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
We
THE REAL DEAL BIKER DESTINATION!
STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT BIKER BASH COMING SOON!
I was born in Spanish Harlem and raised in the Bronx, and today I’m a husband, father, and proud rider in Tampa, Florida. I always dreamed of owning a Harley, and thanks to my friend Manny from Brandon Harley, I found the flat-denim Road King Special that became “Ugly Betty.” She started as a stock 2018 Road King Special, but I’ve added my own style: Cyclesmiths 18” apes, custom
floorboards built by my brother Nick, shredder grips, J&R air ride, progressive front suspension, Bamco gold hardware, DIY Cycles parts, Vity’s Design brass bits, and CMC upgrades. I ride her 80 miles a day, and she still makes me smile. Thanks to Ronnie at Born to Ride, my 813 Viclas brothers, Cyclesmiths for sponsoring us, Nick for helping me build this bike, and all my supporters.
PHOTOS BY: ERICK RUNYON
The Isle of Man is located in the Irish Sea between Great Britain and Ireland—and home to the one of the world’s most exciting races on two wheels. The history of the Isle of Man Tourist Trophy (IOM TT) race goes back to 1907, when the first race was run as the International AutoCycle Tourist Trophy. There were 25 entries featuring two classes—a single-cycler class and a twin-cylinder class. The first race was 10 laps on the 15-mile long dirt road course (now one lap is 37 3/4-miles long). The winner’s averaged speed was 43mph; he rode a twin cylinder Norton.
The IOM TT is the race many motorcycle road racers dream about ... it’s not for the timid or the unskilled. Every summer, the isle’s governing bodies close the public roads and streets for race teams and individuals from around the world participate in the world’s deadliest race on the planet—racing through three small towns and over mountainous roads. There are six classifications: Senior TT, Supersport Junior TT, TT Sidecar, TT Superbike, TT Superstock, and TTXGP. The rider’s bike classification will deem how many laps are run on the course. Riders come to the isle for different reasons: some come to test their skill, some come for fame, and some come for glory. In the end—they come to run the timed 37 3/4-mile course! To find out more about the Isle of Man TT go to http://www.iomtt.com. In February 1974, the AMA Competition Director contacted us. He told us that because we were the top American Sidecar team in the Sidecar Racers Association, the AMA would give us the only IOMTT entry they were given for the 1974 races. However, this was only an entry with no sponsors. We would have to pay for everything ourselves. We jumped at the chance to go to England
and race the TT.
We started sidecar racing in 1970 on a very old sidecar outfit. Early in 1973, we purchased a new, custom-made racing sidecar chassis from England. It was one of the best handling models available. When you buy one of these, all you get is the frame, wheels, tires, brakes, and fiberglass body. You must install your own engine, cables, and wiring. In our case, I choose a 1972 BSA 3-cylinder 750cc engine. We had to weld in all the motor mounts, make an oil tank, exhaust system, and shift linkage. The new outfit made the difference between finishing in the middle of the pack and winning. We filled out the forms and mailed them to the IOMTT, England. A few weeks later, we received a letter that said we were accepted. Now the fun starts. In 1974, there were NO sponsors ready to pay our way, so we set about planning the trip. A couple of the sidecar teams we raced against here in the SRA were from the Isle of Man, so they helped a lot. A racing sidecar outfit does NOT come apart. It is a one-piece frame including the sidecar, so I had to build a LARGE crate in which to ship the bike to England by airfreight. Next was booking airline reservations, hotel rooms, and a spot in a local garage for the bike. There were no garages at the track. We found space in a local auto repair garage along with several other riders.
Finally, we are on our way. When we got to the Isle of Man, we checked into our hotel. We headed straight to the garage where the bike was shipped. To my surprise, the bike was not there. It was back at the airport in Liverpool, 100 miles back across the Irish Sea. They could not load the crate into the plane. If I could not fix the problem, I would have to reassemble the bike and ride to the ferryboat dock to get
it over to the IOMTT. I knew they would do everything they could to help me race. I did not come all this way to be stopped here! At the airport, I looked at the plane and told them to stand the crate on its side, as I knew that would not hurt anything, and just slide it into the plane. The next day the crate was at the garage.
