October is what many consider the last chance of getting out on two wheels. Naturally this time of year the days are getting shorter, daytime high temperatures are much lower, and there are several hazards on the roadways to deal with, but still opportunities for some great riding. Be wary of the sun, be wary of the thermometer, and be extra wary of ag equipment at slower than highway speeds, wildlife being displaced as fields of crops have disappeared, and debris strewn across roadways by the giant crop devouring machines.
We have yet this month to utilize or deal with the made-up time of daylight savings. I have been saving time for most of my life, as that shit went down permanently right around the time of my inception, yet I don’t seem to have any more time now than when I was born. Quite actually the opposite. I know they have been dicking around with time since the first great war but often wonder when trying to set all my non “connected” devices clocks fore or aft in the spring and fall, if it is worth it. Maybe Arizona has it right? At the end of my time rant, I suggest that you utilize the saving of daylight yet in October and then fall back on November 2nd this year.
No matter what the clock or calendar says, time always seems to keep slipping by. We are always too busy living life to enjoy life, but maybe that is not always bad. I always seem to keep busy with things, working away at something for the wife and family, the household, motorcycle projects, gun stuff, work for the magazine, something for the gun shop, something legislatively, or helping friends, among a ton of other things I get into. I keep busy in part because of my upbringing and learning that if I am not hustling, I am not earning, and if I am not earning, I am not paying
f t A l ll l R h
This month’s cover features Angella Renee, who hails from Dubuque, Iowa, and has traveled the world with her modeling career! She also shoots guns, drives heavy trucks, rides her own motorcycle (including the 2002 Heritage Softail that she’s posing with) and honorably served her country in the Army! Read more about her on our centerfold calendar page!
bills and working towards the things that I want. Nothing gets done sitting around, but sometimes you need to take accountability of your time and make sure you are on your path and the goals you set are getting closer to being attained. Other reasons that I keep busy are to keep the demons in my head buried. I have enough fodder for nightmares from my past work in emergency services to last multiple lifetimes, but if I keep grinding on, it keeps those intrusive thoughts from coming to light. Maybe work is my therapy, maybe it is my mask, I don’t rightly know, but it seems to be working for me so far. In the whole grand scheme of things, my past mental trauma is miniscule compared to some people near and dear to me, but all the same I feel the need to keep my poop in a group so that I can hopefully be there and be better for my family and friends that need me more than I need to be whole. If you are wondering while reading this if all my rambling has a point, by gosh by golly, it sure does. Sometimes I get too busy with keeping myself busy, that I forget some people that really do and have made an impact on me. This month on the Blast from the Past page in the magazine, there is a letter, a couple photos, and a short description of the inspiration behind that very page in the magazine. Through the Covid restrictions, we could not go visit this old friend, and then he passed without having the chance to see him again. I feel bad for not making the time to go visit but cannot change that now. Make the time to see old friends, and if you are an old friend of mine and reading this, feel free to ring me, text me, or shoot me an email just to say hey. I would love to hear from you. With that, get out and ride and enjoy life!
Vernon Schwarte
vernon@thunderroadsiowa.com
Proud Editor/Owner Thunder Roads Magazine of Iowa
Proud Owner Thunder Guns and Thunder Guns West
IMDA Board Member
COC Liaison
Quote of the Month: “The crickets felt it was their duty to warn everybody that summertime cannot last forever. Even on the most beautiful days in the whole year—the days when summer is changing into fall—the crickets spread the rumor of sadness and change.” — E.B. White
Stifling, oppressive, unbearable heat one day and needing a jacket the next: Welcome to Iowa and the beginnings of the battery tender season. I’m sure we will fight back as long as we can but the inevitable is inevitable and acceptance will happen even if it’s accompanied by lots of kicking and screaming. All change becomes harder and takes a lot out of us all as we gradually and not so gracefully age out. We continue watching the movie credits of life, hoping they will go on for a good while yet.
