Motorcycle Therapy for Veterans
We got the text from Chet a few days ago: “North Fork. You in?”
We knew exactly what that meant: a ride to North Fork BBQ—Marine veteran Trevor Seward’s place. A family joint with awards that prove the barbecue is some of the best in the nation. But it’s more than food. Inside, every wall carries a story—decades of military memorabilia Trevor has collected, each piece belonging to someone who wore the uniform. Out front, the Battlefield Cross—boots, rifle, helmet—stands guard. The kind of sight that makes you pause and carry yourself taller, remembering who you’re really riding for.
But first, we had to get there. We met up at the gas station—five bikes and a passenger—already sweating under the Lemoore sun by 10 a.m. (alright, 10:15, I was late). My shirt was glued to my back under my vest, the heat pushing
down before the ride even started. Chet led point, Vicky riding behind him. Slingblade sat in second, I was third, Babs behind me, Gonzo pulling sweep. That’s family. Being surrounded, knowing that my life is in their hands and theirs in mine. It’s unspoken, but it’s everything: no distractions, no drifting thoughts. Out here, trust is sacred.
Kickstands up, engines growling, we pointed north and let the road take over. Highway 41 stretched wide and straight under the relentless valley sun. The hum of the engines, music in my helmet, the air burning my skin—this is what it feels like when the weight of the week shakes off and freedom starts to seep in. Out there, you realize again why you ride. For a lot of us, the throttle isn’t just about the miles—it’s our breath. Our reason to stay.
By the time we smelled the smoker drifting down the road, we knew we were close. That smell alone could make you hungry from a mile away. North Fork BBQ didn’t disappoint. Babs and I split a platter stacked high: ribs, tri-tip, jalapeño cheddar sausage, macaroni and cheese, beans (they’ve got some kick!), and potato salad to cool it all down. Gonzo went big—double cheeseburger—and we all figured we’d have to leave him behind to hibernate. The laughter rolled as fast as the food disappeared.
After we’d eaten, we drifted down the street to the Buckhorn Saloon. It’s the kind of place that knows you by the sound of pipes before you even step in. The bartender called out a hello before we’d even made it through the door. We grabbed our drinks and headed to the front patio. The whole place has this hand-carved feel to it; the bar built right into the railing with stools running the length of the building. Fully covered, but you still feel the heavy summer air pressing down. Out front, the road is painted with green Bigfoot prints that lead through town for their jamboree.
I’ve never done jamboree, but from what I hear, it’s a hoot. Maybe next year.
The Buckhorn will also be an important stop on the upcoming Veterans Ride, and sitting there with a cold drink in hand made it easy to imagine how the place will look when that day comes.
The vibe on the patio was all smiles and easy conversation, until some riders went to roll out and found themselves in a bind—locked handlebars. Run roh. A few of us wandered over to help,
Sarah Jackman WRITER
2
The Magic of the Teddy Bear Ride By Sarah Jackman
Motorcycle Therapy for Veterans
5 CC Biker Directory PAGE 6
The Magic of the Teddy Bear Ride CONTINUED
PAGES 7-8
Riding for Veterans:
The 7th Annual CVMA® Veterans Run By Sarah Jackman
veteran owned and operated CC BIKER & MOTORSPORTS
We are an Information Guide for Biker and Motorsports in the Central Valley of California
CC Biker & Motorsports was started March 2016 www.facebook.com/ccbikerandmotorsports
You can read our current edition or take the time and read them all from March 2016 until now!!! https://issuu.com/ccbikerandmotorsports
Editor
Richard Tilley
559-572-3573 richardccbiker@gmail.com
Writers
Richard Tilley
Danelle Brown
Gary Roberts
HELLDOG
Sarah Jackman
Photography
Richard Tilley
Danelle Brown
Gary Roberts
Dallas Poore
Live Streaming & Photography
Jamie Godfrey
Graphic Design
Jennifer Turk
jenhturk@gmail.com
Sales
Richard Tilley
559-572-3573
richardccbiker@gmail.com
The Magic of the Teddy Bear Ride
Some rides are remembered for the miles. Others for the way they make you feel. The Teddy Bear Ride belongs to the second kind. It starts, not with the roar of engines, but with a bear. Howie isn’t just any bear — he’s an oversized mascot with a grin as wide as the Central Valley sky, and the heart of Howard’s Battle Buddies, a program of Warriors of the Wind. Perched on a motorcycle seat at the head of the line, he’s impossible to miss, and impossible not to love. Wherever Howie goes, he carries the story with him.
