June for me is the month that we can really start to put some miles on. The May weather is way better than April but can still have some very cool mornings and evenings in May that require a ton more planning, and gear to stay warm and safe. May can also bring some significant storms that just seem to pop up out of nowhere. Not that any month cannot bring terrible weather, but by June we can at least see the weather patterns coming generally and plan accordingly. With the ability to be able to take off and ride after work, and take off earlier in the mornings, the extra miles from June and on in the summer is pretty amazing. The winter doldrums have long passed, and the vitamin D from being out in the sun is in full effect. The world may even start to look like a new place with a renewed spark in our steps and seemingly more things to look forward to, even if that is simply more time to ride, more bike nights to check out, more runs to go on, and more events to get ready for. Enjoy the season my friends because we are just getting rolling!
So far this year, the political climate has been far less than stellar I would say. There always seems to be someone bitching about something going on in the world that we live in. It is sort of a buzzkill to say the least. When we can readily see fuckery going on with local government, at the county level, state level, and all the way to the top on a regular basis, it makes one wonder how in the hell we can even exist. Don’t get me wrong, it could be way worse had some elections gone differently, but the level of angst between members of our society is palpable at times. With all of that going on, sometimes there are things that happen that renew my faith in humanity and give me the idea that society is just not generally screwed.
My first decent length ride of the year was May 3rd for the Sleeping Angels Fun Run. I was put at the front of the pack to run one of a handful of routes that ended in Boone that day. Matt, Brad, and I led the group from The Exchange in
On the Cover the
Darien sure spruces up Christian Clapper’s 1953 Panhead. She was gracious enough to take some photos with us to highlight Christian’s bad ass Pan Chop that has been halfway across the country more than once on his watch. One of his collection, this young man has learned well and worked with his old man to create some wonderful works of art! Keep it up Christian, and keep building them scoots!
Avoca on Hadley’s Run as it is called, through some advertisers’ spots in western and central Iowa and had a blast. Rick and Roxanne usually plan this route and do so with the help of some littles and TRMI. Other routes left Boone, Fort Dodge, and Stumpy’s in Duncombe. A couple routes were for Side by Sides, and the rest were on two and three wheels. Hundreds of different people with different starting locations, all ending up at the same spot. Everyone working together and raising money for a great cause, all while having a great time. At the end of the day, when the runs all converged, there was some fun had at the Boone County fairgrounds with some vittles, a live auction, and all sorts of friends laughing it up and having a great time. Everyone coming together for a common goal and doing so without any extraneous bullshit that pulls people apart. All in all, the event that day raised over $80K for Iowa families that have suffered the loss of a little one. That is utterly amazing that people from far and wide can come together and support something and make a difference. Maybe some of our leaders could learn a thing or two about getting shit done from the SAFR crew? Ride along with us May 2nd of 2026 for the 15th Annual Sleeping Angels Fun Run. More info after the first of the year on that, but mark your calendars now!
I am also incredibly proud to have been a part of the growth of Sleeping Angels Fun Run over the years. When Kirk came to me at the Capital City Swap Meet and told me what he wanted to do, I wanted to do everything I could to help out but back then I had no clue what this could turn into. They have been huge sponsors of the magazine for the past 14 years, and we try our best to support them back. It is nice to see how they have evolved and grown over the years, and we are glad to have been able to help them do so. Much love and respect to the SAFR clan. When you put your passion into something, it shows!
Get out and ride!
Vernon
Proud Editor/Owner Thunder Roads Magazine of Iowa
Owner Thunder Guns and Thunder Guns West
IMDA Board Member
MRF Iowa Assistant State Rep
COC Liaison
NCOIR State of Iowa Representative
Quote of the Month: “Run the race of life at your own pace.” Unknown
We are just coming off CMA’s annual Run for the Son / Bike Blessing weekend with another great turnout, even though the weather wasn’t the best. It is awesome to see all the people show up that want prayer, God’s blessing on their rides, themselves, and their families. Talking and praying with so many is greatly encouraging and hopeproducing in all who participate. Our biking community is a wonderful thing, a fellowship of people doing so many different good and sacrificial activities. The average person not connected with bikers is almost always astounded at the benefits and outreaches the everyday riders are involved in. Those of you familiar with the CMA part of the community may have heard of our annual Run For The Son. It is CMA’s only fundraiser and always occurs on the first Saturday in May. The proceeds of this allows for the investment into evangelizing, equipping, and training motorcyclists in this nation and worldwide. This being CMA’s 50th anniversary year, I thought I would touch on where the resources that are so generously donated flow.
40% of what is received goes directly to biker evangelism and outreach. This is what allows us to be everywhere you find bikers. From the largest bike rallies to the smallest local bike nights, from trackside to clubhouses, CMAers are distributing Bibles, gospel tracts, bottles of water, and ministry support to all 36 countries making up CMA International.
20% goes to partnering with the Jesus Film Project, a world evangelism outreach that has translated and provided the Jesus Film experience to 124 countries. It has currently been translated into 2,170 different languages.
20% goes towards Bibles (and Bible apps) for the persecuted, through the organization Global Christian Relief. There are many countries where the message of Jesus is prohibited and having a Bible in your possession can get you imprisoned or killed. RFS proceeds have purchased and distributed 3.6 million Bibles to 60 of the most oppressive countries such as Syria, North Korea, Iraq and North Sudan.
The final 20% goes to transportation for pastors in other countries through Missionary Ventures. These pastors oversee multiple churches that are miles away from each other and have no way of getting to them except on foot. 37 years of RFS proceeds have provided 9,397 motorcycles, 7,507 bicycles, 42 horses, 67 boats, 13 camels, 4 horse and buggies, 2 snowmobiles and 13 wheelchairs in 115 countries so far. Some of you may or may not find these statistics interesting, but I think that it is important for accountability’s sake to let it be known where your generosity impacts others. Thank you. It is so appreciated.
God has truly blessed us in this country and it is important to so acknowledge, to strive to live in a state of thankfulness, and to relax in the forgiveness and knowledge that the Almighty Creator, the one who controls our lives, is trustworthy. The book of Matthew tells us, ‘Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all things that I have commanded you: and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the Age. Amen”.