The entry only guaranteed us an opportunity to Qualify for the 750cc sidecar class race. During practice week, we would be on the track for 1 1/2 hours in the morning and again in the afternoon. To qualify you must post lap times under 33 minutes. Our first lap around seemed like it took us a really long time, but it was around 35 minutes. By the end of practice week, we were very low 29-minute times. One problem I was experiencing was trying to see far down the road. The roads are narrow two-lane public country roads, and they have many deep dips in them. When you are riding a racing sidecar outfit, you are riding in the kneeling position very low to the ground. When we would go into one of these dips, I would lose sight of the road ahead, which means I could not see the curve a short distance ahead. When you are on a motorcycle, you sit up higher and can see these curves. When you are racing at very high speeds and cannot see the curves coming, you need to be a little more cautious. It was very difficult to learn the hundreds of bends and turns that made up the 37 3/4-miles around the IOMTT course. Our race was scheduled for Saturday and consisted of three laps, 114 miles. Saturday morning there was heavy fog on the mountain section of the course, so the race was moved to Monday. Sunday there is no practice scheduled because it is MAD SUNDAY. They open the course to the spectators to ride and play IOMTT racer. There are about 100,000 spectators, most with their motorcycles there to watch the race. So the name Mad Sunday fits. Monday dawned clear and warm. All the sidecars had to be placed in the pits on Sunday night and had to be race ready at that time. We went to the pits early to warm up our engine and get our racing leathers on. Then the horn sounded the signal to get in your starting position. The racers line up in pairs.
Each pair starts 10 seconds apart. At the IOMTT, you race against the clock. As we moved toward the starting line, on the side of the road were Boy Scouts holding the flags of the countries entered in this race. The American flag was there for us. When I realized the American flag was there for us, I took a deep breath of pride knowing we were there representing the USA. It was like going to the Olympics. Before we arrived at the starting line, 74 other sidecar racers had started their race. Please note, in the years up to about 1980, all road races were started with engine off, push/bump starts for both solo and sidecar classes. As we approach the starting line, we grabbed hands—looked at each other and nodded we were ready. Engine off, ignition on, transmission in first gear, the starter waves the flag and we were off. She takes two steps, and I take three. I release the clutch—the engine starts and we roar down Glencrutchery Road and down Bray Hill to the first turn, Quarter Bridge. On lap one, 17 miles out we fly over the jump at Ballugh Bridge. A little over 24 miles out, we approach the Ramsey Hairpin corner. This is a very tight, first gear, left hand corner. I glance at the crowd and the flagman. Alma moves out, hanging on firmly because I am on the breaks hard. We round the apex of the corner, I start to accelerate and all of sudden the bike snaps around. The passenger’s side flips up throwing Alma over me and knocking us off the bike. The bike falls back on its wheels and stops. We scramble to our feet, I look at her, she gives me thumbs up, she is ok—and so am I. I quickly look over the bike and everything looks ok. So we push the bike and the engine restarts, we are off again. On the second lap as we approach the Ramsey Hairpin and the flagman was waving the warning flag for “Oil on Track,” I gave him a one-finger wave. The remaining laps went without any problems. As we exited the last corner and headed toward the finish line, I was very proud of our accomplishment. We were told that less than 10% of the rookies finish their first IOMTT. After starting 76th, we were both happy with our 30th place finish. Over the years, I come to realize that our experience was similar to going to the Olympics—just
to have the opportunity to compete at that level was worth the trip We continued racing in the Midwest and Canada until 1982. Over the years, we won many races and two championships and had a hell of a fun time racing! The sidecar racing started one at the races in Canada. After I had finished my race, we went over to a nearby corner to watch the sidecars run. We were watching these guys going around when Alma said, “That looks like a lot fun.” I agreed they look like they were having a great time. And to my surprise she said, “Let’s get one, and I will be the passenger and you can drive.” I answered yes.
