Werewolves on Wheels (1971)
A werewolf biker film with very little werewolfage, “Werewolves on Wheels” tries to make up for its shortcomings in other ways.
You know, like lots of boobies and weird druids and bikers trucking around on their bikes beating people up.
There’s not much of a story to speak of, but really, what would be the point anyway? A bunch of hardscrabble denim-and-leather-wearing rapscallions speed around the highways, then encounter some screwy druids who turn them into werewolves.
There you have it.
There is, as I mentioned, copius jiggly nudity, including one scene where the bikers have sort of commandeered a restaurant, when an older gentleman wanders in and is treated to quite a show from one of the biker babes. When her corresponding biker brute gets a little frisky, the old coot decides he wants in whether it’s occupied or not.
The gang is a rather gregarious bunch, more or less harmless unless provoked (as they are early on, when a couple of bored rednecks decide to run one of the bikers off the road. Let’s say they made a poor choice, and were let off fairly easily.
Eventually the gang interrupts a group of druids in the middle of a ceremony. But keeping with the mellow tone of the film, the druids welcome the bikers and give them bread and wine, and sneak in a little werewolf curse. The bikers thank them and go on their way.
Soon the bikers find themselves being killed off a couple at a time, and none of them seem especially concerned, until the (kinda) rousing finale, where we finally see some of the hairy beasts.
“Werewolves on Wheels” is leisurely viewing for the b-movie freak, the schlock equivalent of a Saturday afternoon movie. Mildly diverting, but not especially interesting, it’s worth watching, and isn’t lacking an enjoyable moment or two, but it’s not particularly memorable (only a day after watching, I revisited the film’s trailer and noticed at least 3 scenes I had forgot happened), and as werewolf movies go, I’d even call its lack of lycan activity disappointing.