You are riding along in the left lane of a one-way street, with a car ahead of you on your right. As the two of you enter an intersection, the car swerves left across your path to make a turn.
Strategy: Because traffic was light, the driver may have forgotten that he was traveling on a one-way street and never looked in his blind spot for you. Since there was no traffic in the oncoming lane, he felt free to make a normal left turn (without signaling), inadvertently trapping you in his path. There was no way, short of watching for the non-existent signal, to predict that this driver was going to turn left. But remembering that intersections are always situations of increased risk, you might have prepared for this by taking actions to separate yourself from the other vehicle. By riding so close (and inside the driver’s blind spot) you effectively hid yourself from the driver’s vision and greatly increased your exposure to danger.
For more information go to www.msf-usa.org
FOR BIKERS & THEIR BETTER HALVES.
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JBA Custom Cycles opened its doors in 2008 with a passion for building unique rides. In the early years, our focus was on sport bikes, Hayabusas, 1000cc rockets, and fat tire builds dripping in chrome and show appeal. We made a name for ourselves with bold designs that turned heads wherever they went.
As the motorcycle world evolved, so did we. Our shop shifted into the Harley-Davidson scene, specializing in big wheel baggers with custom paint, performance motor work, and flashy wheels that push the limits of creativity and craftsmanship. Over the years, we’ve taken home countless awards from shows like the Rat’s Hole, Daytona Beach Boardwalk, and many more across the country. In 2018, JBA expanded its
vision beyond custom builds and stepped into parts production. Starting with a 3D printer and scanner, we began creating one-off pieces that gave our bikes an unmistakable edge. Today, we’ve grown that foundation into a full CNC machining operation, producing our own billet floorboard line and custom components that meet the same high standards we put into every build.
From our beginnings with sport bikes to our current reputation as builders of world-class Harley baggers and innovative parts, JBA Custom Cycles continues to push forward—driven by passion, creativity, and the belief that every bike should be as unique as the rider behind it.
BUILD SPECS
Owner:
Builder:
Location:
Email:
Shop Number:
Bike Name:
Year/make/Model:
Painter:
Engine:
Intake/exhaust:
Suspension:
Front-end:
Head light:
Wheels: Brakes:
Mike Platt
JBA Custom Cycles
Fort Myers, FL
mail@jbacustoms.com (239)772-3895
Rapunzel
2002 HD Road Glide
Ryan Hathway
24 S&S, with 12 point hardware, jugs and heads pineapple cut with diamond cut
Trask nasty bastard exhaust, 66mm throttle body, smt air cleaner
Dirty air front and rear, mri center stand with af kustom controls
Arlen Ness smoth lowers,E ddie Trotta fork covers
JBA Custom Cycles hive series
SMT 3d v-arm front and rear
PM 6 piston calipers front and rear With 13in smt matching v-arm rotors
Chin spoiler:
Fairing:
Handlebars: Seat:
Tank/Console/ Gas cap:
Rear End Setup:
AF Kistoms weld on
Camtech quad inner and outer, Dirty Bird wind shield all molded together
HHI daggers with pm grips and controls, Roland Sands Design clutch and brake master cylinders
Cutting Edge upholstery (Jamie Borg)
TOL designs
Footboards/ Controls:
Battery :
Audio System:
TOL designs competitions bags and fender molded side panel to bags, insane asylum 6.5 lids, jba custom cycles hive speaker grills , black lable latch covers
Hertz Euphoria and morel speakers, sound digital amps, Kenwood head unit
RAPUNZEL
I hope everyone out there is enjoying this spectacular riding weather. What great mental therapy it is! For me I’d rather ride and think about business than sit in a conference room and think about riding. Having served over 12,000 clients in 13 states in the past 20 years I’ve finally realized what can help my clients most. Sure, I can make them millionaires but so what! What really matters I’ve come to realize is helping them design an estate plan with a will and living trust the easiest most cost-effective way. It’s a bucket list thing everyone puts off but will gain a benefit from. So, I say, “Do something today that your future self will thank you for.” I have compiled some real stories on why you should take action and get yourself set up correctly using motorcycle situations. I hope you enjoy them on these few pages.
A Biker Helping Bikers
LET’S AVOID EVER HAVING TO SAY “I WISH I KNEW BACK THEN WHAT I KNOW NOW”
Our system is not in place …
The Inherited Iron that almost went to the wrong person.
When Raven Holloway’s father died, she didn’t expect to inherit much more than a pile of dusty old books and maybe a few rusty tools. Her father, Vincent, was known around town as the local mechanic with a dark, brooding presence—always dressed in black leather, always working on some project bike in his cluttered garage. What she didn’t expect was the legal nightmare that followed his passing. A week after the funeral, Raven was called to the lawyer’s once, where she learned that her father’s prized possession—his custom-built, jet-black Harley-Davidson—wasn’t as straightforward as she thought. Though Vincent had told her stories of how he built it from the ground up, no will was ever filed. Instead, the bike became entangled in probate, with other distant relatives suddenly laying claim to it.
One of them was her cousin, Derek—slick, greedy, and never close to her father. He claimed that he had “helped build the bike” and therefore deserved a share of its value. Another was Uncle Martin, Vincent’s estranged brother, who argued that as the oldest living relative, he should inherit everything. The lawyer, Mr. Harlow, laid out the situation. Without a clear will or proof of
ownership, the motorcycle would be evaluated as part of the estate and sold to cover debts—unless someone could prove rightful ownership. Frustrated, Raven went back to the garage, searching for anything that might help.
