Motorcycles…murders…mayhem…and a secret society bent on removing motorcyclists from the road by any means necessary . What happens when a mediocre financial professional living in the leafy suburbs of Chicago reads a little too much Friedrich Nietzsche? All hell breaks loose, that’s what. Especially when our protagonist stumbles across similarly disturbed individuals in Wisconsin who share his primordial contempt for motorcycles and all they represent—a contempt so pure it’s able to bridge the divide between urban blue-state professionals and rural red-state truckers. Once he embarks on his odyssey of destruction, there’s no going back. The roads of the Upper Midwest will never be the same. Raymond Burton Lowenschwitzel is the prototypical “cager,” as his two-wheeled enemies would call him. He’s a man entrapped not only within the cage/cab of his pickup truck, but within the recesses of his own twisted fantasies. Suburban Übermensch represents his frantic, last-ditch effort to justify his increasingly erratic behavior. Reader beware: Each of the book’s eighteen chapters consists of a single sentence, and this unrelenting, grammatically problematic Dionysian torrent of words may annoy more priggish, Apollonian readers.