Later she was telling some of our racing friends about what she was going to do, they said she was crazy and she would never have the guts to do that. Her answer was, “Put your money where your mouth is!” She won and collected. I never had any doubt. Oh yes, she also won the rookie passenger of the year award from the Sidecar Racers Association. She was a very dynamic person, that’s what I loved about her. When she got into something, she was in 100 percent. When she wanted something, she went after it—even me. She picked me out of a crowd at a bike event and said to a girlfriend, “he is the one I want.” Now the question was, how she was going to let me catch her—a blind date. She knew a few members of the Detroit Highwaymen—I was a member. So with a little help from my friends, the rest is history. Thirty years later, she told me all about it.
For the ladies reading this, she would tell you, go after the things that you want. In many cases, you will have only one chance to get it. She took no chances on gifts; she gave me her list. And ladies, don’t hope or hint about what you want, he will never get the message, tell him. Alma and I were married 38 years; she passed away in September of 2006 after fighting ovarian cancer. She loved life, going places, and doing things together. She wrote me a letter a few days before she died and ended it by saying, “We had a Great Ride.” It was true, we did
have a great ride, and this story is dedicated to my sidecar passenger! Joseph Rocheleau
After all this great reading and photo look back to the IOM TT, I can’t thank Joe enough for sharing his story with us. This is real; it’s old school. The bond between him and his wife Alma racing together goes beyond the power of motorcycles. It is life, it is love; it is a relationship that we all can learn from and be inspired by. Just when you think it’s over, it’s not over because ace Journalist Scott Odell went to the Isle of Man the summer of 2013 after this story ran to cover the race for Born To Ride. So in this issue, we’re seeing 1974 to 2013 and 2015 with Alain Bernards tribute Ducati to the Isle of Man all in this issue.
We can’t Thank Joseph Rocheleau enough for sharing his wonderful story with us.
Craven Moorehead
CHRISTMAS
Well, I made it through Thanksgiving, Black Friday, Small Business Saturday and most of Cyber Monday. This was an easy task largely because I had no money to waste on things that I don’t really need. Although the desire is there to spend on the people I care about, it is an impossible feat without the necessary funds. Commercialism aside, there are a lot of valid reasons to enjoy this time of year. If you ignore all the ads, come-ons and deals you can’t live without and then simply focus on what you do have – and not what you want, a certain sort of peace will come over the chaos that roars on in your head and heart. It’s okay to want things, but if you cannot afford those things it’s better to just forget about it and move on. It seems to work well for me, but I’m not suggesting that you should think the way that I do. After all, it is a dark and disturbing place in what remains of my mind!
Originally, we were all taught that Christmas is the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ. Although the census among the scientific community suggests that the event didn’t really happen during the winter, if it happened at all. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion and the ability to practice their own religion. Scientists do not profit at this time of year but the commercial entities certainly do. Some of us simply try to remember the story as told in the Bible and let that be profit enough. (It took me several minutes to decide not to use the word ‘prophet’ in that sentence, instead of profit – levity resides in the aforementioned ‘dark’ areas of my mind.) Although it’s difficult to be comedic at times, if you are me then it just sort of rolls out usually to the disdain of those listening. Thankfully for you, my dedicated readers, you don’t have to hear all the crap because you simply read whatever drivel I put in this column - or you just put it down and not read it – and then make colorful comments about my existence. It’s okay. I’m used to it. …
I think as we get older, some of the magic and mystery of Christmas sort of fades away. The beauty and meaning of the holiday; however, seems to be intensified the farther you progress in life. Once you get past 6 or 7 years old, you begin to not believe in Santa Claus and begin believing in Amazon.com. … I, however, still believe in Santa Claus because every time my dogs come back into the house from the yard they have sandy claws. Plus, I know for a fact that Santa frequents the Gentlemen’s Clubs. I have actually seen him there. Although he didn’t have on the red suit, I knew it was him because he kept bellowing out “Ho Ho Ho” and throwing cash around. The unmistakable long white beard and rosy-red face couldn’t have been attributed to the double vodkas he was drinking, could it? I used to think he only liked eggnog and cookies, and then I remembered that most of the eggnog that I have consumed contained a fairly good amount of alcohol. So, whether you believe in Santa or not, I suppose that it doesn’t really matter. I mean after all, everyone needs to have something to believe in, so I believe I will have another beer!