That’s when she found it—a small, locked toolbox with the initials V.H. engraved on top. Inside were faded receipts, including one from twenty years ago: Custom Frame - Purchased by Vincent Holloway. Another receipt showed Engine Parts - Ordered by V. Holloway. At the bottom of the box was an old photograph of her as a little girl, sitting on the Harley’s unfinished frame, her father grinning beside her.
On the back, written in his scruffy handwriting, was:
“Built for my girl—Raven’s Ride.”
Armed with the evidence, Raven returned to the lawyer. The receipts and photo, combined with testimonies from Vincent’s longtime friends, were enough to prove that the bike was always intended to be hers. Derek and Uncle Martin fought it but eventually, the probate judge ruled in her favor.
When the decision came down, Raven rode her father’s Harley through town, the wind whipping through her black hair, leather jacket tight around her shoulders. The bike wasn’t just an inheritance—it was a legacy, a reminder of the bond they shared, and a testament to the miles Vincent had traveled just to leave her something worth fighting for.
Our system is not in place …
The Harley in Probate
When old Tom Callahan passed away, his beloved 1972 Harley-Davidson sat untouched
in the garage, its chrome dull and its engine silent. His daughter, Emily, couldn’t bear to look at it—knowing it was the last piece of him left. A week after the funeral, a letter arrived from the lawyer: “No will found. All assets, including the motorcycle, must go through probate.” Emily’s heart sank. Without a will, Tom’s estranged brother, Gary, stepped in—claiming the Harley should be sold to cover debts. Desperate, Emily searched through her dad’s cluttered workbench, hoping to find something that proved it was meant for her. Finally, tucked inside an old leather saddlebag, she found a crumpled, grease-stained note:
“For Em—your ride when I’m gone. Love, Dad.”
In court, Emily showed the note—barely legible but undeniably his handwriting. With tears in her eyes, she spoke about their Sunday rides and how her dad always said the bike would be hers. The judge, moved by her words and the note, ruled in her favor. That evening, Emily took the Harley out, the engine roaring to life. As the wind whipped through her hair, she felt her dad’s presence—riding with her one last time.
How our system passed along a Harley probate free …
The Last Ride
Ben Carter never thought his father would leave him anything—let alone a motorcycle. Growing up, his dad was always on the road, chasing the horizon on his beloved 1969 Harley-Davidson, while Ben and his mom struggled to make ends meet back home. When the old man finally passed, Ben wasn’t sure how to feel—until the lawyer handed him a faded envelope with his name on it. Inside was a single key and a handwritten note:
”Son, I know
I wasn’t around much, but this bike was my freedom—my escape. It’s yours now. Take one last ride for me. There’s something I
left for you out at Blackwood Point. You’ll know where to look.”
Confused and a little angry, Ben drove out to his dad’s old cabin. There it was—rusty but beautiful, just like he remembered. After some tinkering, the Harley roared to life, its engine vibrating through his bones like a heartbeat. Riding through the open road, memories started to blur with the wind—the good ones, few and far between, but strong enough to remind him that his dad wasn’t just a wanderer—he was searching for something. When Ben reached Blackwood Point, he saw a small metal box buried under a pile of stones. Inside was a leatherbound journal filled with his dad’s thoughts, regrets, and dreams—things he never shared with anyone. Tucked in the back was an old photograph of them at a fair, with the words scribbled on the back:
”I never stopped loving you. I just didn’t know how
to stay.”
Ben sat on the edge of the cliff, the motorcycle cooling beside him, and realized that sometimes, forgiveness is found on the open road—where the past follows but doesn’t have to catch up.
Our system is not in place …
TOD created a costly legal headache
Jake Peterson was a motorcycle enthusiast with a collection of vintage bikes that he cherished more than anything. As he grew older, he wanted to make sure his prized possessions would go directly to his son, Lucas, without any hassle. To avoid probate, Jake added a Transfer on Death (TOD) designation to each motorcycle title, naming Lucas as the beneficiary. Unfortunately,
when Jake passed away unexpectedly, Lucas assumed the motorcycles would smoothly transfer to him. However, when he went to the DMV to change the titles, he discovered a problem. The clerk explained that the TOD designation was incomplete— Jake had never properly signed or filed the paperwork for two of his most valuable bikes.
To make matters worse, another complication arose. One of Jake’s ex-wives, Sarah, claimed that Jake had verbally promised her one of the motorcycles during their divorce settlement. Although it wasn’t written in the divorce decree, Sarah argued that the bike rightfully belonged to her. Now, Lucas found himself in probate court, battling not only to claim the motorcycles that didn’t have valid TOD designations but also to defend his right to the bike his father supposedly promised to Sarah. The judge had to sort through the conflicting claims and incomplete paperwork before deciding who would inherit the motorcycles. In the end, the judge ruled that the motorcycles without proper TOD paperwork had to go through probate, and Sarah’s claim was dismissed due to lack of evidence. Lucas finally gained ownership of his father’s collection, but not without months of legal headaches and unexpected fees.