The morning begins at LifeWay Church, where riders gather close and bow their heads. Before a single wheel turns, the run begins with a blessing — for guidance on the road, for the safety of the riders, and for the children waiting at Valley Children’s Hospital. Each
stuffed animal, no matter how big or small, carries that prayer with it. From the church to the hospital, from the hands of the riders to the arms of a child, each bear becomes more than a toy. It becomes a blessing passed from giver to receiver.
The first time we brought this ride to Valley Children’s, staff told us it was something new — the first parade of its kind across their grounds. Not just a handful of bikes stopping by, but a full procession staged so every child could watch. Some gather along the promenade of the long-term stay ward, waving with all the strength they can find. Others press against the glass above, faces lit with wonder as the bikes roll past below. For a moment, the hospital feels less like a place of treatment and more like the setting of a living fairy tale.
Last year, more than 230 stuffed animals made the
Sarah Jackman WRITER
Teddy Bear Ride Continued on page 6
Motorcycle Therapy
Continued from page 1
grinning like we already had the fix in our pockets. Wiggle the bars this way, jiggle the key that way—bippity boppity vroom. The bike roared back to life and the laughter came with it. Handshakes, claps on the back, problem solved.
Then came the little guy. Wide-eyed, staring at the bikes like he’d just walked into a dream. He called us heroes, said he wanted to join the Army when he grew up. We didn’t let him leave empty-handed. A handmade keychain. A challenge coin. A couple of pictures. And maybe something even heavier—a memory of what heroes look like in real life. Sometimes it’s just dusty riders, sunburned and sweaty on a patio.
After a while, the crew split. Most stayed at Buckhorn, but two of us had another mission: deliver a cheeseburger from North Fork BBQ to a brother we call Legend. Fifty years since he walked off active duty. Half a century. You don’t let that pass without honor, even if it’s just a burger tucked into a saddlebag.
We found him, handed over the burger, and didn’t linger long. No real conversation at his place—just a quick check-in, a smile, and then we saddled up again. Legend swung a leg over his bike and led us down winding backroads until we landed at Good Ol’ Daze.
That’s where the stories started to flow. Surrounded by quirky handmade goods, offbeat souvenirs, and ice cream cones dripping in the summer heat, Legend opened up. He’s logged over 1.5 million road miles, and his current chariot is a Goldwing with well over 200,000 miles still rolling strong. He shared tales from over forty-five years of riding: multiple Gold Wings, a VMAX, and at one point some little 50cc bikes he even rode through Yosemite. Rallies
he’d attended. Shenanigans from his younger days. His life spilled out in stories and photographs, and we soaked up every word. Legend is exactly that—a living piece of the road’s history.
At one point, he and I got to talking about how every bike seems to match its rider. Legend with his Goldwing— tried and true, beaten down, torn apart and put back together again. Me on my V-Star—I’ve been riding since I was three years old, sitting on the tank of my uncle Dave’s bike. Over thirty years in the saddle, as long as I can remember. And then there’s Babs, proud on his shiny Ducati, still fairly new to the road with two and a half years under his belt. Pride in the diversity, three riders in three different stages, but bound by the same pavement. We laughed, teased each other, and for a while the weight of life seemed lighter. And then the bear showed up. He lumbered through like it was his neighborhood. My heart said, “Aw, he wants a hug.” My brain said, “Don’t be stupid.” He moved along before either side could win the argument. Probably for the best, though part of me still wonders what it would’ve been like to wrap my arms around all that fur. Not long after, another kid showed up, sandy feet and dripping swim trunks from a day at the lake. His eyes locked on the bikes and wouldn’t let go. We let him climb up, and the smile that broke across his face was worth every grain of sand he left behind on the seat. Photos snapped. High fives given. Another story planted in a kid’s memory, another small spark that might grow into something bigger someday. By the time we hit Oakhurst, the day was catching up with us. My bones ached; shoulders stiff from the miles. We topped off the tanks and grabbed sodas. We hugged Legend goodbye
there—mandatory, don’t argue—and he peeled off, probably settled back into his place within the half hour. That left just me and Babs rolling south. About twenty miles from home, Babs picked up a “CHP friend” trailing behind him. I tried waving him ahead of me, but Babs wasn’t having it. He kept the patrol car at bay until it finally turned off in another direction. Mildly annoying, sure, but I respected his logic. Somehow, 10:15 in the morning had become six in the evening without us even noticing. That’s the road’s trick: it steals the hours, but it gives you something back.