This particular holiday has a lot of different meanings to a variety of people. I certainly do enjoy it, and of course it would be a lot more fun if I had some cash – but I never worry. I just wish everyone peace on Christmas and remember to do something nice for folks that need it. As bikers, we know how much love is spread around this time of year for those in need. Countless toyruns charitable poker runs and other events are occurring as we speak, and there are scant few days before the actual celebration of Christmas arrives. I appreciate all the efforts of those that give back to the community from behind this keyboard and it’s a blessing that this old-parts computer is still serving me well enough to allow me to send this important message to my readers. Anyhow, don’t think that I am nuts because I still believe in Christ and still give all I have. I also believe that Christmas itself brings people together and when people get together, great things happen! Just remember what the true meaning of this holiday is and do your best to enjoy it! Remember, just a few days after all the presents are unwrapped and the turkey is eaten, we once again gather together to celebrate the arrival of a new year. This is another great holiday because the new year often brings hope and prosperity to those that don’t wake up with a horrible hangover. When we make all those resolutions that we never keep, we can always remember the great times we had with family and friends during this wonderful season. And then, it’s back to work! May God bless you and all your people during this most joyous time of year! Hey! See ya’ll next year and until thenspeed safely!!
WHAT THE NEW YEAR BRINGS IS ANYONE’S GUESS
Welcome to December, everyone. The holiday season is in full swing, and before we know it, we’ll be stepping into a brandnew year. What the new year brings is anyone’s guess—but before we get there, I want to pause and reflect on something I observed recently, something that left me more disappointed than I expected. After a long break from the rally circuit, I decided to venture back out into the world of motorcycle events this week. I went with an open mind and my usual curiosity —the kind that comes from knowing you’re about to be surrounded by camaraderie, and a culture that has always felt like home. But what I found wasn’t quite the biker lifestyle I remembered. In many ways, it felt like a reflection of how much the times have changed—and not necessarily for the better. What struck me first was how commercialized everything seemed. Once upon a time, events like these were about celebrating the freedom of the road, the rumble of an engine, the bond between riders, and the creativity poured into each machine. But now, vendor rows are dominated by businesses catering almost exclusively to bagger riders, high-end sound-system fanatics, and a collection of side hustles that feel more like a flea market than a grassroots gathering. The soul of the event—the raw, unpolished biker spirit—felt overshadowed by glossy pop-up boutiques and sales pitches. The shift in the crowd was just as noticeable. Many attendees seemed more focused on fashion statements than the ride itself. Leather swapped for labels. Function replaced by flash. It was less about the miles you’ve ridden and
more about the image you projected. The parking lots, once filled with road-scarred iron that told stories through every dent and weld, now gleamed with show bikes curated for Instagram more than asphalt. Even the atmosphere felt different. Where once there was an easygoing, lighthearted vibe—the kind of environment where you could share a beer with a stranger and leave with a new friend—now there seemed to be a subtle pressure. A focus on spectacle rather than camaraderie. Add to that the overpriced drinks, overpriced food, and the overall commercial polish, and it was hard
“Leather swapped for labels. Function replaced by flash. It was less about the miles you’ve ridden and more about the image you projected. ”
not to feel like I was attending a festival designed to extract money rather than celebrate a lifestyle. What I missed most was the craftsmanship. I remember admiring bikes built by riders who poured their souls into one-off parts—pieces you couldn’t buy, only create. There’s something special about seeing a bike that reflects the hands and heart of its owner, not the pages of a
catalog. Fabrication wasn’t a hobby; it was an identity. Each weld, each improvised fix on the side of the road, each custom bracket or handmade tank spoke volumes about a rider’s pride, skill, and stubborn determination. And let’s not forget the old unwritten code: You break down, you fix it, and you continue your journey. There was no dealership dependency, no surrendering your machine to a service department because a warning light came on. Riders carried their own tools, their own knowledge, and their own grit. There was something honorable in that kind of self-reliance— something that feels increasingly rare today. Maybe I’m nostalgic. Maybe time has moved on and taken parts of the culture with it. But I can’t help missing the days when events were less polished and more personal. When a handshake meant more than a branded tent. When riders built, repaired, and rode their machines not because it was trendy, but because it was who they were. As the year winds down, I hope we can find a way back to that spirit. Back to the brotherhood, the creativity, the freedom, and the authenticity that made the biker lifestyle what it was—and what it still can be, if we choose to preserve it. I for one am set in my ways and although open minded, still wish other generations could enjoy a part of what some of us experienced. It would be a loss to us all for that part of a cultures history to fade away. Ride safe and enjoy your lives to the fullest. Maybe see you out there.