It’s never too late to start planning for retirement. Time goes bye fast! There is not a one size fits all paint by the numbers solution. All of our situations are unique. You don’t need more money you just need a better plan. After having the privilege to serve tens of thousands of people over the years I can attest to the statement “That money won’t make you happy! But riding a motorcycle will! “
My passion is to help bikers in life changing ways. Hence the reason I created www.BikerHelpingbikers.com
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RIDE APPALACHIA
GIVING IT “BOTH BARRELS” AT THE BIG SHOW – A BUCKET LIST TRIP TO THE 85TH STURGIS MOTORCYCLE
RALLY FOR CENTRAL APPALACHIA!
This year’s journey to the 85th Anniversary Sturgis Motorcycle Rally was more than just a road trip—it was a mission. For the Appalachian Motorcycle Group (AMG) and our Non-Profit Organizaton- Backroads of Appalachia (BOA), Sturgis represented the chance to share the story of our mountains, our people, and our trails on the biggest stage in the motorcycle world.
After years of building a one-of-a-kind riding network across Kentucky, West Virginia, Tennessee, and Virginia, we went west determined to show riders everywhere why Central Appalachia is home to “The Best Riding in the U.S.! Period.” For us, this wasn’t simply about attending the rally; it was about taking the voice of Appalachia to the world and putting our region on the map for riders everywhere.
We didn’t go alone. Our community of riders, partners, sponsors, and small-town supporters rallied behind us, helping spread the word every step of the way. With BOA LIVE! broadcasting across the Black Hills and countless riders stopping by to hear our story, this trip proved that Appalachia had finally arrived and we were out to reach as many riders as we could with our supporting community. The support we received was humbling, and together we gave it “both barrels” at the 85th—firing on all cylinders for our region back home.
BRINGING APPALACHIA TO THE WORLD’S LARGEST
RALLY - From the moment we rolled into our home base at the THUNDERDOME, the trip delivered nonstop bucket-list moments we’ll never forget.
BUCKET LIST #1: Our very first BOA LIVE! broadcast was joined—completely unplanned—by Janice and Billy Green from the
192 Souvenir Shack. Rattlesnake 192 was one of the original trails we founded to help promote back in 2019. To see the Greens in Sturgis reminded us exactly where we started and how far we’ve come.
BUCKET LIST #2: Appalachian businesses were everywhere. Biker Bites from Tennessee fed us daily with everything from seafood to wild game, while EZ Kustom Paint from North Georgia set up right across the lot. These weren’t just vendors—they were family, part of our Appalachian community now stretching all the way to South Dakota. Appalachia was in the house at the THUNDERDOME!
BUCKET LIST #3: We had front-row seats at our trailer as Colby Raha shattered the world jump record at 205 feet—not once, but multiple times. Watching history that close was unforgettable.
The highlights kept rolling in. Bucket List #4 was meeting Shantell Williams, the “Ultimate Lady Rider” and record holder, who stopped by to sign our BOA Wall of Fame. Bucket List #5 came during our 3rd Annual BOA LIVE! show when John and Heather Toto and Born to Ride Magazine—our biggest media partners back home— rolled in despite the chaos of stunt shows and noise all around. Their support made it clear: our community was in the house and stretches coast to coast.
Then came the Rat’s Hole Bike Show. Builder David Long’s “Backroads Brawler,” a rat bike as Appalachian as moonshine in a mason jar, had already won us two Rats Holes. But this was Sturgis. Against all odds, that wild Honda-matic machine with its Mountain Dew holder in the tank took home another win. Accepting that trophy was Bucket List #6—a lifelong dream for me, for David and Donna, and for the people of our region.
FRYDADDY’S OLD SCHOOL BIKE SHOW FOR CHARITY
Another milestone was hosting FryDaddy’s Old School Bike Show
Rattlesnake
for Childhood Cancer at the THUNDERDOME—our first time bringing it west.
BUCKET LIST #7: Bikes of every style rolled in—choppers, rat bikes, vintage builds, customs—all judged blindly to give everyone a fair shot. It wasn’t just about trophies; it was about unity and raising money for kids.
BUCKET LIST #8: Legendary announcer “Biker Bob” from the Rat’s Hole Show joined us, lending his voice and support to our cause. To have him there was an honor.
BUCKET LIST #9: The surprise of the show came from Robert Espinosa of Viclas & Customs out of Pueblo Colorado. He brought 12 custom engraved Harleys so detailed they stunned everyone and swept the competition—first, second, third, and Best in Show. To top it off, he won our raffle and pledged to bring his 58-bike collection east to Daytona for our show. That promise sealed
Bucket List #10: Ensuring East will meet West for an unforgettable event this fall all for children in treatment!
These moments at Sturgis proved something important: our work isn’t just about rides and routes. It’s about our growing community, supporting small businesses, and giving back through charity.
WHAT’S
NEXT – RIDING SEASON IN APPALACHIA
As incredible as South Dakota was, our favorite roads are still at home. Fall in Central Appalachia is the season we live for, when crisp air and mountain colors create a backdrop no other place can match.
