings spread across a huge parcel of land, separated by canals, lakes, and, at the edge of the city, craters.
"So they blew up your planet?" the mechanic asks curiously.
"Nah, they bought up our planet," Modo corrects. "Tore the place apart and dug up the land to ship back to Plutark." His voice carries a clear note of anger.
Now Charley finally sees the Plutarkians themselves—large, blue-skinned fish-like aliens, with apple-shaped bodies (hopefully, just experiencing these memories second hand isn't exposing her to their extreme stench). They stand next to a large piece of excavation equipment. Its metal teeth bore down into the rusty soil and break the land apart, while other machines rip boulders from the ground and cart them away.
Lasers suddenly light up the scene. Charley quickly discovers that the Plutarkians did not go about their business unmolested, for suddenly, a group of Martian mice appears on the horizon, wielding heavy weaponry against the fish. Throttle, Vinnie, and Modo head up the troops, but it's clear that their battle is a losing one. The Plutarkians quickly launch a counterattack, and the mice begin dying like flies.
"Right," Throttle continues. "Well, the mice population fought back, but most of us were wiped out."
Smoke fills the scene, and soon, all Charley sees of where the city once was is a cluster of craters. At this point, Throttle withdraws his antennae from Charley, and the scene returns to normal.
The story is not quite finished yet, however. Throttle points to his bros.
"Modo here gave an arm to the 'cause," he says somberly.
The gray-furred mouse looks up briefly from filing the fingertips of his right hand to inspect his work. His hand gleams slightly in the light.
"And Vinnie got half his face taken off," Throttle adds. "That’s why he wears the mask." (Notice that Throttle does not mention the fact that he too was grievously injured during the Plutarkian War—-he was blinded in the same battle in which his bros were so terribly injured. But none of that is actually brought to light before the third-to-last episode in the series ("Once Upon a Time on Mars Part One"), so this is hindsight).
"Yeah," Vinnie agrees casually from where he stands, resting against the garage door. "But that’s okay, because what’s left is definitely grade-A mouse material."
"In your dreams, pal!" Charley retorts.
Vinnie glares at her.
Charley walks over to the garage door's opener.
"The way you guys describe what these, uh…Plutarkians did to your planet, I think you ought to check something out."
Charley hits the switch, and one of her doors begins to rise. Slowly, it reveals the ugly, torn-up landscape outside that the mice had seen on their way in. Nothing unusual there. What catches their attention is the equipment that is even at that very moment ripping up the city—-the very same equipment seen in Throttle's memories of the Plutarkian invasion.
"From the looks of things, I’d say they’re here." (with a "Poltergeist-like emphasis on the last line.)
Of course, where he then puts those gloves gives the viewer pause, because the first thing Limburger does when we see him is reach into a large bowl of worms on his desk. This isn't so bad in and of itself, but then he puts the worms in his mouth and eats them. And enjoys them. This is one of the early hints that there might be more to Limburger than meets the eye.
He rises to his feet and looks out one of his office's large windows, which feature an impressive view of the equally impressive city below.
"Ah, Chicago," Limburger coos, gazing at the metropolis below. "Soon, all your precious soil will be mine. Then New York, Paris, Hamburg, Detroit—-"
He pauses, unaware that Greasepit, just behind him, is poking around the dish on his desk containing the worms.
"Well, maybe not Detroit," he admits finally. "Those motor-city maniacs are a little too crazy for me. But one day—-"
The sound of something breaking behind him catches Limburger's ear. He turns and sees Greasepit kneeling on the floor beside the shattered remains of the bowl that a moment ago had been on his desk.
"Duh, sorry boss!" the goon shouts.
"Greasepit, dear boy?" the man says gently, putting an understanding hand on his head.
"Yeah, boss?" Greasepit asks, looking up.
"YOU'RE DRIPPING ON MY CARPET!" Limburger screams. Waves of stench blast from his mouth, so intense that Greasepit is nearly knocked out by the fumes. He falls to the ground, but gets up quickly.
"Uh, sorry, boss."
Greasepit promptly hops into a wastecan to catch his drippings—a little too late, as the carpet is already covered in his greasy puddles.
"Just try and get good help these days…" Limburger sighs. He shakes his head, then is all business. He strolls over to the window once again and gazes out.
"Now, as I recall, I sent you to purchase the Last Chance Garage. Is this correct?" he asks his employee in a very civil voice—a voice that has a decidedly acidic undertone.