When we turn our sights on Jesus, it helps us get out of the way and makes room for God. And like at our bike blessing, we can come to him with confident expectation that there is nothing needed that he cannot provide.
Blessings, Mark
Mark and Karla Cornick are with the Christian Motorcyclists Association. Find out more about CMA and God’s plan for you at www.cmausa.org
The Biker Friendly Business Directory is a list of establishments throughout Iowa that sponsor the magazine. You can pick up your copy here every month. Let them know that you saw them in TRMI. If your business would like to advertise in Thunder Roads Iowa Biker Friendly Business Listing and become a part of the network, please email vernon@thunderroadsiowa.com
Biker Accessories
Dirty Biker Design
61 W Washington Street Winterset, Iowa 50273 www.DirtyBikerDesign.com 515-444-9050
The Social Security Act, enacted on August 14, 1935, was supposed to provide a new federally administered system of social insurance for the aged, financed through payroll taxes paid by the employees and their employers. Before this, people relied on a mix of private and state-sponsored programs, extended family, and often the charity of others to provide for their retirement and financial security.
President Franklin Roosevelt convinced our grandparents that the “New Deal” was a great thing. We were at the height of The Depression; people were fighting to get a job, they were desperate, and the government stepped up and said, “We want to help struggling Americans retire with dignity.”
worker claims benefits. The adjustments are intended to provide the worker with roughly the same total lifetime benefits, regardless of when he or she claims benefits, based on average life expectancy. Claiming benefits before the FRA results in a permanent reduction in monthly benefits (to take into account the longer expected period of benefit receipt); claiming benefits after the FRA results in a permanent increase in monthly benefits (to take into account the shorter expected period of benefit receipt).
I have found that some people will not be able to collect the maximum amount of benefits unless they wait until age 70 to retire. Once again, this system doesn’t really seem to be working for the benefit of the average American taxpaying worker. However, this is a common theme among government programs.
Well, I believe that most of us know President Reagan’s nine most terrifying words in the English language, “I’m from the Government, and I’m here to help.” While that may be the intentions of some of the new, bright-eyed junior congress men and women, it would seem that, with time, the allure of power, prestige, and money wins out and the corruption settles in.
When Social Security began, the average life expectancy for a white male was 61 years, and for a white woman, it was 65 years. The Social Security program allowed for benefit payments to begin at the age of 65 for both males and females. Isn’t it interesting how the math ain’t mathing there? I could have retired and collected Social Security benefits 4 years after my death, if I were the “average” white male. This was completely by design.
In 1983, the retirement age jumped up to 67, for those born in, or before, 1960. At least with this increase, the average life expectancy for a white male had gone up to 71.7 years, and white females 78.7 years. Black males were lucky to clear 65.4 years, and black females were at 73.6 years.
From the Congress.gov website: The Social Security full retirement age (FRA) is the age at which workers can first claim full (i.e., unreduced) Social Security retired-worker benefits. Among other factors, a worker’s monthly benefit amount is affected by the age at which he or she claims benefits relative to the FRA. Benefit adjustments are made based on the number of months before or after the FRA the
The main job of the Social Security Act was to make sure that people could stop working every single day, relax, and enjoy what little life they have left. If you’ve worked for 50 years of your life (high-school graduation until age 67), paid your income taxes, and contributed to the social security fund, you should be able to retire and live modestly off of the money you contributed. Unfortunately, the reality of it is, that’s just not how it works. I know of very few retirees that are able to live, even a modest life, on what they are getting in return from the federal government.
During the first week of August 2010, the Social Security’s trustees released their updated projections detailing the financial health of the nation’s retirement system. They reported that the program was running a deficit that year and is projected to run growing deficits after 2015. Don’t worry though, it will have money in the trust funds to pay full benefits until 2037. Great, so when I’m able to retire at age 72, I won’t get shit from the system that I helped fund my entire life. That’s ok, statistically I’m not likely to be here to collect it anyway.
In late 2010, the social security trust funds (one for retirement and one for disability) had two and a half trillion dollars to work with. That would have allowed the government to make good on all the promised payments for 25 years, but our government is filled with incompetent, corrupt morons that like to believe they possess genius level IQ’s. Sadly, that is very far from the truth. These idiots don’t seem to be capable of balancing a broke college student’s checking account, let alone a multi-trillion-dollar federal budget.
When the program runs a surplus, the extra money is used to purchase U.S. Treasury bonds and then the dollars are used to help finance the rest of the government, which is ALWAYS running a deficit. Now, when the liabilities to taxpayers come due, we have to find a way to cover those expenses; here come the tax increases, spending cuts (yeah right), and borrowing from other countries (increased national debt).
Our government has robbed the social security trust funds so many times that there isn’t a chance of it ever becoming solvent. If you’re currently receiving a monthly check, it’s getting closer and closer to being funded by the work your children and grandchildren did last month.
In that 2010 report, the program trustees said, “The projected trust fund shortfalls should be addressed in a timely way so that necessary changes can be phased in gradually and workers can be given time to plan for them. Implementing changes sooner will allow the needed revenue increases or benefit reductions to be spread over more generations.” I guess they were preparing for a time when they’d just tell the citizens of this nation that there will no longer be any social security. I’m sure they have a plan to blame the program’s demise on someone.
Here we are in 2025, in an extremely heated and divided political landscape. The panic is off the charts. The propaganda mills are churning out new talking points every hour on the hour, twenty-four seven. In my opinion, all the rhetoric seems to be a smoke screen for all of the questionable information that has come out over the last couple of months. Some people are upset that some information is surfacing; information they thought would never see the light of day.
Why is it that when an agency filled with lifelong bureaucrats gets an audit, everyone loses their minds? All of a sudden people resign from a position they’ve held for decades. Doesn’t that seem a bit suspicious to anyone else?