— Nefarious James American Patriot
“The Tank Whisperer“
STAN TOMES’ 1977 CONE SHOVEL
When we put the word out that Born To Ride was lookin’ for Reader’s Rides to showcase in the magazine, Stan Tomes, also known as Stanimal, was one of the first guys to send me an email. Stan and his bride Cookie, live in Inglis, Florida, and enjoy puttin’ year ‘round. Stanimal was a Union Carpenter before retiring a few years ago. He has owned three different Shovelheads over the years but tells us that this 1977 Harley has gone through many different looks since he bought it from the original owner back in 1983. “It was a bone stock FXE Super Glide when I bought it,” Stanimal says. Over the years he has had the bike down to the bare frame eight times. “It was an FL style for years,” he tells us. “And a paint has been stock black, then midnight blue, then candy apple red, then all white and now this silver/blue.”
Speaking of the paint job, Stan’s good friend Darby Houser handled
those chores, spraying this unique silvery blue on the scootera’s tank and fenders. Sadly, Darby was killed in a hit and run accident in June of this year but Stan tells us he would have been very proud to have the bike featured in a magazine.
The frame is powdercoated and that’s an Ultra Wide Glide front end under 14-inch apehangers that Stan found at a swapmeet. The solo seat was covered 15 years ago and still looks mighty sweet. Stanimal made the exhaust pipes which include a four-inch baffle kit. The motor has been beefed up with Delkron cases, 80-inch flywheels, and an 88-dual plug top end with solid lifters. Stan says it is still very responsive and he rides it every week.
Over the years this proud owner has massaged, tweaked, replaced or made every single part on the Shovel. For instance, he made the rear fender out of two Heritage Softail fenders to get the look he was going for. The bike has appeared in three local shows and placed at all of them. “It’s fun when I kickstart this bike and all the young riders come around to watch,” Stanimal grins. “They’ve probably never seen that before. This thing don’t have an electric start and at 67-years-old, that’s pretty good.”
When asked his advice for new riders, Stanimal told us, “No matter what brand bike it is, find something you are comfortable on and enjoy it. Just get out there and ride.” When we called Stan for this interview he was working on his 1973 Sportster. You might just see it in these pages in the months to come.
If you have a bike you’d like to see here in Born To Ride, email several photos of you and the bike (300dpi) to editor@borntoride.com.
— Chopper Daddy Dave
JULIE MARIE MEET
My name is Julie Marie and I am excited to be featured in BTR magazine for my second time this year. I truly appreciate all the love and support the biker community has shown me. I’m so grateful to work as an actress, model, spokesperson, dance artist, and ring girl.
This month, it’s “Wild Hogs” starring Tim Allen, John Travolta, Martin Lawrence and William H. Macy. The film was released in 2007, and as far ‘biker exploitation films’ go, I suppose that definition probably doesn’t really fit. It is however “wildly” entertaining if you are a comedy fanatic, or middle-aged gay basher. The story centers around four middle-aged businessmen who bored with their regular suburban lives, embark on a road trip on their Harleys. Doug (Tim Allen) is a dentist; Bobby (Martin Lawrence) is a plumber; Woody (Travolta) is a bankrupt husband of a swimsuit model, who is divorcing him. Dudley (Macy) is a computer geek, who seeks the companionship of a woman (possibly his first experience) and constantly falls of his motorcycle in some very well performed stunt work. The action, the sets, and riding footage were quite good. The acting was dramatic at times, but continues to make the four look way too “Rubbie” to be realistic. The overuse of gay references became redundant to a point, but overall it remained funny I guess.
