The moon gleams ivory through wisps of cloud. Shovels and pickaxes are strapped to the bikes, like Sam insisted. For what? Digging their own graves? Sam wouldn't say. The whole trip's weird.
You want the most quintessentially 1970s thing EVER?!
Well...
This is about a Hell's Angel! (and you can't get more 70s than that) And his bike is possessed by the Devil! (and you can't get more 70s than that) And he drinks... Watney's Red Barrel! (It's a horror story.)