"Yes, boss," Greasepit agrees.
"And I believe you were then to demolish it?"
"That's right, boss."
"THEN WHY IS IT STILL STANDING?!?"
"It wasn't my fault, boss! Honest!" the goon cries (it’s never anybody’s fault these days—it’s always their parents’ fault). "You see, there were these big mice—"
"Mice?" Limburger interrupts. He walks over to where Greasepit is standing and stares him right in the eye. Limburger wields a cane in his hand, one he holds up threateningly, as if to say, "Give me the right answer, or I'll stuff this up your nose."
"On motorcycles?" the businessman inquires.
"Yeah," Greasepit agrees, surprised to know that his boss knew that detail (this is another piece of info that is in conflict with later episodes—see "Once Upon a Time On Mars Part One", and you'll understand why Greasepit should not have been surprised by the notion of giant mice on motorcycles).
Limburger strikes the wall just above Greasepit's head with his cane.
"NOT AGAIN!" he bellows.
Once again, the force of Limburger's shout is enough to knock Greasepit down. When he hits the ground, grease splashes up and onto his boss. A disgusted Limburger wipes the spot from his suit and grumbles, "I had a bellyful of those revolting rodents back on Mars!"
He stomps angrily over to his desk, sits down, and presses a button on what is essentially a small visual intercom, known henceforth as a VidCom. Instantly, the face of one of Limburger's other employees, the super-model thin huge-headed Dr. Karbunkle, appears on the monitor. Actually, his back appears first. He's working on something on a table in front of him, and does not immediately turn to face the VidCom.
"Yes, your Big Cheesiness?" the evil genius hisses, never looking up from his task.
"Do you recall those mice who escaped your laboratory on Mars?" Limburger asks. "The three leaders of that pathetic rebellion?"
"Yes," Karbunkle agrees from his lab table. "Most frustrating. I had barely started experimenting on them—when they got away!"
As Karbunkle talks, he continues working on his current project: replacing the brain of his sadomasochistic "pet", Fred the Mutant. Fred is a stitched-together amalgamation of bits and pieces of various creatures, including a bushy dog's tail, a duck's webbed foot, a bear's foot, and a squid tentacle (don't get perverse—it's his other arm). Fred's main goal in life seems to be finding the best possible way to inflict pain upon himself. At the moment, though, he's sleeping. Karbunkle drops Fred's brain into his otherwise empty skull, then staples it shut as the little mutant wakes up.
"Hey Doc! How about four arms?" he suggests. "Then I could clap in stereo!"
Karbunkle pops a cork into Fred's mouth.
"Oh, shut up," he grumbles.
"Karbunkle! Pay attention!" Limburger commands.
His minion turns to face the monitor, revealing some ominous bloodstains on his otherwise pristine lab coat. Karbunkle stares up at the screen with beady eyes hidden behind smoky black goggles.
"Those Biker rebels have come to Earth," the Plutarkian continues, "and I want to know what you are going to do about it!"
Karbunkle pulls out a remote control.
"Well, your cheddar cheesiness, if you wish to catch a mouse…"
He presses a button on the remote control, and instantly, the scientist is propelled upward through Limburger Tower, until he bursts through the floor of Limburger's office (looking surprisingly well, considering he just had to break through X levels of cement and concrete with his head). Limburger jumps up from behind his desk, but before he can say (or maybe "shout" is more appropriate) a word, Karbunkle presses another button on his remote, summoning up what appears to be a deranged gigantic bear trap, easily seven feet tall and covered in sharp, curving fangs.
"…you must build a better mouse trap!" he concludes.
Limburger stares at the contraption with delight.
"Excellent!" he shouts. "Now all we need is…the bait!"
He begins to laugh sinisterly, which is probably the one thing Limburger does well.
Inside the Garage, we find that Charley's been busy since the last time we looked in on her and the mice. She's been making small improvements to the motorcycles—-hey, it's the least you can do after somebody keeps an oil-dripping dimwit from taking your property away from you—-not to mention doing those repairs Throttle's bike needed so urgently.
"There! That oughtta do it!" she declares, tightening a final bolt.
"Not bad!" Throttle comments appreciatively. "You're a pretty good bike jockey!"