Sturgis was a hoot as usual but with the official attendance this anniversary year being around 750 gazillion, the crowds were a challenge and made a person look forward to the “not” anniversary years. While thinking about age and change, this year’s Sturgis parade Grand Marshall was 100-year-old Gloria Struck, an early Motor Maid, member of the Sturgis Hall of Fame and immortalized in a painting of David Uhl’s. The painting was taken from a picture of Gloria when she was young and very attractive, leaning on a vintage Harley at Daytona Beach. Probably close to 10 years back, Karla and I were working the Sturgis Motorcycle Museum as part of what CMA does to help out in those couple of rally weeks. Karla was working the door as a bouncer and ticket verifier on the main level while I kept the peace in the basement. I was kicked back, having a coffee after making my rounds when I received a frantic warning call from Karla. From what I could make out it seems a 4-ft-something Tasmanian Devil with a Jersey accent had stormed the gates, wouldn’t show Karla a ticket, had her backed in the corner and was informing her loudly that she didn’t need a ticket because she was in the Hall of Fame and was now headed my way. My reply was, “You didn’t try to bounce Gloria Struck did you?” Karla said, “Who is Gloria Struck?” Sure, enough I saw the steam rolling off this 90-year-old ball of fire as she came down the stairs. Well, Hello Gloria. Karla was doing her best to be a conscientious and responsible volunteer but got caught in the trap of not knowing the rest of the story, as Paul Harvey would say. We can be trying to do our best but most times we don’t see the big picture or how everyone has a back story they bring into the interaction. Sometimes it’s hard to know when it’s time to give grace or pull a piece. I guess like Dalton in Roadhouse said, “Just be nice until it’s time to not be nice”. In the end the museum thing all worked out and I got a picture of Gloria in front of her vintage picture. We had another issue recently at the park walking our boys. (They don’t know they are really dogs). Our other kids are confused also as they say we treat the boys way better than we did them when they were little tykes growing up. Well, these guys ae easier to manage and at least most of the time they like us. Anyway, our local park has a supposed strict leash law, and we had just gotten the boys harnessed, leashed up and were starting down the trail when we saw an outlaw woman with two running free mongrels further ahead. Of course, her shepherd mix and pit saw our dogs and beelined for us while she yelled at the top of her lungs to stop them - to no avail. We quickly circled the wagons, not knowing if it would be a full-blown attack or a bluff charge. Recently a friend and his golden had been attacked on the trail in similar circumstances ending up with major surgery for his boy and on his own hand and arm. Having this in mind we were a bit jumpy, but thankfully if was an aborted charge and we continued on only to run into some yahoo driving his golf cart off-road with his dog running wild. Karla had about reached her nice limit and quickly
informed him of his leash law violation. I thought for a minute she was going to go Gloria Struck on him. Being he was considerably bigger than me and had a golf cart that could run back and forth over us several times without a witness, I was glad when he muttered something snarky and kept going.
We can’t help but react and judge according to our experiences but in many situations when immediate life and limb are safe it behooves us to step back, try to figure out what exactly is happening here and where this seeming nut case is coming from. There’re may be some extenuating circumstances that may shed some light on something that doesn’t quite jive. Of course, he didn’t know our back story and recent experiences and probably thought Karla was coming unglued for little or no reason.
Even though I pick on Karla for great examples, I realized that I do the same thing quite often. I get in a hurry to get where I want to go, do what I want to do and don’t take time to allow for someone else’s back story. I do this with the Lord a lot when I question and complain why this thing wasn’t resolved how I thought it should.
A good reminder for myself (and really for all) is found in the book of James. “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires.” Also, Ephesians 4 tells us to “be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you”. Hard things to do in the moment but in all things God will honor our efforts if we keep trying. The renowned philosopher Red Green sums it up as, “Remember, keep your stick on the ice”.
Blessings, Mark
P.S. Speaking of Sturgis Hall of Famers, again congratulations to our good friend Charlie “Chopper” Gilmore on his induction to the Hall. Well done and well deserved!
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 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
not so USELESS RAMBLINGS not so USELESS RAMBLINGS
The NEA
This past weekend was a hot one. The mid-September humidity, high temps, and triple digit heat index kept me from putting another 500+ miles on my bike, but since I was sitting at home, I got to spend time with my daughters and their 3 children for a nice family dinner. Two of my grandchildren are school age and the other just blessed our family a few short weeks ago, but the time will fly by and another one will be headed into the halls of “higher learning.” In case you’re unsure, those two words are in quotes to emphasize the fact that I think our education system is a fucking travesty.