On September 6th, we’ll host the Moonbow Ride at Cumberland Falls State Park, our only night ride of the year. Riders travel from across the country to see this rare natural wonder—a rainbow made by moonlight, visible in only a handful of places on earth. Add in the roar of bikes under a full moon, and it becomes a memory
you’ll never forget. Two weeks later, on September 20th, comes our toughest challenge: THE IRON-The Final Chapter. Covering 760 miles and crossing four states in just two days, this ride isn’t about speed—it’s about endurance in the Appalachian Mountains. Only 34 riders to date have earned the Appalachian Iron Butt Warrior patch, and it remains the only patch in our program that must be earned, not bought. It’s as tough as the people of these mountains, and it tests every rider to their core. It is also one of our best and includes 10 of our most popular trails all in one ride! Do you have what it takes to earn the patch?
Finally, on September 27th, we’ll host our Shiners for Shriners Double-Decker Poker Run at the Beattyville Bourbon & Moonshine Festival. Riding alongside the Discovery Channel’s Moonshiners, we’ll wind through the Red River Gorge and through Nada Tunnel (Eye of the Dragon). This event blends Appalachian heritage, charity, and unforgettable scenery into one of our favorite rides of the year. You will learn the history of each distillery on the Moonshine Trail as we stop to get each card! Then we are back on Main Street in Beattyville for Kentucky’s Biggest Moonshine Festival and it is all for the Children of Shriner’s Hospital! Another “Uniquely Appalachian” Event you will only find here!
Come Join us this Fall on the Backroads of Appalachia!
With 56+ GPS-enabled routes and more than 5,000 miles of incredible roads, our region isn’t just another destination—it’s the soul of riding in America. From our handpicked Appalachian points of interest to our community of riders ready to guide the way, there’s no place like it. The best part? You’ll only find it here, ONLY IN APPALACHIA!
Download the free BOA App, explore our REVER communities, or visit backroadsofappalachia.org/events to plan your trip. The roads are waiting for you and so are we!
Let’s Ride Appalachia!
— Jay Fryman (Frydaddy) Founder, Appalachian Motorcycle Group Backroads of Appalachia Board of Directors
The Best Gear in Your Saddlebag (But Half of Y’all Forgot to Pack
Common Sense: The Best Gear in Your Saddlebag (But Half of Y’all Forgot to Pack It) Listen up, brothers and sisters. Pull up a stool, grab a cold one, and let this old biker save you a little road rash and a whole lotta shame. We’re talkin’ about the rarest piece of safety gear out there — common freakin’ sense. Judging by what I see every weekend, some of y’all traded yours in for chrome farkles, a cupholder, and a Bluetooth headset that makes you sound like a trucker in a wind tunnel. So let me break it down for you before you become a roadside decoration. — Your Bike Ain’t a Rocket Ship I don’t care if you spent five grand on a Stage 4 kit and had your engine blessed by the ghost of Evel Knievel — your Road Glide still ain’t a fighter jet. Quit weaving through traffic like you’re filming Fast & the Fearless. Nobody’s impressed, except maybe the tow truck driver who gets to scrape you off the interstate. And when you clip that mirror at 80 and eat asphalt, you know what the headline says? “Local biker wrecks. Authorities suspect excessive speed.” Not “Legendary badass bent the laws of physics and rode straight into Valhalla.” Common sense says: back it down, hero. The road’s still gonna be there in ten minutes, and so is the beer at the bar. — Loud Pipes Don’t Make You Bulletproof Don’t get me wrong — I love a bike that rumbles like a grizzly bear gargling gravel, and I live for that underpass echo that rattles your fillings. But let me clue you in — Karen in her minivan? She don’t care. She’s got a latte in one hand, a yoga mat in the other, and three screaming kids in the backseat singing Taylor Swift off-key.
She doesn’t hear you. She doesn’t see you. And if you’re betting your life that your pipes make you invincible, you might as well preorder the headstone and ask the boys to pitch in for good whiskey at your wake. Ride like you’re invisible, because to nine outta ten drivers, you are. And that tenth driver?
He’s texting, too. — Rain, White Lines, and Dumb Luck Seen too many rookies hit the first drizzle of rain and suddenly forget physics. White line, manhole cover, crosswalk stripe — all of it’s slicker than bacon grease at a Waffle House. Wanna test your deductible? Lean into a wet corner at 50 and pray to Saint Harley. Otherwise, slow your roll. Common sense says: keep it upright till the road dries, slick. Unless you wanna be the guy explaining in the ER how “the road just came outta nowhere.” — Your Phone Ain’t a Co-Pilot Nothing — and I mean nothing — makes my blood pressure spike like seeing some clown texting while riding. One hand on the bars, the other typing “LOL” while doing 70?
“We’re talkin’ about the rarest piece of safety gear out there — common freakin’ sense.”
Buddy, you’re not multi-tasking — you’re auditioning for the “World’s Dumbest Riders” highlight reel. If it can’t wait till you pull over, it ain’t worth it. Nobody’s ever read a text that justified a skin graft or a titanium rod in their femur.