MSNBC and almost every other mainstream media outlet has run stories with headlines like, “DOGE wants access to Social Security data; that’s a terrible idea.” There are multiple claims that your personal information is at risk, and that they are manipulating social security numbers to steal your money. News flash, your money has already been stolen… by all the people in the government that are screaming the loudest about
DOGE employees stealing it. What they’re really concerned about is you finding out that they’ve been stealing it for decades.
While the masses listen to the media bobbleheads and the screaming politicians, falling for all the fear mongering and getting pissed off about the lies they’re being fed, the truth is that a couple of external DOGE representatives were given “read only” access, meaning they can only see information but can’t change anything, while they work with Social Security Administration employees to conduct audits. So, the lies that the 20-something, ignorant college kids are stealing all your money are pretty laughable.
While a large group is sounding off that Social Security, and every other government agency, is completely safe and nothing is amiss, we have a smaller group concerned about alleged fraud and theft based off information they’ve supposedly uncovered that suggests there are hundreds of thousands of people in the social security databases over the age of 150 years old that could be receiving payments.
Do I know what the truth is? No, and as time goes on, I’m leaning more towards the idea that none of us will ever know the full scope of the corruption and fraud that continues to take place. Maybe it will be like the JFK files and our great grandchildren will get to see all of the information and learn how we were deceived and robbed.
- David McCoy - david@thunderroadsiowa.com - FaceBook.com/TRMIDave - FaceBook.com/TRMINSUR
3rd Base Bar and Grill
800 N. 8th Street
Council Bluffs, IA
(712) 322-6804
3rdbasebargrill@gmail.com
Monday – Thursday 11 AM – 2 AM
Friday 9 AM – 2 AM
Saturday – Sunday 7 AM – 2 AM
3rd Base Bar & Grill tags itself as a “Neighborhood sports bar and grill with excellent food” and from what we experienced during our visit, I would consider that an understatement. We visited 3rd Base for breakfast early one Sunday morning, but from the looks of things, breakfast isn’t all they have up their sleeve. There are offerings such as Burger Mania Monday where you can get a fresh cheeseburger and fries for only $5.99, classic Broaster chicken, and they also have Happy Hour Monday through Thursday from 1-5 with $2 domestic beers and $5 appetizers.
As soon as we darkened the door, Stephanie greeted us and let us choose our table. We were there early, and the place was already occupied by several tables of hungry customers. We eyeballed their plates on the way by, hoping to see a breakfast option that would hit the spot.
Stephanie took our drink orders, and returned promptly with fresh brewed coffee, which was quaintly served in random coffee mugs that kinda made me feel like I was sharing a cup with friends at home. She brought the menus
and let us know about some special offerings that morning, and we went about quickly choosing and then changing our minds from one delicious sounding breakfast platter to another. When Stephanie returned, we tried to get our poop in a group and make our selections without messing around too long. The menu was full of mouth-watering options, so we all tried to choose something different so we could sample as many items as possible.
Brad ordered the French Toast Plate which came loaded with three full slices of sweet, cinnamon-y French toast with the perfect ratio of crisp outside to soft inside. Paired with butter and maple syrup, it hardly needed the two savory sausage patties that accompanied the plate. Stacey ordered the Ultimate Skillet that came piled high with crisp country potatoes, diced ham, onions, green peppers, mushrooms, bacon, sausage, cheese, two eggs cooked your way, and choice of toast. Stacey requested eggs over easy and sourdough toast. The Ultimate skillet was aptly named, a HUGE portion of breakfast faves in one dish! Vernon went with the chicken fried steak skillet, and that was another excellent choice. His skillet arrived piping hot and piled high with those crispy country potatoes, chunks of crisp and tender country fried steak, creamy sausage gravy, two eggs (over medium), and perfectly toasted wheat bread. This skillet option was also a very generous portion…so bring your appetite. I ordered the All-American Platter. This platter consists of two eggs your way, choice of meat, choice of toast, all piled on a sizable portion of crisp hashbrowns. I ordered my eggs over medium and opted for sausage as my meat. Sourdough toast completed my breakfast platter and it was the perfect buttery option to dip in my egg yolks.
There was not an unsatisfied customer among us. Stephanie kept our cups filled with fresh coffee, and we all had more than enough food to eat. The portions were HUGE and the prices were low…you could even say that 3rd Base Bar & Grill really knocked it out of the park with their breakfast menu. I know, I know…total dad joke there, but I will not take it back. The breakfast was amazing, and I can’t wait to return for one of those fresh, juicy burgers. When you swing by 3rd Base make sure to tell them Thunder Roads Magazine of Iowa sent you…and bring your appetite!
Melanie
If you have a WRTE location for us to visit, please let me know at Melanie@thunderroadsiowa. com.
Harry and his wife are having hard financial times, so they decide that she’ll become a hooker. She’s not quite sure what to do, so Harry says, “Stand in front of that bar and pick up a guy. Tell him that you charge a hundred bucks. If you got a question, I’ll be parked around the corner.” She’s standing there for 5 minutes when a guy pulls up and asks, “How much?” She says, “A hundred dollars.” He says, “All I got is thirty.” She says, “Hold on,” and runs back to Harry to ask, “What can he get for thir-ty?” “A hand job,” Harry replies. She runs back and tells the guy all he gets for thirty dollars is a hand job. He agrees. She gets in the car, unzips his pants, and out pops this HUGE penis. She stares at it for a minute, and then says, “I’ll be right back.” She runs back to Harry and asks, “Can you loan this guy seventy bucks?”
A boy and girl sit in a Catholic school. The girl falls asleep. The teacher asks the class, “Who created Earth?”
The boy pokes the girl with the pencil, and she says, “God.” Then she falls back asleep. The teacher asks the class, “Who were the Holy family?” The boy pokes the girl with the pencil, and she says, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” and then she falls back asleep. The teacher asks the class, “What did Mary say to Joseph after Jesus was born?” The boy pokes the girl with the pencil, and she yells, “If you poke me with that thing one more time, I’ll snap it in half!”