One ride. One day. Full of heat and laughter, family and strangers who became family for a moment. Hours with Legend, soaking up a lifetime of stories, honoring what it means to keep going. For some of us, this is more than a pastime. The road is our reason to stay. The throttle steadies us when life tries to shake us loose. The miles remind us that we’re not alone. We ride for the ones who can’t. For the names etched in stone. For the legends who are still here to tell their tales. For the kids who look up at us and see heroes.
And maybe, just maybe, one day I’ll get that bear hug.
BIKER FRIENDLY DIRECTORY FOR CENTRAL CALIFORNIA
Central California
Graphic Design Services
Jennifer Turk
559-708-8122
jenhturk@gmail.com
Inhisimage Cleaning LLC Professional Cleaning Services
559-286-8207
www.facebook.com/ InhisownimageCleaning559
Six Strings for Freedom
559-410-3353
www.facebook.com/ sixstringsforfreedom
daruma_doll559 www.instagram.com/ daruma_doll559
Central Coast California Cravings www.californiacravingsca.com
Clovis
Dog Gon’ Clean Grooming 135 Shaw Ave D1
559-325-7974 www.groomingbymaria.com
Sassano’s Men’s Wear 448 Pollasky 559-299-4430
www.sassanosmenswear.com
Fresno
Clawson Motorsports
6334 N. Blackstone Ave 559-435-5020 www.clawsonmotorsports.com
Ruff Cuts Dog Grooming Dana Bartram
559-558-0018
Kooty
Freeze Dried Kreations 559-2132-8271
Mariposa
Happy Burger Diner 5120 Highway 140 209-966-2719
www.happyburgerdiner.com
Steve’s Sportsman Café 3441 Woodland Dr. 209-966-8223
www.facebook.com/ StevesSportsmansCafe
Nationwide
Russ Brown Motorcycle Attorneys 4400 Coldwater Canyon Ave Ste 200 Studio City, CA 800-424-5377 www.russbrown.com
North Fork
Buckhorn Saloon 32992 Road 222 559-877-8700
www.buckhornsaloon.net
To have your Business listed for $8.00 a month Contact Richard 559-572-3573
Teddy Bear Ride
Continued from page 2
trip — bears, bunnies, dragons, and more. They weren’t just cargo strapped to sissy bars and backrests; they were promises waiting for new homes. Riders turned the forty-mile venture from Lemoore into a moving toy parade, laughter bubbling at the sight of oversized plush strapped to saddlebags and handlebars. Children pointed and waved, cars honked, and everywhere the ride went, it carried joy along with it.
This year, the goal has grown to 500 stuffed animals. Five hundred soft companions, ready to ease fears, chase away loneliness, and bring comfort into hospital rooms. Every donation adds another thread to the tapestry of this ride, and every rider helps weave it together. The road itself is only the beginning. When the bikes reach Valley Children’s, the real magic takes shape. Riders
stage for fifteen minutes while nurses and caregivers guide children into place — some wheeled out, some walking carefully, others waving from their windows. Then the line begins to move, slow and steady, across the promenade.
Engines rumble low, steady as a heartbeat. Bears bob and sway in the breeze as the bikes glide past. Children clap and wave, some shouting, some simply staring in awe. Parents smile through tears. Nurses pause their work to take it in. Riders wave back, their own eyes shining behind sunglasses. For those minutes, the hospital grounds become a festival, a place where joy drowns out everything else.
Through it all, Howie leads the way, guardian of the parade. His presence is a reminder that the most powerful things aren’t about horsepower at all — they’re about heart.
The Teddy Bear Ride is more than motorcycles, more than stuffed animals. It’s community, stitched together by people willing to give their time, their miles, and their love. On November 15, 2025, we’ll ride again, starting at LifeWay Church with a blessing and ending at Valley Children’s Hospital with a gift. Along the way, we’ll carry not just toys, but hope — the kind that turns a hospital promenade into
a fairy tale come to life. And this is where you come in. Bring a bike, bring a bear, bring your family, bring a smile. However, you show up, you’ll be part of the story. The more of us there are, the more joy we can carry to those kids. The more the merrier.
Located on the Southern Sierra Scenic Byway. Just minutes from Bass Lake & Yosemite.