— Friends Don’t Let Friends Ride Stupid Every crew’s got one — that guy who thinks “three shots and a beer don’t count.” Next thing you know, he’s staggering to his bike like a baby giraffe and patting his pockets for his keys. That’s when brotherhood kicks in. Take the keys. Hide the bike. Call a ride. Lie if you have to — tell him the cops set up a DUI checkpoint or his tire’s flat. He’ll curse you out tonight and thank you in the morning. Common sense says: save your brother’s life, even if you bruise his ego. — Don’t Argue With Parking Lot Philosophers There’s always one gasstation Socrates spouting wisdom: • “Real bikers don’t wear helmets.” • “If it ain’t a Harley, it ain’t a bike.” • “GPS is for city boys.” You know what I do? Smile. Nod. Fire up the engine and roll out. Ain’t no sense wasting oxygen arguing with someone who thinks high-vis gear makes you “look like a crossing guard.” — Chrome fades, helmets scuff, and paint jobs scratch. But common sense? That’s the one tool that keeps you outta the hospital and off the evening news. So toss it in your saddlebag — right next to the tire gauge and the rain gear — and keep it handy. Because on the road, there’s only two types of riders: • The ones who ride smart. • And the ones who end up as a story we tell at the bar — usually while shaking our heads and raising a glass. And trust me — you don’t wanna be that story. Be safe. Use common sense and hope to see you out there in one piece
— Nefarious James American Patriot
CROSSROADS blues highway & the the
photos & story by T. Eric Albright >>>
At the crossroads of two Mississippi highways, the Devil and a young blackguitarplayersignacontract—andtheDeltaBluesasweknow it today is born...
M“Clarksdale, Mississippi knows its history. It’s as close to being the birthplace of the blues as one can get.”
any have heard the legend of Robert Johnson—how he was able to play the guitar so well with so much feeling by selling his soul to the Devil. And the crossroads of Highways 61 and 49 in Clarksdale, Mississippi is the location of that devilish deal. I don’t take too much to stories about demons and deals like that. But as far as musicians such as Johnson, Son House, Albert King, Stevie Ray Vaughn and others go, I can never get enough of the blues.
U.S. Highway 61 runs 1400 miles from Louisiana, through six states ending in northern Minnesota basically at the Canadian border. The Blues seems to follow this road all the way up to Chicago. If you take some Louisiana Jazz and travel up the Blues Highway into the Mississippi Delta region, add in a little sharecropper Soul, stop off in Memphis and add a touch of Country, then switch on the electricity in Chicago, you have modern day Blues and it’s bastard stepchild, Rock and Roll.
Last month I wrote about our ride down the Natchez Trace Parkway and we left off in Natchez by the Mississippi River. The second leg of that trip we followed The Blues Highway up
to Clarksdale and then on to Memphis. I wanted to see the part of our country that had so much influence on the music I listen to and the people that played it.
Riding north on 61 as we leave Natchez is really quite commercial until you pass Vicksburg. We did pull off to see the Vicksburg National Military Park, which preserves the site of the Civil War’s Battle of Vicksburg. This was a siege battle and lasted longer than a month and a half, ending in a Union victory, giving them full control over the Mississippi River. The park has over a thousand monuments and markers along with miles of restored trenches showing just how the battle began and progressed. It is worth a visit if you haven’t already.
Once you leave Vicksburg and cross the Yazoo River, the real Mississippi Delta opens up as a flat fertile land with Highway 61 running through as straight as one of Robert Johnson’s guitar strings. Mile after mile of cotton and cornfields line the highway on both sides. Every 15 or 20 miles a small farming town will quickly pass you by. Abandoned shacks and old farm silos rise up from among the fields of cotton and corn. Our visit was during harvest time and I could see
red dust storms crossing the road ahead as huge cotton combines went through the fields pulling the soft white fibers from this region’s livelihood. Sometimes the road stretched out in front of you without a curve in sight. But somehow, it’s perfect, evoking feelings of roaring up the highway 50 or 60 years ago, looking for a new life or running from an old problem.
Once we reached our next destination, Clarksdale, Mississippi, the lodging we had arranged for the next few days was one of the most unique you’ll find in any of your travels. The Shack Up Inn, as they say on their website, “Ain’t No Ritz.” Located on the property of the old Hopson Plantation, it is a combination of sharecropper shacks and an old tin cotton gin
restored for accommodations. The Hopson Plantation is where farming cotton first became mechanized and probably changed the economy of the region forever. Virtually unchanged from when it was a working plantation, you will find authentic sharecropper shacks, the original cotton gin, and other outbuildings. You get somewhat of a feel for plantation life as it may have been when Robert Johnson traveled these roads laying down the devil’s music. The corrugated tin roofs and Mississippi cypress walls of the Shack Up Inn will remind you of a long gone era, restored only enough to accommodate our modern expectations. Getting our bikes back out onto the other half of the crossroads, Highway 49, the scenery changes very little. We’re traveling east on our way to visit
one of the locations that claims to be Robert Johnson’s final resting place. Several places lay claim to Mr. Johnson’s gravesite, but after doing a little research of my own this one seemed to be the most likely. The Little Zion Mission Baptist Church on Money Road, a few miles north of Greenwood, MS is where most people now believe Johnson is buried. Even the state of Mississippi has erected a highway marker on the property, commemorating Johnson’s life and influence. But the church’s pastor says, “… having Robert Johnson buried on the church grounds is both a blessing and a curse.” Hundreds of people visit the cemetery every year and leave behind trash and personal memorabilia, including liquor bottles, drugs, and beer cans. My riding partner Jimmy brought along
CROSSROADS blues highway
his acoustic blues guitar on the back of his bike and after sitting down by Mr. Johnson’s grave and playing a little blues of his own, he did leave his guitar pick on top of the headstone. It just seemed like the right thing to do.