A hot blonde walks into a casino and wanders up to one of the craps tables. She looks at the two table handlers and says, “I want to bet $25,000. It’s all the money I have. The only request is that I play topless as I have found that this provides me the most luck at winning.”
got to see these two old-timers having sex against a fence. I’ll just keep an eye on them so there’s no trouble. So, he follows them. The elderly couple walks haltingly along, leaning on each other for support aided by walking sticks. Finally, they get to the back of the tavern and make their way to the fence The old lady lifts her skirt and the old man drops his trousers. As she leans against the fence, the old man moves in. Then suddenly they erupt into the most furious sex that the policeman has ever seen. This goes on for about ten minutes while both are making loud noises and moaning and screaming. Finally, they both collapse, panting on the ground. The policeman is amazed. He thinks he has learned something about life and old age that he didn’t know. After about half an hour of lying on the ground recovering, the old couple struggle to their feet and put their clothes back on. The policeman is still watching and thinks to himself, this is truly amazing, I’ve got to ask them what their secret is. So, as the couple passes, he says to them, “Excuse me, but that was something else. You must’ve had a fantastic sex life together. Is there some sort of secret to this?” Shaking, the old man is barely able to reply, “Fifty years ago that wasn’t an electric fence.
The two men agree and watch anxiously as the woman unbuttons her blouse, removes it, and then removes her bra. She puts the money down on the table and rolls the dice. As the dice stop, she starts jumping up and down, screaming, “I WON! I WON!” She gathers her winnings, puts the chips in her bag, pulls on her shirt, and walks out. The two men at the table look at each other, and one asks the other, “So, what did she roll?” The other man says, “I thought you were watching.”
A woman with small breasts buys a finely carved mirror at an antique shop and hangs it on her bathroom door: The next morning, she playfully says. “Mirror, mirror, on my door, make my boobs size 44.” There is a flash of light, and her boobs grow to enormous proportions. She runs to tell her husband what happened and in minutes they both return. The husband crosses his fingers and says. “Mirror, mirror, on the door, make my penis touch the floor.” There’s a flash of light, and both of his legs fall off.
Dave and Pete were a couple of drinking buddies who worked as aircraft engineers in Darwin, Australia. One day the airport was fogged in and they were stuck in the hangar with nothing to do. Dave said, ‘Man, I wish we had something to drink!’ Pete says, ‘Me too. Ya know, I’ve heard you can drink jet fuel and get a buzz. You wanna try it?’ So, they pour themselves a couple of glasses of high-octane booze and get completely smashed. The next morning Dave wakes up and is surprised at how good he feels. In fact, he feels GREAT! NO hangover! NO bad side effects. Nothing! Then the phone rings. It’s Pete. Pete says, ‘Hey, how do you feel this morning?’ Dave says, ‘I feel great, how about you?’ Pete says, ‘I feel great, too. You don’t have a hangover?’ Dave says, ‘No that jet fuel is great stuff -- no hangover, nothing. We ought to do this more often.’ ‘ Yeah, well there’s just one thing.’ ‘What’s that?’ ‘Have you farted yet?’ ‘No.’ ‘Well, DON’T - ‘cause I’m in New Zealand.’
Senior Sex. The husband leans over and asks his wife, “Do you remember the first time we had sex together over fifty years ago? We went behind the village tavern where you leaned against the back fence and I made love to you.” Yes, she says, “I remember it well.” OK, he says, “How about taking a stroll around there again and we can do it for old time’s sake?” “Oh Jim, you old devil, that sounds like a crazy, but good idea!” A police officer sitting in the next booth heard their conversation and, having a chuckle to himself, he thinks to himself, I’ve
A couple were on their honeymoon: Lying in bed, about ready to consummate their marriage, when the new bride says to the husband: “I have a confession to make, I’m not a virgin.” The husband replies. “That’s no big thing in this day and age.” The wife continues. “Yeah, I’ve been with one other guy.” “Oh yeah? Who was the guy?” “Tiger Woods.” “Tiger Woods, the golfer?” “Yeah.” “Well, he’s rich, famous and handsome. I can see why you went to bed with him.” The husband and wife then make passionate love. When they get done, the husband gets up and walks to the telephone. “What are you doing?” Says the wife. The husband says. “I’m hungry, I was going to call room service and get some food.” “Tiger wouldn’t do that.” “Oh yeah? What would Tiger do?” “He’d come back to bed and do it a second time.” The husband puts down the phone and goes back to bed to make love with his wife a second time. When they finish, he gets up and goes over to the phone. “What are you doing?” She says. The husband says. “I’m still hungry so I was going to get room service to get some food.” “Tiger wouldn’t do that.” “Oh yeah? What would Tiger do?” “He’d come back to bed and do it one more
time.” The guy slams down the phone and goes back to bed and makes love to his wife one more time. When they finish, he’s tired and beat. He drags himself over to the phone and starts to dial. The wife asks. “Are you calling room service?” “No! I’m calling Tiger Woods to find out what’s par for this hole.”
“Well, I would expect you to write the exam with your other hand.”
A woman awakes during the night to find that her husband is not in bed. She puts on her robe and goes downstairs to look for him. She finds him sitting at the kitchen table with a hot cup of coffee in front of him. He appears to be in deep thought, just staring at the wall. She watches as he wipes a tear from his eye and takes a sip of his coffee. ‘What’s the matter, dear’ she whispers as she steps into the room, ‘Why are you down here at this time of night. The husband looks up from his coffee, ‘It’s the 20th Anniversary of the day we met’. She can’t believe he has remembered and starts to tear up. The husband continues, ‘Do you remember 20 years ago when we started dating, I was 18 and you were only 16,’ he says solemnly. Once again, the wife is touched to tears. ‘Yes, I do’ she replies. The husband pauses the words were not coming easily. ‘Do you remember when your father caught us in the back seat of my car’. ‘Yes, I remember’ said the wife, lowering herself into the chair beside him. The husband continued. ‘Do you remember when he shoved the shotgun in my face and said, “Either you marry my daughter or I will send you to prison for 20 years’. ‘I remember that, too’ she replied softly. He wiped another tear from his cheek and said, “I would have gotten out today.”