The road trip is filled with humorous moments, such as the four sleeping close together scantily clad, after burning their tent down and being discovered by a policeman who is overtly gay, and actually jealous of their situation. A little farther down the road, the four are skinny-dipping in a pond when a traveling family joins them. The family discovers their state of undress while searching for crawdads, and later by the very same – very gay –and very naked policeman. The Hogs escape from the pond on their motorcycles, and during one of their frequent urination stops, they watch in awe as a large group of bikers pass by. This group was the Del Fuegos Motorcycle Club, and the Hogs meet them later down the road at their “Biker Bar” Clubhouse. This meeting goes bad of course, and Dudley ends up losing his motorcycle to “Jack” (Ray Liotta) who is the club’s president. The Hogs are ridiculed and sent down the road with Dudley in tow in a sidecar
Movie Review
attached to Woody’s motorcycle. Less than a mile down the road, Woody decides to walk back to the biker bar and retrieve Dudley’s bike. As the others wait beside the highway, Woody sneaks up, cuts the fuel lines on several of the club’s bikes, and takes off on Dudley’s bike. When Jack discovers the bike missing, the club fires up to give chase, but their pursuit is halted when Jack discards his cigarette into a puddle of gas, which causes their (clubhouse) building to explode and burn to the ground. Meanwhile Woody returns to the trio with Dudley’s bike and to their surprise spins a tale of threatening the club with legal action. The 4 Hogs ride by the bar waving and Woody gives them the finger just before the whole place blows up. Seeing the massive explosion in his rearview mirror, Woody refuses to stop – even for gas- and the Hogs end up pushing their motorcycles through the desert, where they end up in the small town of Madrid.
In Madrid, the Hogs have to stay the night to wait for the gas station to open. The Sheriff mistakes the four for Del Fuegos members. He tells them the club members terrorize the town frequently. He explains the small police force (who received weapons training by playing the video game Doom) is unable to do anything about them.
Meanwhile Jack sends his members out in pairs to locate the Hogs. The Madrid chili festival is held that night and Dudley furthers his interest in Maggie (Marisa Tomei) who owns the local diner. As he courts her, Bobby comes across two Del Fuegos in town. Because of Woody’s previous explanation and believing that he is untouchable, Bobby humiliates the two bikers by squirting them with ketchup and mustard. Under orders from Jack, the two club members refuse to do anything and Bobby appears to win this battle. The town praises the Wild Hogs as saviors, considering them a friendly biker gang who can protect them. They are appreciative to the point that Dudley spends the night with Maggie. The next morning the Del Fuegos ride into town 50 strong. Jack yells to the townspeople that his gang will vandalize the town, starting with the diner, until the Wild Hogs come out to fight. Woody reveals his lie about the biker bar incident, and the Hogs hide inside Maggie’s house with the local Sheriff. As they peer out the window, Dudley walks out alone to face the gang, armed only with a tire iron. They tape him up and hang him from a tree like a piñata. Doug launches a plan to rescue him and he is able to convince the other two to help. After the failed attempt, the Hogs decide to fight the club in front of the diner. The Fight is 4 on 4 with the Hogs taking repeated beatings. Refusing to quit, the Hogs get back up and challenge the club once more, but this time the entire town comes to back them up. Armed with axe handles, sticks and the like, Jack laughs and refers to them as the children of the corn. At this moment the Del Fuegos founder Damien Blade (Peter Fonda) arrives on the scene. Blade chastises Jack and the Del Fuegos for picking on four men and the townspeople, and reveals he actually thought his bar was a “S#!tHOLE” and explained that he insured the bar for twice what it was worth. Now we also learn that Jack is Damien’s son, and he points out to Jack how he forgot what being out on the open road is about and that it doesn’t involve thuggish behavior and violence. The gang soon departs, and the Hogs are again heroes. That is until the Doug and Bobby’s wives arrive in town! After a brief reconciliation, the Hogs venture out to their original destination, the Pacific Coast. I would give it 3 out of 5 stars for a good effort at wasting an hour and a half of my time.
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End of an Era – When One Door Closes, the Open Road Calls
Every rider knows that the road can change in an instant. One moment you’re cruising smooth and steady, the next you’re thrown a curve that tests everything you thought you knew about control. That’s how it felt when a chapter of my creative life suddenly came to an end — and the next adventure began.
For years, my brush and I have lived on the move, painting pinstripes, murals, and stories that connect people to something deeper. But when the world around me shifted, I had to do what every true road warrior does — downshift, lean in, and find my balance again.
