Constantine is a drifter, a man with a lot of miles behind him and a lot more ahead and a number of jobs in between that never showed up on anyone?s books. He hitches a ride on a bright spring morning with a little man named Polk. Heading down a country road in Polk?s hopped-up car, the two men share a few cigarettes. Later, when Constantine walks toward the big brick house, the Beat in his head, the grip of the .45 warm in his hand, the siren wailing at his back, he thinks that the whole thing started on that road, with the car stopping for his upturned thumb. He thinks that the things that happen to a man are put in motion by something just that small, just that random. He thinks about that and he laughs but keeps on walking. A powerful mix of violence and social realism, Shoedog is contemporary noir at its finest.