Charlie was installing a new door and found that one of the hinges was missing. He asked his wife Mary if she would go to Home Depot and pick up a hinge. Mary agreed to go. While she was waiting for the manager to finish serving a customer, her eye caught a beautiful bathroom faucet. When the manager was finished, Mary asked him, “How much is that faucet?” The manager replied, “That’s a gold-plated faucet and the price is $500.00. Mary exclaimed, “My goodness, that is a very expensive faucet. It’s certainly out of my price bracket.” She then proceeded to describe the hinge that Charlie had sent her to buy. The manager said that he had them in stock and went into the storeroom to get one. From the storeroom the manager yelled. “Ma’am, do you wanna screw for the hinge?” Mary paused for a moment and then shouted back, “No, but I will for the faucet.”
A little boy and his grandfather are raking leaves in the yard. The little boy sees an earthworm trying to get back into its hole. He says, “Grandpa, I bet I can put that worm back in that hole.” The grandfather replies, “I’ll bet you five dollars you can’t. It’s too wiggly and limp to put back in that little hole.” The little boy runs into the house and comes back out with a can of hair spray. He sprays the worm until it is straight and stiff as a board. The boy then proceeds to put the worm back into the hole. The grandfather hands the little boy five dollars, grabs the hair spray and runs into the house. Thirty minutes later the grandfather comes back out and hands the boy another five dollars. The little boy says, “Grandpa, you already gave me five dollars.” The grandfather replies, “I know. That’s from your Grandma.”
A smart-assed teenager at the back of the room raised his hand and asked, “What would happen if I came in tomorrow suffering from complete and utter sexual exhaustion?” The entire class was reduced to laughter and sniggering. When silence was restored, the teacher smiled at the student, shook her head and sweetly said,
Two women were playing golf. One teed off and watched in horror as her ball headed directly toward a foursome of men playing the next hole. The ball hit one of the men. He immediately clasped his hands together at his groin, fell to the ground and proceeded to roll around in agony. The woman rushed down to the man, and immediately began to apologize. “Please allow me to help. I’m a Physical Therapist and I know I could relieve your pain if you’d allow me.” she told him. “Oh, no, I’ll be all right. I’ll be fine in a few minutes,” the man replied. He was in obvious agony, lying in the fetal position, still clasping his hands at his groin. At her persistence, however, he finally allowed her to help. She gently took his hands away and laid them to the side, loosened his pants and put her hands inside. She administered tender and artful massage for several long moments and asked, “How does that feel?” He replied, “It feels great, but I still think my thumb’s broken.
A Texan walks into a pub in Ireland and clears his voice to the crowd of drinkers. He says, “I hear you Irish are a bunch of hard drinkers. I’ll give $500 American dollars to anybody in here who can drink 10 pints of Guinness back-to-back.” The room is quiet and no one takes up the Texan’s offer. One man even leaves. Thirty minutes later the same gentleman who left shows back up and taps the Texan on the shoulder. “Is your bet still good?”, asks the Irishman. The Texan says yes and asks the bartender to line up 10 pints of Guinness. Immediately the Irishman tears into all 10 of the pint glasses drinking them all backto-back. The other pub patrons cheer as the Texan sits in amazement. The Texan gives the Irishman the $500 and says, “If ya don’t mind me askin’, where did you go for that 30 minutes you were gone?” The Irishman replies, “Oh...I had to go to the pub down the street to see if I could do it first”.
Susie is a prostitute who doesn’t want her grandma to know. One day Police raid the brothel & line up the girls outside. The grandma walks past & sees her. Quick thinking Susie tells her it’s a queue for free oranges, so her grandma joins the queue. When the Police get to grandma, they’re surprised & ask her “How, do u do it at your age?” she replies, “I take my teeth out, peel back the skin & suck ‘em until they’re dry.”
Hefe Vernon Says...
When I recently asked Vernon what he would like me to write about in future issues of TRMI, he said, “Do you have any highly memorable rides in or through Iowa that are noteworthy? Or a trip to Davenport or something like that that is worth a few words?” Oh, Boy-Howdy DO I !!! Last things first, though: “... worth a few words?” Seriously, Vernon, do you actually believe I can say (write) anything with “just a few words?” (LOL!!!)
Okay, I’ll try...
Of course, me living along the Eastern-most Counties in South Dakota for the entirety of my life thus far, I have wandered across the SD/IA border from time to time, usually without any serious incidents. Over the next few months, I’ll try to recall some of the higher points of the better trips in and around one of my Favorite NeighborStates, Iowa.
Humboldt, 1987.
To be clear, it took me 13 months to make the 188 miles from Sioux Falls, SD to Humboldt, IA. As I mentioned in an earlier article, “The Story of Dirty Gurl” Part One (TRMI January 2025), I was blessed to have Blacky, the Rat Bastard (1948 Indian Chief w/Trashcan Sidecar), fire up and run on Father’s Day of 1986. A couple weeks later, I packed my tent, sleeping bag and a few other things into the sidecar and headed to Humboldt. I made it about thirty miles into Iowa when one cylinder went flat. I pulled over to the shoulder and did all the roadside diagnostics on the still-hot motor. Spark. Fuel. Compression. (Just like Ole taught me.) Well, two out of three ain’t bad, unless the ‘third’ happens to be “Compression.” The only choice I had was to limp back to Sioux Falls on the other cylinder. When I got home and let the engine cool down, I yanked the front head and quickly learned that the exhaust valve spring had either broken or somehow come loose. In the process of pulling the cylinder, I discovered the broken valve spring. Not having any real spare parts inventory at the time, so I simply scrubbed the mission and ordered a new base gasket, head gasket, and valve spring. Had the problem been a little more forgiving, I might have gotten Ol’ Blacky back on the road and made another run towards Humboldt...