A few of my previous pieces have highlighted my disdain for the public education system. I’m not talking about the entirety of it, but the vast majority of it is definitely in question. I know there are a lot of great teachers out there putting in the work to make sure our children get as good of an education as they can muster, despite the shackles from the corrupt Department of Education and the National Education Association (NEA).
The NEA originated in 1857 as the National Teachers Association, which merged in 1870 with the National Association of School Superintendents and the American Normal School Association to form the National Education Association. Its membership is right around 3 million; this includes educators, students, activists, workers, parents, and other supporters of public education. Let the record show that the NEA is a labor union and not a government agency like the National Endowment of Arts, which is often referred to as the NEA in some contexts. They are different organizations.
The NEA mission statement says, “Our mission is to advocate for education professionals and to unite our members and the nation to fulfill the promise of public education to prepare every student to succeed in a diverse and interdependent world.” They follow that up with a list of their core values: equal opportunity, a just society, democracy, professionalism, partnership, & collective action. They then close that out with this statement: “NEA also believes every student in America, regardless of family income or place of residence, deserves a quality education. In pursuing its mission, NEA has determined that we will focus the energy and resources of our 3.2 million members on improving the quality of teaching, increasing student achievement and making schools safer, better places to learn.”
While all of that may appear, at least on the surface, as noble intent, you have to dig into the bones of any organization to understand where it is truly coming from. It is my opinion that the NEA is just another group that is pushing the Liberal Lunatic agenda to indoctrinate our children. I don’t care if you like or agree with my opinion; my research supports it.
The NEA has partnered with the American Federation of Teachers (AFT), which could be another piece all on its own, but I highlight that here only to bring up the connection between NEA & AFT and major donors like George Soros & Tom Steyer; both extremely far left-wing billionaires that seemingly hate traditional American values. While the primary source of funding allegedly comes from membership dues, it also receives funding from other sources such as investments and donations.
Two notable sources of donations are Accenture and a Democrat aligned “super” political action committee (PAC) known as Garden State Forward. I highlight these two because George Soros has his boney fingers wrapped around them. Soros regularly donates to GFS and many other Democrat aligned organizations that all seem to have political influence. Accenture is a global services and consulting company that claims to “help agencies reinvent how they operate and deliver their mission faster with technology and AI.” Their main web page starts off with the heading, “Together We Reinvented” and then highlights their work in Artificial Intelligence and autonomous supply chains. It kind of seems like they want to take humans out of everything and Soros has increased his Accenture stock holdings by 105% in the 2nd quarter of 2024. All of this has helped to bolster the over $428 million in assets.
Okay, so now that I’ve rambled on too much about the background of the NEA, I have to talk about one of their recent gatherings in early July (2025), in Portland, Oregon (go figure) where they discussed their vision of the future education of our young people. It’s not good. At all.
Instead of this collective talking about reading, writing, math, the fact that 40% of fourth graders can’t read at grade level, or the ever-increasing dropout rates, they chose to talk about President Trump and what to install in the youth at school. So, it was all political rather than being about education. It was so bad that when some teachers did want to talk about the schools and real education, others shut them down and told them they needed to discuss how to fight President Trump.
They want to spend their resources to “defend democracy against Trump’s embrace of fascism.” They want to include the term fascism in NEA materials “to correctly characterize Donald Trump’s program and actions.” They want to talk about the “No Kings” protests, the riots in Los Angeles and across the nation, and how they support them. They also want to start incorporating anti-ice material in our school system.
The children of this nation are supposed to be learning their ABCs, 123’s, and world history; this should not include instilling a hatred for one political party or a particular president. This should not include gender ideology. This should not include telling our children that their own parents cannot be trusted or grilling the children about how many firearms are in the house.
While we spend billions of taxpayer dollars per year to fund our education system, less than half of 4th & 8th graders are performing at proficient levels in reading and math. Just in Chicago alone, 70% of children cannot read at grade level. How are these facts not the main focus at a National Education Association event? It’s a teacher’s union summit, for fucks sake! So how about talking about this nation’s shitty educational outcome rankings?
US taxpayers spend over $20,000 per student per year (that’s the 3rd highest amount worldwide) and the US doesn’t even rank in the top 10 for overall educational outcomes worldwide. I don’t care how far you lean right, or how far you lean left, or if you stand straight in the middle of the spectrum, the education of our young people should be very important to you. You should want your children to grow up knowing how to read a book, not listen to one. You should want your children to be able to write with pen and paper, not just on an electronic device. Your children should understand basic mathematics without using a calculator.