Clarksdale, Mississippi knows its history. It’s as close to being the birthplace of the blues as one can get. Ike Turner and Sam Cooke were born there. Bessie Smith died on The Blues Highway nearby. John Lee Hooker, Muddy Waters, Son House, Sonny Boy Williamson, and many other greats from all over the Delta made their way there. Muddy waters first heard Robert Johnson play his devil’s instrument there. Today, it still has quite a few little blues clubs scattered around town. From Red’s Lounge, a longtime purveyor of the Blues, to Ground Zero, a club opened by actor Morgan Freeman, you can find the right place to listen to some local or regional blues musicians while drinking a nice cold one … or two. The week we were in Clarksdale, Robert Plant of Led Zeppelin fame was in town, not to play but just to listen. Clarksdale is also home to the Delta Blues Museum, where everything from the cabin where Muddy Waters lived during his days as a sharecropper to Son House’s steel guitar is on exhibit. And of course, you have to stop by The Crossroads. It’s not much of a going thing though,
not as much as you’d expect it to be. I actually had to stop a man on the street to get some kind of directions to find it. And he turned out to be the newly elected mayor of Clarksdale. I’m sure he is realizing that something as important to the city as The Crossroads may need to be a little more than just a signpost with a couple of guitars stuck on top. Once I found it, I realized I had ridden right by it the night before when we came into town for entertainment.
We stayed in Clarksdale for three nights. Since Jimmy had brought along his blues guitar all the way from the mountains of North Carolina, at night when we would return from town he would sit on the front porch of our Shack and play his own blues, while I would sit in my own rocking chair looking up at the same stars that Robert Johnson looked at, sipping on corn liquor from a mason jar that we brought along for the ride.
After the three nights in Clarksdale, we hopped back onto the Blues Highway and headed north to Memphis. One part of highway 61 north of Clarksdale has a very unique distinction. According to the Mississippi Department of Transportation, the longest stretch of highway in the U.S. with no horizontal or vertical curves is a nearly 30-mile stretch of the Blues Highway beginning just north of Clarksdale. Cotton and cornfields still dominate
the landscape for much of the ride but once you reach Tunica it starts to become very commercial, especially with the establishment of gambling casinos and the accompanying resorts. Other than the ride back home, the main part of our road trip was over once we reached Memphis. Although we still checked out a few bars and the downtown neon lights of Beale Street, we were starting to wind down from a very diverse travel. We did manage to find a state park just north of Memphis where I could literally put the rear tire of my Road King into the historical, mighty Mississippi River. I know it may sound silly, but just like going swimming in the Arctic Ocean like I did several years ago, some things you do just because you can. This was a road trip of culture, history, music, and art. We traveled from the country music capital of Nashville down the Natchez Trace Parkway to the Mississippi River. We rode the famous Blues Highway to the birthplace of the blues and the resting place of blues legend Robert Johnson. We walked under the neon lights of Beale Street and now it’s time to ride back home. But it was a hard thing to do. I think Jimmy and I both could have turned around and done the whole thing over again. And I have no doubt we will someday.
Craven Moorehead
In the beginning (of the summer) there was light
And then, the skies grew dark and angry rain and storms came down drenching us in voluminous amounts of water that seems to be incessant and often dangerous. No, this isn’t an adaptation, translation, or convolution of a scripture that could be found in the Bible; it is simply the observation of an old fool who has lived here in ‘paradise’ for many, many years. We all deal with it and in the summer sometimes daily, but when you are on your motorcycle it can often become quite dangerous at times. Historically the deluge starts at about the time when we are heading home from work. Despite having a nice rain suit, a (nonrequired) helmet and a set of self-cleaning goggles, the angry water can get so heavy that we often think that we should
just park somewhere and wait it out. But this alternative can in some cases become financially draining – especially if you decide to wait it out at the local gentlemen’s club or tavern. So, as a solution to the situation, I recently decided to add a snorkel to my rain attire so that I can strategically place it over my shoulder and behind my head so I don’t inhale a ton of rain and road backwash. Both are problematic and add to the misery of the otherwise enjoyable journey back home. I know – it’s just food for thought –but for some reason I believe it may just work. I will get back to you on this, or you can always reach out to me through the magazine, website, or radio show to tell me that my ideas are idiotic. It’s all good. We all need to think about being safe
out there on the road. It’s too bad that we have to share the road with people who have no consideration for others. Especially bikers. If I had one dollar for every time that I have heard “I didn’t see the motorcycle,” I would be a millionaire and not have to worry about trying to make a buck by working and such. I even tried playing the lottery. That never seems to play out too well, so that is likely the reason I call it a “stupid tax” and refuse to spend my last dollar to try to get lucky. I never expected to be rich anyhow, so I just keep dragging on and trying to buy groceries. I know that I am not the only one in this situation so we will all just keep keeping on. Speaking of keeping on. The only thing that’s worse than getting drenched every day is the impending possibility of doom due to the hurricane season. Should we be unfortunate enough to have a hurricane hit our precious state, the consequences could be dangerous and as you all know – historically disastrous. I remember years back when I wrote about my big hurricane parties fueled by lots of beer, wing restaurant girls, and the occasional employee of a gentlemen’s club. All that aside, it is truly a situation that can be at the very least – worrisome. I have a simple plan for evacuation should the worst happen: “Grab beer – run like hell” – it’s a plan that seems to make sense and will likely keep me protected from whatever impending disaster the storm brings. I typically won’t run away from a cat 1 or cat 2 hurricane but there is always a possibility of bad luck during this time of year. Just keep your eyes and ears open and do whatever is necessary to survive! The potential season only lasts for a few more months so for now, we can just pay our dues riding in the obligatory daily complementary bike wash. Just avoid the ‘spin cycle’ after the dry cycle. …
CHRISTINA MEET
BY DANIEL GALLANT
I’m Christina Tanner, born in Texas and now living in Valrico, Florida. As a massage therapist, I’m passionate about helping and healing others. I love motorcycles because they symbolize freedom, power, and independence. Qualities I carry into both my work and my life. My dream is to grow in wellness and creativity. And my passions for fitness, singing, and self-care keep me grounded, while motorcycles remind me to live boldly and stay true to myself.