Thirteen months after Blacky’s First Start, with a wellbroken-in and sorted-out Machine under my butt, I headed to Humboldt once again. I remember leaving Sioux Falls late in the afternoon and getting on Iowa Highway 9, quite possibly my least-favorite road in the entire state, although
I-80 is a very close second. At some point in the evening, I dropped south on another Iowa State Highway, perhaps IA Hwy 4. I knew I needed to find my way to IA Hwy 3 and turn left in order to get to Humboldt. As the evening turned into night, the number of motersickels passing me and parked in gas stations and roadside pubs was getting greater and greater. I was beginning to believe this ‘Humboldt Thing’ just might be worthwhile. It was late when I rolled into Humboldt County. Having never been there before, I didn’t really know what to expect but had heard that nearby Rutland was a Happening Little Town. Rather than ride that last few miles into Humboldt and try to find a place to camp, I detoured into Rutland for a look-see. What I found there was so bizarre and macabre that it almost defies description.
Fortunately, I believe I possess the language skills to convey to you what I saw going on that night in Rutland.
The Rabbit Hutch and Main Street.
Beautiful Downtown Rutland, Iowa.
My best guess would be that scarcely 100 people resided in Rutland back in 1987, but I would also guess there to be at least twice that many folks hanging out and encouraging bad behavior on the sidewalks and on Main Street. “Bad Behavior” is somewhat of a relative term. I mean, is it really all that “Bad” if people want to remove all or part of their clothing on the main street of a small town during the largest and most notorious motersickel rally ever known to the state? After all, it was quite late, and the streets were not all that well-lit. The little old ladies and innocent young children were all fast asleep at that hour. I hope. Much debauchery and intoxication seemed to be all around me. Smoky burnouts were requested of every motersickel rider brave enough to pull onto that street. I was feeling just a bit bucky, so I pulled Ol’ Blacky into the Burnout Pit and lit him up! Of course, the crowd was pleased by our display of Public Mischief. At some point in the Evening of Burnouts, I ran onto my old friend, Hog. I believe he was freshly divorced at the time and was accompanied by his very young ‘new’ girlfriend. Hog piled into the trash can sidecar and rode along with me for a few of the obligatory burnouts. He marveled at the power the old 74-cubic-inch Flathead Chief displayed. I, too, was somewhat impressed with Blacky’s ability to ‘light it up’ on demand. In retrospect, I’d have to guess that over-inflating the old hard-rubber tire may have enhanced his willingness to make smoke.
I was obliged to do a few more smoky burnouts before they poured gasoline in The Pit and sparked it up. That was a “One and Done” deal for me. It is quite a thing to ask a man to do smoky burnouts on a 1948 Indian Chief with a sidecar, but I did it, several times. But when The Pit was on fire, they were only going to see me that one last time.
After the Flaming Gasoline Burnout, I turned on my headlight and headed for the edge of town, where I thought I may find a quiet, safe place to pitch my tent and call it a day. As I putted around the little town, I spotted a nice
bunch of motorcyclists with matching vests and matching patches on the back side of these vests. Although I did not know any of them, I knew who they were, and respectfully shut off my motor when I was near enough for all of them to see me and Blacky. When I walked up to their open fire, I introduced myself to their Leader and asked him if they would mind me setting up camp just outside of their perimeter. They appreciated my candor and welcomed me to set up near them. They went on to invite me to feel free to join them around the fire once my camp was set, being sure to let me know I would be welcome. There were close to two hundred of them, and they did not make me feel uncomfortable at all. I thanked them for their kindness and quietly went back to ‘my’ place and set up camp.
I did not return to their party that night, as I was tuckered out from the ride and doing all those burnouts! I quietly slid into my fart-sack and was soon fast asleep. After I broke camp in the morning, I did stop back by the fire pit and thanked them for their hospitality. Those Sons treated me well, and I will never forget that night.
The Drag Strip Humboldt, Iowa
When I left Rutland, I got back on Iowa Highway 3 and headed east to Humboldt. It didn’t take much time at all for me to find the Hub of Activity for the day. It was called the dragstrip. Having been to but one motorcycle dragstrip in Sturgis the previous year, I knew what an exciting place it could be. I was soon seeing some familiar faces from The Spencer Bunch, Skinny being one of the first. As the name would suggest, ‘Skinny’ was anything but his name might suggest. The man was gravitationally gifted as well as gifted in circumference. He was also one of the funniest fellows I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. Once upon a time, Skinny promised to “jump his Panhead” at the Humboldt Drag Races. As I recall, he actually did the jump in 1986, and I missed it. His idea of “jumping his Panhead” was somewhat different than the idea of most of the spectators gathered to witness the feat. (Think Evel thoughts.) All I know for certain is there was an 8-foot 2 x 12 plank, and a sawhorse involved in the stunt. As the story was told to me, the sawhorse was carefully placed closely to the kickstand side of the bike and the plank laid perpendicular to the machine moments before the Fat Man ran full-tilt up the plank before ‘jumping the Panhead.’ Although I was told there was an un-spilled beverage involved in the feat, I have my doubts...
Godspeed, Skinny. May you Rest In Peace.
One of the next familiar faces to be seen was that of the World-Famous Tator Gilmore. Tator was scurrying about the site as though he were in charge of it all, which of course, he was. No matter where I’ve encountered him over the past forty-plus years and no matter how busy he was at the time, Tator always had a few minutes to stop and say “Hello” to me. When I suggested to him that I run Ol’ Blacky through the traps just to see what an Old Indian Sidecar Rig could do in a standing start eighth-mile run, his response was quick and to the point. He informed me that there was no Official Sidecar Class for the drag races at Humboldt. There were, however “Hand-Shift” and “ThreeWheeler” Classes. Tator went on to let me know that there was a slew of Nitrous-Burning Sportster-Powered ThreeWheelers that would certainly KILL Blacky’s best effort, as would any one of the several Hand-Shift Machines that had already cleared Technical Inspection.