"Best in Chi-town!" Charley answers proudly. She rises to her feet, then walks over to her tool cabinet and adds, "By the way, your weapons looked like they could use a little improvement, so I put in a few extras."
"'Extras'?" Vinnie asks curiously.
"Like what?" Modo questions.
Before Charley can answer, the gray-furred mouse reaches around Vinnie's bike and turns it on. He then presses one of the buttons on the bike's dash.
FWHAM!
A pair of missiles suddenly shoot out of the back of the bike and through Charley's garage door. Unbeknownst to the occupants of the garage, as the missiles continue flying, they hit Greasepit square in the gut. The goon is knocked off clean off his feet and into an alley, where he lies for a moment in a pile of garbage, stunned.
"Like that!" Charley grumbles, staring at the giant hole in her door.
"Ooh, I like it, sweetheart, I like it!" Vinnie laughs.
"Like I live for your approval," the mechanic replies sardonically. Vinnie smacks his head with his forehand, as if to ask, "Why me?"
"I better get those back before they fall into the wrong hands," Charley announces as she squeezes through the hole. Before she's even the whole way outside, however, Greasepit’s gigantic hands clamp on her body and mouth and drag her away.
The mice, meanwhile, are pleasantly unaware of the events unfolding outside. A radio is on behind them, blaring, as the station's DJ comes on the air.
"Hey, buddies, we're honin' some chrome and rattlin' the roadways on WBKR, Sweet Georgie Brown, bangin' heads with metal rock n' roll from Guns N' Noses!" he shouts. Immediately after he's finished, music begins playing once more (very coolly, the wailing of the lead singer sounds suspiciously familiar to that which characterizes Axl Rose and Guns N' Roses classic albums).
"What'd ah tell you guys?" Modo laughs. "Is this guy Sweet Georgie Brown the baddest DJ in the universe or what?"
"Sweet," Vinnie agrees, polishing his mask in a nearby mirror. "Hey, what's taking Charley-girl so long?"
Suddenly, the mice hear Greasepit shouting at them from outside.
"Yo, Biker bunnies! Haul those gopher teeth of yours out here! I got somethin's for ya!"
The mice begin to approach the door, but Charley, who is perched atop the Martian mousetrap Karbunkle created, manages to shake the gag on her mouth and shouts, "No, it’s a trap!" before they come out (insert your own "coming out" joke here).
Greasepit puts a hand on the mechanic's mouth and growls, "Shut up, you!" He then turns his attention back to the garage and cries, "Come on! What’s the matter! Cat got yer tails?"
The goon finds this positively hilarious, and he begins chuckling loudly—-but not so loudly that he doesn't hear the sound of motorcycles revving up. He shuts up just in time to see the Biker Mice, mounted on their bikes, shoot out through the side wall of the garage.
"Geez! Don't these guys ever use doors?" Greasepit wonders aloud (the obvious answer: not if they can avoid it).
"Let her go, oil-breath!" Throttle shouts as the mice pull up in front of him.
Not surprisingly, Greasepit doesn't (who's trapping who here?).
"Youse touch me," he warns, "and I pull this string."
He holds up the rope in his hand, which runs to the Martian mousetrap, and motions toward Charley, sitting in the midst of all those exceptionally deadly-looking spikes.
"And your friend? She goes snap."
Without a moment's hesitation, Throttle says quickly, "All right, bros. Left flank roll."
"Now, guys…" Charley says nervously.
"Number three."
"…maybe you should think things over before …"
"HIT IT!"
"Oh, geez!" the mechanic howls.
The Biker Mice begin racing straight toward Greasepit. Before the bewildered goon can react, Throttle shoots a grappling line out of his bike at him. It wraps around Greasepit, forcing him to drop the rope and sending him tumbling to the ground. Once he is no longer a threat, a blast from Modo’s arm cannon destroys the Trap.
Unfortunately, doing that sends Charley flying high into the air—-from the frying pan into the fire. Before she hits the ground, however, Vinnie races up and catches her.
"Gotcha, sweetheart! Have I got style, or what?" he asks smugly.
"What you got is bad breath!" Charley snaps, waving a hand in front of her face. "You been eatin' onions again, huh?"
"The story of my life," Vinnie sighs. "No respect."
The white-furred mouse quickly pulls up besides his bros, in front of the hog-tied Greasepit, who stares up at them angrily.
"Hey! Three against one ain't fair!" he bawls.