This month’s movie is CC & Company starring Joe Namath and Ann Margret. Namath Plays C.C. Ryder, a former motorcycle mechanic who is a member of the “Heads” Motorcycle Club. Margret plays Ann, a fashion journalist. The flick opens with CC in a grocery store, as he cruises the aisles and makes a sandwich by removing this and that from shelves to assemble the sandwich on the child seating portion of the shopping cart. OOOH NOOO!
This may be the most dangerous part of the film! Can you imagine what sort of bacteria may exist on that little plastic seat? No telling what sort of soggy diaper may have been there just minutes before! Anyway, CC eats the sandwich, drinks a carton of milk, and throws away the evidence, before heading to checkout with a package of candy. Outside he dons his “colors” and rides off on a fairly cool looking shovel head chopper.
As usual in these “B or less” films, he meets up with his fellow gang members in the desert. As I said last month “It’s always in the desert.” As they cruise down a desert highway, they encounter a broken-down limo containing Ann. While CC looks over the engine compartment, a couple of his cohorts try to molest Ann in the back of the
Limo. CC rescues her by roughing up the guys, and begins a romantic connection with Ann, which is cut short by the arrival of a tow truck. Down the road a piece we meet up with Moon, who is the leader of the gang. He sits in a fancy chair, which the club mamas call the throne. Moon isn’t too happy with the mamas, and sends them out on a mission to get him more money. Moon’s whole gig seems to revolve around money, and the girls go out hitchhiking to collect some from whatever citizen or ‘Square’ they can find. Later in the evening they all reconvene at their campsite in the desert. Moon’s mama seems to have a thing for CC, but he pretty much has his sights set on Ann, and refuses her advances.
The next day, the Heads are cruising down the road when they come across a sign for a Moto-X race. The heads blow the gate and disrupt the motor-cross by riding their choppers around the track. Of course Ann is there with her photographer and some models, who are on the scene with a Kawasaki factory race team. As the shoot continues Ann and CC again have a conversation, and he plots a scheme to win her heart. The next morning he dupes a local dealer into selling him a Kawasaki
dirt bike. He hands the dealer an envelope with a five-dollar bill and an I.O.U. while he “test rides” the bike. Thirty seconds later he leaves the rear of the shop with the dirt bike tied to his sissy bar. The next Sunday, he enters the motor cross and on the last lap, he crashes out while running third. CC picks up the bike and carries it across the finish line to the delight of his fellow gang members and the crowd. Moon at this point says he’s disgusted with all the racing crap and some of the members leave with him. The Kawasaki factory rep is impressed with CC’s riding skills, and loans him a bike for the next race. At the end of the day he wins $600.00 and returns to the Head’s camp. CC gives money hungry Moon $500.00 and says he’s keeping a hundred for himself. As usual, a fight ensues and Moon takes the money from CC while he is recovering. Moon gives the money to his girl, and later that night she once again tries to get with CC. While he is kissing her, he takes all the money out of her pocket and he leaves the next day to find Ann.
Ann puts CC up in her mansion, and the typical romance carries on for a few days. That is until Moon and the Heads kidnap her. Moon demands $2,000.00 for her freedom, but CC challenges him to a flat-track race on their choppers. CC bargains for a loan on the phone, and promises the money will be paid back the same night. Later that evening the Heads break into a high school, and use the school’s track for the race. After a few minutes of some fairly good stunt riding, the scene shows Moon crashing through a fence and into a parked car which explodes in a fiery mess.
As the rest of the group runs to Moon, CC and Ann leave on his chopper. The song CC Ryder plays as they ride down the road. This film was made in 1970, runs 94 minutes and is currently available on DVD under the “Cheezy Flicks” Label. I must agree that it was one of the most cheesy biker exploitation pieces that I have ever seen. Poor lighting, dialogue, and flaky acting add to the mess. One thing that really turned me off was Namath’s constant referral to his chopper as a Honda. With no visible redeeming qualities, I could only give this one 2 stars, and that based on one or two fairly nice ‘period’ choppers.
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WANNA BE THE WET FUNKY COLORED CHICKEN?