“I’ve got an idea, Landshark,” Tator said to me. (Oh, by the way, “Alice” is long for ‘LS’ which is short for “Landshark.”) He went on to say, “We don’t have any bikes entered in the Experimental Class this year. If you have never had this outfit on a dragstrip before, we could run it in the Experimental Class.” Of course I was ‘all in’ on this idea! Tator made me promise to not hurt myself or anyone else while on the Property, had me sign some Official Documents, then went on to ‘assist’ me and Blacky through the Technical Inspection process. Once we had passed Tech, Tator informed the Mouthpiece in the Tower of the latest entrant in the day’s races. The Man with the Microphone was good. His sense of humor was every bit as bent as was Tator’s and mine. We were in on the largest joke of the day and no one else had even a clue! Once informed, Mr. Microphone began to work the crowd, letting them know that a Late-Entry Experimental Vehicle had been registered for the afternoon’s agenda. A few minutes later, he informed the crowd that the Late-Entry Experimental Vehicle had successfully passed Technical Inspection and would soon be making its very first-ever pass right here in Humboldt! Finally, our turn in the burnout pit arrived for Blacky and I. The Announcer in the Tower alerted the Crowd: “Never before has this Experimental Vehicle been raced on any dragstrip anywhere, any time! The Experimental Vehicle is coming into the Burnout Pit now!”
Flip the page....
As I putted up to The Pit, I noticed it ‘smelled’ different than the pit in front of the Rabbit Hutch. This pit smelled a lot like a laundry room. Bleach. Having never done a burnout to prior the previous night, I had no idea what a difference a splash of bleach could make... The Crowd heard Mr. Microphone’s announcement that we were ‘in the pit’ and the Crowd piled up against the fence in order to get a better look at the spectacle which was called The Experimental Vehicle. One Pit Hand straddled the front forks, and another Pit Hand straddled the sidecar fender while I straddled the saddle. With all this help, I was able to stand flat-footed, one foot between the bike and the hack, the other foot safely outside the left footboard. Of course, I had to be seated long enough to engage the clutch and get the rear tire to spinning. As soon as I stood up, I knew this was a very special burnout. With my feet firmly planted on the bleached concrete and the men holding down the front end and sidecar, that back tire could only wander back and forth while I subtracted hundreds of miles from its life. Broiling Burnout. And the Crowd went WILD!!!
I dropped my butt back into the saddle, throttled down a bunch, then disengaged the clutch and signaled the nice Pit Hands that I was Good to Go. They stepped away from their positions and another Technician signaled me to the Christmas Tree. Having never been on a racetrack of any kind, my heart was hammering hard in my chest. The Tech inched me up to the lights and nodded in a question-like fashion. I returned his nod with ‘Holy CRAP, what am I about to do?!’ nod of my own. He made some motion with his flag and pointed to the nice Christmas Tree with the pretty colored lights. I was pretty sure that ‘Green’ means ‘Go’ so when the tree lit ‘Green’ I was already in gear, clutch disengaged and blasting on the wick. When I dumped the clutch and banged the throttle, the rear tire hooked up very much unlike it hooked up on Main Street in Rutland the night before. (I think it had something to do with the bleach.) The rig suddenly lurched ahead and the motor nearly stalled. I knew what I had to do. I stomped on the clutch pedal, feathered the throttle a bit, let the motor speed catch up to the speed of the barely turning tires, engage the clutch and give it the onions! Success. We began to roll in an appropriate way, all together, all on the same page. Motor. Transmission. Tires. All together. I wound him up tight in First Gear, quickly shifted into Second, turned the handlebars hard to the left, then harder to the right: Sidecar Wheelie! I rode Ol’ Blacky as hard as I could in a Second Gear Sidecar wheelie, waving to the crowd with my free hand as we passed the grandstands. Just about the moment where the motor was about to grenade itself, I grabbed Third Gear on the fly and never put down the sidecar wheel until I was through the traps. And the Crowd went WILD!!!
The Second Pass
As I chugged my way back the Staging Area, everyone seemed to want to bend my ear. Some questioned my sanity. Others wanted to take my picture. The nice photographer (Michael Lichter) from “Easyriders” Magazine wanted my phone number. Finally, I took my place in the line to make my Second (and Final) Pass for the day. When I got near the Burnout Pit prior to the Second
Pass, I unloaded the camping gear, oil jugs, tools, etc. from the sidecar and removed the saddle bags. I was gunning for the track’s Sidecar Speed Record. (Tator had told me prior Tech Inspection that there had been an old Shovelhead Sidecar Outfit that had made a pass in 1986. I believe he told me that the top speed was 52 mph. I took that as a challenge and responded accordingly.) I was determined to own the track’s Sidecar Speed Record as a result of that Second Pass.
I told the nice fellows at the Burnout Pit that I would take a rain check this time, then proceeded to the nice Technician with the flag. He was grinning ear to ear, as he could almost smell the determination on my face. I was going for it, and he knew it. Meanwhile, Mr. Microphone alerted my Presence at the Christmas Tree. The Crowd was on its feet, dripping with anticipation. (What’s this Damn Fool going to do THIS time???!!!) When the light turned green, I was ready. No show-boating this time. Just a Man and his Machine, determined to make History in Humboldt on this hot July afternoon. And History was, indeed made! A blistering 54-plus mph pass from the tree through the traps! And I’ve never looked back...
Special Thanks to Tator Gilmore and to Bill Wilson.
Thank God for EVERYTHING!!!
Alice
Make the Next One Your Best One.
Let’s start this conversation out of the box hot, not going to be a bucket head or anything, but I sadly was a part of this conversation recently and yes, it was on social media. We all know what a toxic asshole social media can be, but it’s also in how you use it. I’ve made mistakes by going down a rabbit hole of “discussion” on the socials and it, and hold on for this piece of advice, it’s never ever changed my mind or likely anyone else’s mind of whatever the topic might be.
Have I grown? HA! Not a chance in hell, I am way to dimwitted to ever grow intellectually, come on, you may have read my column in this award winning publication for the better part of two decades, and if you have then you know full well you are not spending valuable time reading my words to come away inspired or gain a new outlook on life like you just put down a wellworn copy of Hemingway’s “Old Man and The Sea” (Yes, it may be about fishing, but it’s deeper than that). While I am a rider, and pretty passionate about it, I am just here to chat and swap stories. What I crank out each month on this paper is pretty close to the same conversation we would have over a beer at a biker event, a dealer parking lot, or in a beer garden in a small town if we ran into each other on a warm, perfect riding day. Not much different. On here, on social media, on the radio every day, or at said event, what you see is what you can expect.
about and you will find someone that is sure their way is not only the best way, but the ONLY way. And we know bikers are really bad about that.