"Now, you listen up, oil breath," Throttle growls. "You just take a message back to your boss."
"What message?"
"You tell him that the Biker Mice from Mars are in town…and the party's over. You got that?"
Greasepit thinks about it for a minute, then replies, "Duh, yeah, I think so."
"Good," Vinnie says, looking over to Modo. "Then it's time to go."
"Oh no," Greasepit whimpers. He has an idea what's coming.
Modo revs his bike's engine.
"Like they say back at Quigley Field, batter up!" he shouts, racing forward and picking Greasepit up off the ground. Throttle shoots off after him a moment later, with Vinnie staying put with Charley to give the color commentary.
"Here's the wind-up…"
"And the pitch!" Modo yells. He throws Greasepit at Throttle, who cocks his fist back and punches the goon so hard that he (Greasepit) goes flying through the air, eventually becoming little more than a speck on the horizon.
"Tootles!" Modo calls out, waving.
"Can't anyone do anything around here?" Limburger howls. "Must I have to do everything myself?"
Greasepit quivers in the corner, still bearing the signs of his beating the previous night. His head and one of his hands have been taped up, an arm is in a sling, and he carries a crutch under one arm. On the bright side, he's at least learned a lesson from the previous day: he's already standing in a bucket to catch his drippings (although the walls are covered with similar streaks). He continues shaking as Limburger walks over to his desk and once again summons his mad scientist on the VidCom.
"Yes, your supreme cheesiness?" Karbunkle hisses.
"Your mousetrap was less than a success!" Limburger shouts. "If you can't take care of those repulsive rodents, we're through on this planet!"
Karbunkle considers this thoughtfully for a moment.
"Well," the mad scientist decides finally, "when one has rats in the attic, there’s but one thing to do."
The scientist presses a button (presumably on the same remote control), opening a pair of doors at the far end of his lab, revealing a tall, menacing-looking silhouette (I personally think that this was the precursor to the Transporter Booth to be seen in later episodes. Since this is essentially the pilot, it makes sense that they wouldn't have everything totally straightened out just yet).
"X-terminate them."
"Hey, Charley says this is where we'll find that Lawrence Limburger clown," Vinnie says as they gaze up at the gargantuan skyscraper.
"Time to pop in for a little visit," Modo declares as they turn on their faceshields.
"Battle mode, bros!" Throttle shouts. "Let's rock the walls off this joint!"
The mice gun their engines and race toward the Tower. They shoot past a pair of overweight bikers eating lunch at a small roadside shop. The two of them watch, amazed, as the mice leap their bikes onto the side of the building and begin riding straight up the vertical wall.
"Man! I want one of those!" one of them cries, awestruck.
The Biker Mice continue making progress up the Tower, but not without being noticed by Limburger. He quickly orders that the building's defenses be activated to deal with the incoming rodents.
And that's just what happens. As our heroes shoot for the roof, large automated canons pop out of the walls of the building and open fire on our heroes. They narrowly avoid them as they leap onto the roof.
"You know, man, I don't think Limburger's exactly happy to see us," Vinnie says with a grin. He abruptly finds himself having to duck a laser as Limburger's crack goon squad ("crack" in the sense that it's safe to say they've all suffered major cranial fractures) races out of a small rooftop garage. Each goon rides in a large, very well-armed dune buggy, and all of them are headed straight for the Biker Mice.
"Uh-oh! Company!" Throttle shouts. "Spread!"
As the goons swarm on them, the Biker Mice split up, each one leading a goon or two behind him. Modo draws one back several yards, then abruptly turns around and charges toward one, knocking the guy out of his buggy with his mechanical arm. Throttle lures one goon toward another coming from the opposite direction, then leaps up and out of the way just in time for the two of them to smash into one another (oddly, this isn't followed by a scene of Vinnie taking out a goon or two, thus defying the usual standard of "when the heroes split up to fight, all of them must be focused on individually").
Limburger watches the spectacle angrily from his office.
"Can't anybody rid me of these bothersome vermin?!" he shouts, frustrated.
Suddenly, the Biker Mice break through one of Limburger's windows and swing inside his office on ropes. They land amid broken glass in front of a thoroughly flustered Limburger.
"It's just so hard to get good help these days," Vinnie comments sympathetically.
"I know, I know," Limburger sighs.
Just then, Throttle scents a familiar stench on the air. He takes a few steps toward Limburger, who backs away nervously.