I packed my kit, fired up my rig, and hit the highway with no map except the one written in my heart. Along the way, I discovered something that every rider already understands: freedom isn’t found in a destination — it’s in motion. Each town, rally, and backroad café became another classroom for life’s lessons — trust the curve, embrace the weather, and don’t be afraid to start fresh.
The horses I once trained taught me grace and patience. The
motorcycles I paint and ride remind me that power means nothing without control — and art, like riding, is a dance between spirit and steel.
I’ve learned that endings aren’t losses. They’re launches. Every time I roll onto the next highway, I find a new chance to connect — with people, with purpose, and with the pulse of something divine humming beneath the asphalt.
So if life throws you a curve, don’t fight it. Twist the throttle, look through the turn, and trust where it’s leading. The road will always reveal what’s next — if you’ve got the courage to keep riding.
Be Good, Be Well, and Ride Safe — Dave “Letterfly” Knoderer
Did you know I wrote another book?
BORN TO RIDE Magazine
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Ron
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WELCOME TO TURKEYVEMBER!
T’is the season to be giving my Born to Ride friends. For Christmas this year I saved all money and spent it on Mike and Marilyn to show them how much I love them. But unfortunately, I don’t think they took it that way.
Here, I’ll let you read their notes to me and you be the judge.
Dec. 14th Dearest Spyke:
Marilyn went to the door today and a little old lady from the post office delivered a partridge in a pear tree. What a wonderful present! We couldn’t have been more surprised with the gift of your cousin and a fruit tree. With ultimate love and affection, — Mike and Marilyn
Dec. 15th Oh wonderful Spyke:
Today a courier on a bicycle brought your very sweet gift; two turtle doves! We’re unbelievably delighted at your very thoughtful present. They are so adorable. We really feel the love you send in your gifts. All of our affection, — Mike and Marilyn
Dec. 16th Beloved Spyke:
Oh, aren’t you the extravagant parrot. Now we must protest. We don’t deserve such generosity but three French hens? They are just darling, but we insist... you are way too kind with your feathered cousins. All our love, — Mike and Marilyn
Dec. 17th Sweetest Spyke:
Today the UPS guy delivered four calling birds. Now really! They are so beautiful,
but don’t you think enough is enough? We believe you are being too romantic and we are getting annoyed with your noisy flying cousins. Affectionately, — Mike and Marilyn
Dec. 18th Overwhelming Spyke:
What a surprise! Today a Brink’s truck delivered five golden rings. One for each of Marilyn’s fingers. I think this morning you’re just unbelievable and Marilyn loves it. But frankly Spyke, all those squawking birds are getting on our nerves! Love, — Mike and Marilyn
Dec. 19th Dear Spyke:
When Marilyn opened the door there were actually six geese-a-laying on the front steps. So you’re back to the birds again, huh? Those geese are huge! Where will we ever keep them? The cops came by and told us that our neighbors are complaining that we’re screaming at each other over all the racket. PLEASE STOP or Marilyn will start frying them! Cordially, — Mike and Marilyn
Dec.20 Spyke:
What is with you and those fu**ing birds??? Seven swans-a-swimming? What kind of screwed up joke is this? I just cleaned the pool and now it’s full of feathers and there’s birdshit all over the lanai. Plus they’re cackling has made us deaf. Marilyn is a nervous wreck and I don’t sleep at night. IT’S NOT FUNNY ANYMORE. You’ve become a freak of nature so... stop with those fu**cking birds! — Mike and Marilyn
Dec. 21st Ok birdbrain:
What the hell are we going to do with eight maids-a-milking??? Like it’s not enough we got all these birds and maid’s milking, they had to bring their own stinking cows! There are now cow patties all over the lawn and we can’t move around in our own house. Just lay off us you smart ass bird! WTF?