The social media “chat” was about what makes a real biker, etc. etc. etc. and blah, blah, F’N BLA! I don’t give a quart of room temperature urine about the topic and it makes my eyes roll and I giggle. The topic doesn’t warrant a dissertation here but you likely have been sucked into it before. I watched, or rather scrolled and became more and more annoyed, but I was a good boy and did not engage. I did a rare adult thing, I just laughed and moved on.
Biker stuff, politics, outdoors, whatever, If I don’t agree with you, I don’t even care anymore, I just move on.
I was asked a few weeks back about riding (actually it was more about a ride that didn’t happen). I was talking either on space book or my radio show (or likely both since they both just mindlessly blend together anymore) about a road trip I was planning, but it ended up not happening and I was f’n called out for not going, because you know, I’m not a “real biker”. This real biker even called me “50 years of being a phony” because I didn’t do this particular ride.
It’s simple, we were going to ride to another state for breakfast (because we can) and hit some shops around said breakfast joint. The reason? It was spring and we wanted to ride. Well, a week prior to clutches out both of our college daughters called and told us they had schedule changes and were both coming home for the weekend and asked on the day of the ride if we could all do a family golf outing, have lunch at the country club, then grill out on the patio.
One of my favorite things after meeting people that know me from whatever is when they tell me, you are actually really like that. Wow, you are a nice guy. Wow, your ride of die is super sweet, you guys are the real deal. Yea, I can’t fake it, nor would I even know how to, because again, I am not that bright.
Which brings me back to the original topic at hand, I “witnessed” a discussion on “why I am more of a biker than you” and I have never understood that mentality. It’s not just the biker world, I have seen in in all of the stuff I love to be a part of. BBQ guys all think their way to smoking delicious dead stuff is the only way, golfers can be that way a bit, don’t get me started on Bow Hunters, they might be the worst all the offenders. Pick a hobby people are passionate
What in the hell would you do right? Kids are coming back; they WANT to hang out with Mom and Dad. I can ride another day. It’s rare we get the two girls home, even more rare when the boy can get home from the Air Force.
For the record we had a flipping blast and every one of our friends that were going to join us all were more than cool about it, they know our kids and family, they know what matters and they were all super happy. I didn’t know if was offending a purist in the move.
Well, sorry about that and you can have my riding man card, when you can get the clutch out of my cold dead hands.
A buddy that was going to ride with us laughed when I told him the story, he mentioned sure it would have been fun but we will do it again, then he asked a question that I still even weeks later cannot in my slightly damage brain cannot answer.
What is my favorite ride I’ve ever done?
Why not just ask me what my favorite sunset was, favorite meal, favorite dance with my wife.
I have been blessed with so many great adventures, some extensive, some spur of the moment, some might seem lame but meant a lot to me at the same time, some looking back are simple but moved me or stick out.
Riding through the Badlands while it’s 130 degrees we pretty amazing, Old River Road, crossing the Mississippi the first time, getting caught in an unexpected or even forecasted spring snow squall, finding a hidden road side park and engaging in “relations” with my wife out of the blue (that was pretty damn memorable) Riding a bike that was way too old, way too small on a distance I had NO business using that particular bike for is memorable. I have written about that ride here on the pages of TRMI, my 1968 Honda 90, 55 miles from the farm where I was “raised” over to the Iowa Great Lakes and back on day. LOL Speed limit was 55, so the bike would handle that. Yes, I was chasing a girl, but riding home, 11pm, hot July night, no windshield, no clear eye protection and with so much humidity and dew from the July Iowa corn by the time I got home, my shirt was soaking wet. It was amazing. I don’t remember the girl or her name that I was chasing (never said I caught her) she was impressed I made the ride, but that is pretty much where her attraction towards me stopped. Look, I am “almost” 16, we sat on the rocks of West Lake, drank a couple of Mt Dew’s and she went back to her grandparent’s cabin and I rode back home. I am pretty sure I MAYBE got a peck, but I loved that night, I still love that lake, and I would sure love to have that bike back!
Some of the rides my wife and I have soloed are right up there as all-time favorites. I know I have don’t have enough solo trips, not just riding back and forth to work, but I mean really getting lost. Leaving Friday and coming back days later. Damn I need to do that. I need more rides with friends, more adventures, I crave what is around that next bend, in the next state, over the next hill, or in that next small town “joint” that has cold beer, a great signature food item and some cool people.
I always hope my next ride is my best ride, I keep hoping, dreaming, and planning.
Even if I don’t check all the cool “biker” boxes because I have a stereo? Cruise control? Highway pegs?
I have nothing to prove to anyone other than this, I will prove to you that “Hey, Crash is a nice guy after all”.
Until Next Month.
Enjoy The Journey.
Todd “Crash” Davis
Thunder Roads Magazine of Iowa Iowa Bike Nights and Dinner Rides
This list is what we have found and what has been submitted. Before heading to any event, please check weather and make sure the event is not cancelled. Not responsible for misprints and typos. If you have any other events to list, please email vernon@thunderroadsiowa.com
Tuesday
Johnny’s Pub Lake Park (Mid May-Sep)
Friday
Cruze N’ to Corydon Bike Night (3rd Fri May-Aug)
Bondurant Bike Night (4th Fri Jun-Aug)
Wet Spot Runnells (Every Fri)
American Legion Post 232 Polk City (2nd Fri MaySep)
Wednesday
Back Forty Bike Night at the Barn Des Moines (2nd Wed May, Jun, Jul, Sep)
Benolas Baxter
Cruise Night Britt (3rd Wed Jul-Sep)
Whiskey Throttle Bar & Grill Cherokee Supper Rides Harley-Davidson of Carroll (Sep 10th)
Dinner Rides Zylstra HD Ames
Thursday
Bikes on the Hundred Block Council Bluffs (3rd Thurs)
Roar Into Harlan (3rd Thurs)
Metro HD Cedar Rapids (2nd Thurs May-Aug, 3rd Thurs Sep)
The Station Slater (May 29th then 3rd Fri Jun-Oct)