"Hey. I smell Plutarkian," the leader of the mice says softly.
Throttle's tail whips out suddenly and grabs Limburger by the hair. A single jerk abruptly pulls off Limburger's entire face. Hey, when did this turn into Mortal Kombat?
In actuality, what Throttle pulled off was just what appeared to be Limburger's face. The businessman's human visage was actually a rubber mask. Underneath, just as the mice have suspected, he's a scaly, blue-faced Plutarkian.
"Oh? You could tell?" Limburger asks, sounding slightly surprised. He sniffs one of his armpits and remarks, "I must have the air conditioning repaired at once."
Before the Biker Mice can act, a nearby piece of floor opens up suddenly. Slowly, Karbunkle rises out of it, surrounded by thin streamers of smoke, much to the mice's surprise and horror.
"Karbunkle?!?" Modo shouts, stunned.
"Yes, my dear boy," the mad doctor hisses. "How very nice of you to remember."
Modo grimaces.
"Oh, ah remember, all right," the gray-furred mouse growls, his single eye glowing bright red once more. "Ah remember you took my arm. But I got me another one—see?!?"
Now, fans who have seen "The Verminator" and "Once Upon a Time on Mars Part Two" know that this scene is one that is a bit of a temporal anomally. Karbunkle was the one who built Modo's arm, so why would Modo show it to him as if it were something the scientist who had never seen before? Also, by the time Modo got to Karbunkle's lab, the damage done to it by Greaespit's missile probably justified the mad scientist's removing it. The simple reason for the discreptancy is that the two episodes that I mentioned earlier that contradict this episode were written much later, and sort of revise the history of the series. It's just one of those things that happens when you're writing an extremely long series. Just live with it, have fun with it, make up your own goofy--ass explanation, like "subjective memory" or something. Go to town with it!
"Very interesting invention," Karbunkle comments. "And speaking of inventions, I have one you might like to meet—-"
He once again presses a button on his remote control. Another platform rises up out of the floor, and slowly, reveals the terrifying figure that is--Donny Osmond.
No, kidding. It's the gigantic figure of a decidedly Arnold Schwartzenegger-ian (geez, I don't think that's a word) robot on an equally huge motorcycle. Karbunkle grins from behind it.
"—-X-Terminator!" he crows.
"Well, well, it seems that it's time to say goodbye to our guests!" Limburger says cheerfully as the Biker Mice stare at their new opponent (I think they were expecting that they were just going to have to take on Greasepit again ^^).
Throttle abruptly whistles through his fingers. Up on the roof, the mice's bikes begin to stir.
"I gotta tell ya, it's been a treat fellas," Throttle comments, "but it's time for us to rock and roll!"
The mice leap out of the office's window. They no sooner do than they're met by their awaiting bikes, streaking down from the rooftop to catch them. The mice mount up quickly, ride down the side of the building, and onto the streets below.
"X-TERMINATE THEM!" Limburger orders angrily. The X-Terminator immediately leaps his bike out of Limburger Tower and after the Biker Mice, who already have a commanding lead on him. The threesome leap over a pit dug into the ground, unaware of the presence of a group of goons within (this segment, you'll notice, features a few scenes that are akin to the opening animation). Shortly after they hit the ground at the end of their leap, the goons begin chasing after them.
"You guys take Limburger's goon squad! I'll handle the big fella!" Throttle shouts.
At that, the mice split up, with Throttle racing in one direction and Modo and Vinnie in another. Modo easily takes out one goon by firing a pair of missiles into his front tires. The buggy comes to a dead stop, tossing out its driver.
"What a flat-head," he comments—-right before he drives into a dead end street.
Another goon blocks the exit. He begins twirling a short whip (maybe a cat of nine tails?) and leans up out of his vehicle.
"Looks like I caught'd me a big, fat rat," the goon says with a grin.
"Rat's to you, pal!" Modo replies, firing a blast of his arm cannon at the goon's buggy. The resulting smoke cloud from this explosion leads us into Vinnie riding out of another, a pair of goons hot on his tail.
"It's been real, sweethearts!" Vinnie crows. "But now, it's time for lights out!"
The mouse fires a pair of missiles at his opponents. They strike home and take out the bad guys toute suite.
"Yes!" Vinnie shouts, pumping his fist. "Double play!"