—Mike and Marilyn
Dec. 22nd Hey poop for brains!: What are you some kind of sadist? Is this your new fetish? Now there are nine Pipers playing and holy moly do they play! They haven’t stopped chasing those maids since they got here yesterday morning. This has made the cows upset and they are stepping all over those screeching birds---and oh God how they screech! They make you sound like a parakeet chirping. What are we going to do? The neighbors have started a
petition to evict us. Marilyn says; “you’ll get yours!” — From Mike
Dec. 23rd You rotten foul:
Now there are 10 ladies dancing and they got no clothes on. Marilyn calls these ladies ‘sluts’. They’ve been messing around with the nine Piper’s all night long. Now the cows can’t sleep and they’ve got diarrhea. The living room is a river of poop. The health inspector has subpoenaed us to give cause why our house shouldn’t be condemned. I can’t take it any more and Marilyn has called the game warden on you. A couple who means it, — Mike and Marilyn
Dec. 24th Listen you freak of nature: What’s with the 11 lords-a-leaping on those maids and naked ladies? Those pipers ran through the maids and have been committing sodomy with the cows. All 234 birds are dead! They were trampled to death in the orgy. We are at our wits end. I hope you’re satisfied, you evil feathered vertebrae. Your sworn enemies, — Mike and Marilyn
Dec. 25th From the Pinellas County sheriffs office: Attention the parrot aka Spyke Mularz:
This is to acknowledge the delivery of your latest gift; 12 fiddlers fiddling which you have seen fit to inflict on Mike and Marilyn. Those individuals have barely survived the destruction of their house that has been deemed a total loss. The property is now condemned and those two have been taken away in straight jackets. All correspondence will be forwarded to our attention. If you should attempt to approach Mike and Marilyn at the insane asylum, the guards have instructions to shoot first cook later. With this letter, please find the attached warrant for your arrest and basting/cooking instructions. With you in my sights: — Sheriff Bob Gualtieri
Well there you go, my Born to Ride friends. It doesn’t look like this will be there most happiest holiday season. I really was just trying to be nice. Now this makes me wonder what to get them next year for Christmas... I’ll have to call Kevin, one of Mike’s best friends to come over and get the scoot out of the garage. I need a ride to the beach to pose for my Christmas card. I trust him to get my wings in the wind, his knees under the keys and the Fat Birds’ wheels rolling down the road. — SPYKE
CHRISTIAN MOTORCYCLISTS ASSOCIATION
We live in a time of information outpouring like never before. There are so many things I don’t know. I purchased a new bike with lots of features. There are many features I know about my bike but, there are a lot of things about this new bike that I just don’t know. My ride has a full digital screen with lots of options I have not used. I have buttons and toggles on the handle bars with symbols that are unfamiliar. Now, I know that I can spend time reading the manual to learn about everything that this motorcycle can do. I can also ask respected friends about the features my bike has. As I enter these conversations the sentence that I will hear the most starts with “Did You Know…” For example, Did you know that your bike has three drive modes - fast, regular, and rainy/slippery? I like thinking about the different things I am learning when the sentence starts with “Did you Know”.
I am reminded about a song during the Christmas season with a similar theme. This song was written by Mark Lowry in 1984. The song is entitled “Mary, Did You Know”. The lyrics describe the perfect gift given from heaven during the Christmas season asking the question “did you know”. Let’s look at it together.
Mary, did you know that your baby boy will one day walk on water? Mary, did you know that your baby boy will save
our sons and daughters? Did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new? This child that you've delivered will soon deliver you Mary, did you know that your baby boy will give sight to a blind man? Mary, did you know that your baby boy will calm a storm with His hand? Did you know that your baby boy has walked where angels trod? And when you kiss your little baby you' I’ve kissed the face of God Mary, did you know? Mary, did you know that your baby boy is Lord of all creation? Mary, did you know that your baby boy will one day rule the nations? Did you know that your baby boy is heaven's perfect Lamb? This sleeping child you're holding is the “Great I Am”.
May we rest this season “Knowing” the greatest gift ever given came as a little baby boy some two thousand years ago. As we spend time with our friends and family, consider the reason for this season. Listen to the story that starts with “Did you Know”. If you didn’t know, let this be the time that you get to know your Heavenly Father who sent His one and only son, Jesus, to die on the cross for us so we may have eternal life. Receive your gift of salvation through Jesus right now.
Merry Christmas to you and yours. Ride together, ride safe, and ride on.
— Fellow Soldier in Christ, Wayne (Teach) Masiker Christian Motorcyclists Association wayne.masiker@att.net