Hey there my Born to Ride friends new and old. It’s that time of year Mother Nature ramps up another notch and starts kicking our butts. Between the heat, humidity, rain, thunder/lightning and the almighty hurricanes, all you humans have one eye on the weatherman and the other on the radar every day. Most rides, events, or festivals are somewhat controlled by the weather. I personally don’t mind it except for the thunder/lightning because my ancestors have survived for millions of years in this type of environment. So many times Mike and I have been on the scoot only to run into rain. All I wanna do is stay on the scoot and let the rain drops fall between my feathers while you and your friends run for cover.
Mike breaks in, “OK my wanna be wet funky colored chicken. We get it, you’re the only one that likes to ride in the rain. But I’m not gonna leave you on the bike when there’s lightning around. You could become fried chicken minus the coating mix. That would really upset your 36,000+ followers on Facebook.” I cackle, “yes and you would have 36,000+ haters! But, boy would there be one hell of a celebration of life for me! Speaking of passing on from this earthly existence to a place beyond, there
is someone near and dear to our hearts that is fighting stage four breast cancer to the end. It has spread throughout her body thus her demise is near and she wants to celebrate her life BEFORE that happens. Her name is Patrice Bergeron and she has been working biker events for over 32 years. Her latest cause is about breast cancer awareness.”
Mike breaks in, “Yes! You and I have been to several functions lately where she runs an adopt a duck booth. You remember, you got to hold your first two duckies while laying down in your talons, then I dressed them up and we donated to the cause. For more info check out her website; duckcancerwithpatrice.com or contact her directly;duckcancerwithpatrice@gmail.com for more information. Cancer is a brutal disease and has touched so many lives including your’s truly. People in and out of the biker community have been reaching out and touching her cause by helping anyway they can. The latest has been Jeremy at Lucky-U cycles in Wildwood.
October is breast cancer awareness month. On Saturday, October 4th from 11 to 5 he is throwing a Bikers for Boobies Bash at the
dealership. There is going to be live music, free beer, good vibes and saving lives. On that day people from all over will ride hard and fight harder.
We are going to raise money and a little hell in honor of Patrice. You and I will be there supporting the cause and saving the bras. It’s Patrices’ dying wish for a last planned ride before the sky. It will be put on by the Punishers 813 crew and the Four Kings. Kick stands up at 10:30 from the Panera bread in Lady Lake. Patrice, who’ll be riding on the back of a trike, will lead the ride through the villages ending up at Lucky-U cycles for the party. The ride is open to all bikers and cages. People can get more detailed information here; lastridebeforethesky@yahoo.com.”
I cackle, “Man Mike, that’s going to be one hell of a ride. I’m looking forward to riding this ride and seeing all those people building ducks for a lost loved one, a current fighter or a survivor that’s near and dear to their heart at Lucky-U cycles. I’m going to build one in honor of Patrice and in respect to her, you will mount it on the scoot so we can see it every time we ride!”
Mike, replies, “that’s the least we can do for her and the cause. You and I plan on making sure she’s not forgotten and will always be remembered for her courage, bravery and generosity to mankind.
You need to wrap this story up and I need to get the Fat Bird 3 out of the garage so we can pre-ride this run, while it’ not raining. Let’s get your wings in the wind, my knees under the triple trees, and the scoots’ wheels rolling down the road, in tribute to Patrice!”
CHRISTIAN MOTORCYCLISTS ASSOCIATION
It was time to sit down and write my thoughts for this month. My mind was racing and it was difficult to focus. I had my “to do lists”, I had events that had to be put on the calendar. The phone was ringing and the emails were coming in. I suddenly realized that I needed to go and get on my motorcycle and go and clear my head. Wind therapy is of great value. Walking out to the garage and pulling out that beautiful machine, I listened as the engine roared to life. I had nowhere to go. I just headed down the road.
The sun was setting behind the trees. The temperature was dropping. For a Monday night, the roads were almost empty and many of the stores in my small town were closed for the day. I was cruising effortlessly due to low traffic. It was incredibly peaceful. My mind was now focused on enjoying the ride. My lists and calendars were on the back burners. There was a peace that just permeated throughout my thoughts. That peace I experienced, brought to mind the true source of peace.” Where does our peace really come from?
When we lack peace we go to look for it somewhere. If we look in the wrong places we are not going to find it. Did you know that Jesus is referred to as the “Prince of Peace”. I know you have heard this verse during the Christmas Holidays. You will find it in Isaiah 9:6 “For a child is born to us, a son is given to us. The government will rest on his
shoulders. And he will be called: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace”. When Jesus came to earth He of course fulfilled this verse while talking to His disciples. Let’s read it together. John 14:27 “I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid”. Repeating the last part, it is a gift the world cannot give you. Where do you find peace? From the Prince of Peace. He is the only one who can give you this gift. If you are looking for peace, look in the right place. Seek after Jesus and His many gifts.
Teach’s Takeaway,
- Peace seems to be fleeting when looking in the wrong places.
- Seek after Jesus and He will meet you right where you are.
- Jesus, the Prince of Peace, gives peace as a gift.
Allow me to speak this blessing upon you today for the peace that you may be seeking; Numbers 6:24-26 ‘May the LORD bless you and protect you. May the LORD smile on you and be gracious to you. May the LORD show you his favor and give you his peace.’ May you ride in peace.
— Fellow Soldier in Christ, Wayne (Teach) Masiker Christian Motorcyclists Association wayne.masiker@att.net