Riding for Veterans: The 7th Annual CVMA® Veterans Run
Sarah Jackman WRITER
There are rides that fill a calendar, and then there are rides that fill your soul. The CVMA® Veterans Run lands firmly in that second category. On November 8th, the Combat Veterans Motorcycle Association® will roll out their 7th annual run, starting at Clawson Motorsports in Fresno, winding through North Fork, and finishing the day at the Wakehouse. This will be my fourth year riding it, and every time I pull in, line up, and settle into that familiar rumble, I’m reminded why this run keeps pulling me back.
Seven years may not sound like much in the history books, but in the riding world, seven consecutive annual runs means something. It means consistency. It means reliability. It means a growing circle of connection. From the beginning, this run was never about stacking miles on
an odometer—it was about honoring veterans and building community. Routes and
details may shift from year to year, but the heartbeat hasn’t wavered. Each November,
Hope
After
riders show up with the same purpose: to ride for them.
My favorite year so far was the second one I attended. Nearly 400 bikes lined up that morning, stretching farther than I could see. The engines roared to life one after another, a rolling thunder that hit my chest before we even pulled out. And every single year, riders come from across the country to join. Not just from nearby towns, not just from around the Valley, but from states away—logging hundreds, even thousands of miles just to be here. That kind of dedication says more than words ever could about the meaning of this ride. What stays with me just as much as the sound of those engines are the moments in between. The hugs, the handshakes that turn into backslaps, the conversations with
Help Brittney & Jennifer Become Moms
For over four years, these two incredible women have been on the most emotional journey imaginable—filled with happiness, hope, and heartbreak—as they’ve fought to start a family through IVF.
They’ve poured every ounce of love and every dollar of their savings into this dream. Two full rounds of IVF, countless appointments, hormone treatments, tests, procedures, and waiting…all in the hope of bringing their baby home.
Brittney and Jennifer are meant to be mothers. Their strength, devotion, and resilience have carried them through unimaginable loss—and they still believe in the joy and love that comes with parenthood. We believe with your help, that dream can still come true. To learn more or donate, please visit the link to the right.
Riding for Veterans Continued on page 8
Riding for Veterans
Continued from page 7
people I’ve never met but feel like I’ve known forever. Big crowds, bikes glimmering in the sun, and the grounding moments where someone leans in, wraps you up, and reminds you: this community is solid, and it’s real.
This year’s ride will once again begin at Clawson Motorsports. From there, we’ll roll toward North Fork, a route that offers a perfect mix of open stretches and winding climbs. It’s scenic enough to make you forget the clock, but steady enough for riders of all levels to find their rhythm. The mountain air bites a little sharper up there, the pine trees close in tight, and the sound of the pack echoes off the canyon walls. It’s the kind of ride that lives in your memory long after you’ve parked.
And while motorcycles are the soul of the run, it’s worth noting that cars are welcome
too. Families and friends who don’t ride can still join for the entire route, tucked into the convoy alongside the rows of bikes. It doesn’t change the spirit of the run—it only widens the circle of who gets to share the day. By the time the group pulls into the Wakehouse, the throttle eases, helmets come off, and the engines quiet down. That’s when the stories start. It’s where the ride folds into fellowship, where new friendships form and old ones deepen. It’s the exhale at the end of the day, a reminder that the miles are only part of what makes this run matter.
Because at its core, the CVMA® Veterans Run is about more than the road. It’s about showing up for veterans, year after year, shoulder to shoulder. Some ride in memory of brothers and sisters who never made it home. Some ride to support those still fighting battles we can’t always see. Some ride because it’s the best way they
know to say “thank you.”
The beauty of this event is how it blends adrenaline and reflection, joy and solemnity. It’s not just another poker run or casual Saturday cruise. This is riding with purpose.
And it’s open to everyone. Riders, passengers, families, friends, supporters—all are welcome. That’s why it grows each year. Every November, people make the trip from all over the country to be part of it. They know it’s worth the miles. They know it’s worth the time.
Every time I’ve been part of this run, I’ve felt the same shift when the line starts to move. It isn’t nerves, and it isn’t excitement exactly. It’s the quiet awareness that
you’re stepping into something bigger than yourself. Each mile carries a story. Each stop carries a memory. Every handshake, every hug, every veteran standing by the road to watch us pass—it all adds up to something that stays with you.
So here’s the invite, plain and simple: November 8th. Clawson Motorsports to North Fork to the Wakehouse. Be there. Line up with us. Feel that chest-deep roar when the engines fire together, and let the road do what it does best—connect us. If you’ve never ridden it, this is the year. If you’ve come before, you already know. Whether you’re on two wheels or four, you’ll find yourself part of something that matters.