Honestly, if your main concerns for your childrens’ formative years are gender ideology, political affiliations, sexual orientation, and whether or not they hate all the groups that don’t align with your particular mindset, YOU have failed as a parent. If you are a teacher and your students know your sexual orientation, political leanings, and you’re teaching them all about your pronouns, YOU have failed as a teacher.
I want my grandkids to worry about if they remembered their PE sneakers or if they packed yesterday’s math homework assignment in their bag, not about how they can violently protest or how to evade and take down federal agents. I want them to understand how this great nation came to be and how we have persevered to become the global leader despite our rough beginnings, not have a seething hatred for the Constitution and other founding documents just because the men that authored them had some faults. I want them to look for the good and the beauty in this country, not spend their days telling people how much the United States of America sucks. I want them to understand this country is not without fault, but they can still love it… the same way that we love our children, despite theirs.
At least there is one bit of humor to be found after reading the coverage of the NEA meeting… the Lunatic Leftist Media told everyone that the NEA was all about a proper education for our children and wasn’t attempting to indoctrinate them in the classrooms. Yup, I guess that was all just another “extreme right-wing conspiracy theory.” Right?
- David McCoy - david@thunderroadsiowa.com - FaceBook.com/TRMIDave - FaceBook.com/TRMINSUR
I’ve been riding Harleys for at least 20 years. I served in the United States Army mid-90s MOS 88M (truck driver) part of the 5 0 cal team and Sharpshooter with the M16. I served my time honorably, and I am so thankful I had the guts to do it. More should, as we are capable of great things if we put our minds to it! I was ready to go to war if called, but I was never sent, I wasn’t afraid oddly. I was part of a mission hauling old runway matting across the count ry to build a border wall, but you don’t hear about that way back then, only since Trump! My main job for a good part of my life was driving truck. I had to get the license from scratch as they didn’t recognize the Army CDL in civilian life as they do now. I am licensed to drive anything! I love the feeling of being independent and enjoying the beautiful countryside and making a pretty good living. I’m fortunate to do that now as needed and model as I like. My modeling has spanned over the last couple of decades, doing pin up, Harley fashion, and more, but my focus has shifted more intently as of the last several years. Highlights for me would be Paris Fashion Week, N ew York Fashion Week (several times), and LA Fashion Week. I have gotten the honor of wearing some of the most beautiful angel wings on the catwalk, although catwalk was such a rush and I’m so thankful to have had those opportunities, my biggest passion is modeling fashion, boudoir, and traveling stateside. I’ve also been publi shed and made numerous covers, so the cover of Thunder Roads Magazine of Iowa is just an amazing addition to my accomplishments, and I’m so honored!
Team Rowdy Beaver Clubhouse
107 W. Main Street
Riceville, IA 50466
(641) 985-3508
Hours of Operation
Mon & Thurs: 4p - 9p
Tues & Wed: Closed
Fri & Sat: 11a - Close
Sun: 11a - 9p
A few years ago, I rode through Riceville and saw a storefront window filled with whole lotta pink and the words “Rowdy Beaver.” I circled the block to take another look to make sure I actually saw what I thought I saw. Sure enough, there it was in large letters, a cute cartoon beaver holding a beer mug, and the window next to it says, “Come for the food, stay for the drinks.” I was on another mission, but I vowed that I would return and check it out someday. It turns out that “someday” happened recently.
The wife and I were out visiting some of the 99 Freedom Rocks in the northeastern corner of the state and Riceville was on our route towards home. We both needed to stretch our legs and fill the void in our stomachs, so it was time to check out what this Rowdy Beaver was all about. Team Rowdy Beaver is a group of five women that participate in RAGBRAI. I guess they wanted to keep the rolling party that is RAGBRAI going year-round, so they opened a clubhouse (ie: bar/grill) in Riceville.
The building is your classic two-story brick faced storefront that most of us recognize from our youth. Inside is a large open space with high ceilings; booths along one wall, a few scattered tables with chairs down the center, and a large wrap-around bar at the back highlighted under a pink neon glow. A couple antique bicycles hang from the ceiling that is still adorned with the ornate metal tiles.