Throttle, in the meantime, is busy leading the X-Terminator toward a large industrial plant. He pauses in front of its doors as the villain draws ever nearer, then taunts, "Come and get me, tin man!"
The X-Terminator charges Throttle, who leaps out of his way just in time. The supervillain shoots straight through the doors, and is unable to stop himself before he races up a ramp into a vat of some molten substance. Throttle rides up the ramp as the X-Terminator begins sinking into the bubbling mess.
"Ah'll be back," he groans.
"Yeah, well, don't forget to write," Throttle replies casually.
"It's gonna take a long time to mend that mangled mess of metal," Throttle laments sadly.
Suddenly, with a considerate screeching of metal, the spaceship falls off balance and begins sliding further into the Scoreboard, no doubt becoming even more damaged as it goes. With a final thunderous crash, it disappears inside.
Throttle flops down on his bike's handlebars.
"Typical. Just great!"
"Well, if you're stuck here on Earth, this place will make as good a hideout as any!" Charley suggests, making a broad motion at the field.
"What? Here? In the scoreboard?" Throttle asks, incredulous.
"Why not?" the mechanic replies wryly. "Limburger and his grease goons would never think to look for you here!"
The three mice consider this for a moment, and concede that their new compatriot has a good point. Thus, our heroes find the home they'll live in for the next sixty-four episodes.
"Well, now that we've got the bachelor pad thing together," Vinnie says, grabbing his helmet, "whaddaya say we grab a little chow?"
"I know a great cheese shop downtown!" Charley shouts, eager to help.
The Biker Mice gag at the very thought.
"Whaddaya think we are?" Modo demands, disgusted.
"Uh…Mice?" Charley replies, shrugging.
"I was thinkin' maybe a few root beers…" Vinnie suggests, "...a couple of dogs…"
"Okay, group!" Throttle shouts. "Then let's—-"
"I got this one, sweetheart!" Vinnie interrupts. He whips his tail around Charley's waist and picks her up, dropping her onto his bike behind him.
"Okay, you mamajammers, let's rock—-"
"—-AND RIDE!" the mice shout, riding off into the sunset.
(duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh!)
MY FEELINGS ON THE EPISODE
"Rock & Ride" is the first episode of the series, and as such, it's got its high points and its low points. The story itself is a good one. It introduces the main concepts of the plot: the mice's home planet was destroyed by the Plutarkians, now the Plutarkians on Earth, the mice have to keep Limburger from destroying Chicago. All the main characters are introduced, and we get a good idea of who they are immediately. Music is sharp, and the voice actors are all right on the mark (although it'll be awhile before Rob Paulsen gets Throttle's voice just right). This episode is a bit darker than those that follow, and a little scanter on the humor, but considering that this episode has to give us the back story of the Plutarkian War and the near-extinction of the Martian mice and it has to present Lawrence Limburger and his crew as serious villains, it's understandable. Interestingly, this is one of the extremely few episodes in which Limburger Tower is not destroyed—-that doesn't start until the third episode, "The Reeking Reign of Head Cheese Part Two."
Of course, there are some problems with this episode, as it's the first one out of the gate. The animation is a bit variable—-sometimes, it's good, sometimes, it's bad—-the only thing it isn't is consistent. In some places, the mice's bikes seem to be moving much too slowly, most noticeably at the very end. Gradually, this does improve, and by the end of the series, the artists are obviously very accomplished at drawing our heroes, and the other aspects of production have improved as well. Additionally, some of the characters are a bit different in terms of personality than they will be in future episodes, most notably Greasepit, who seems to be a much tougher cookie early on.
But you can't be too hard on the first episode of anything. After all, it usually takes a few episodes before a series really gets moving along good. It's rarer for one to hit the ground running than for one to stumble a bit before hitting its stride. And given the rest of the episodes, this wasn't that bad a beginning.
If you haven't already seen "Rock & Ride!", you can still get it on video. It's probably the most abundantly available of the first season episodes. It's on the tape "Rock & Ride!", along with both parts of "The Reeking Reign of Head Cheese." E-bay is a great place to pick up the first-season tapes, usually at a bargain price. Simply enter "biker mice" in the search field, and a listing of available Biker Mice products will be given. Amazon.com is another good place to go looking. Searching through Yahoo and AltaVista might also turn up video sources online. You won't regret your search. Good luck!
Main
| basic information | episodes | in-depth | fun | MAIN |