Heather and I seated ourselves in one of the high back booths and were immediately greeted by Justin, the bartender/server. He took our beverage order and offered a couple suggestions from the menu, then left us to peruse the selections. Every item on the menu is named with something relating to bicycles. Handlebars, pedals, brakes, derailleur, tires, you get the picture.
Heather decided on a 7-inch personal pizza that comes with everything on it. Some places call it a “garbage pizza” but at
Team Rowdy Beaver you’ll find it listed as the Dirt Bike. I opted for the Mountain Bike which consists of a bed of slow smoked pulled pork, layered in white mac ’n’ cheese, with a handful of bacon bits thrown on top.
It didn’t take long at all for our orders to arrive. The Dirt Bike was hot off the track, steam rising up off the molten cheese and golden crust. Heather tells me it had the right mix of crispy crust, but still a good layer of puff y doughiness to support the sauce, veggies, meats, and cheese. I have to take her word for it, because I won’t eat most of the veggies. The Mountain Bike had enough pulled pork for two thick sandwiches and just as much of the mac n cheese. The pork had a great smokey flavor and was really juicy. The noodles were perfectly cooked, tender but not mushy. The cheese was smooth and creamy, and the bacon bits were crunchy and plentiful. I must note that the leftovers I took home made for a great lunch the next day.
Our overall experience at Team Rowdy Beaver was great. The service was prompt and extremely friendly. The atmosphere is super laid back and the banter from the regulars got pretty comical. If you find yourself in the area, I’d definitely recommend a stop at Team Rowdy Beaver Clubhouse in Riceville. Make sure you tell them that Thunder Roads Magazine of Iowa sent you.
Sitting in for the Schwarte’s this month, David McCoy.
If you have a WRTE location for us to visit, please let me know at Melanie@thunderroadsiowa.com.
How can you tell if your husband is dead?
The sex is the same, but you get to use the remote.
How is a push-up bra like a bag of chips?
As soon as you open it, you realize it’s half empty.
What’s the difference between a genealogist and a gynecologist? A genealogist looks up the family tree, a gynecologist looks up the family bush.
My neighbor is mad at his wife for sunbathing nude. I personally am on the fence.
What is Moby Dick’s dad’s name? Papa Boner.
What type of bird gives the best head? A swallow.
A vagina is like the weather. Once it’s wet, it’s time to go inside.
I’ll admit it, I have a tremendous sex drive. My girlfriend lives 40 miles away.
A politician dies and stands in front of the pearly gates. Saint Peter says he will need to spend one day in hell. “It’s a requirement for people in your line of work,” he says. Scared of hell, the politician begins to try and charm Saint Peter into not going, but it’s no use. He drops him into the clouds and the politician falls in hell. He wakes up in a hotel room smelling bacon and hearing ocean waves crash. He opens his eyes to see a butler walking in with a Mai Tai, “Your drink, sir,” the butler says. “Who are you,” the politician says. “Satan!” He is too stunned to speak, so Satan fills the silence. “I know it’s a shock; people expect the whole eternal misery and really it’s just a lot of… what you would call, sins.” Satan hands over the Mai Tai, and the politician hears his wife’s voice calling. He looks out the window to see his wife and all his best friends. The man realizes he looks and feels 20 again and runs outside with his drink. Surrounded by his friends and beautiful wife, he spends the day surfing, drinking and catching up with everyone. The man and his wife, who haven’t seen each other in 6 years, talk and drink for hours before going to the room and making love like they did on their honeymoon. He is] the happiest he’s ever been. And then he wakes up suddenly staring at the pearly gates again. Saint Peter starts, “Okay, what will it be?” “I can’t imagine there’s anything better than hell,” the politician says. “Well, heaven is the angels with gold wings, whole chorus singing and white robes thing,” St Peter says. “Ummmm… no, I’ll take hell please,” responds the politician. “Yeah, that’s what people usually say,” Saint Peter says before dropping him again. Awakening to stifling darkness, distant screams pierce his ears. Flickering flames in the distance reveal tormented souls. A lightning flash exposes Satan beside him, wickedly grinning with a soldering iron and razorwire. “Where’s my wife? Where are my friends and all the drinks?” the politician shouts in despair. Satan leans in, “Yesterday, we were campaigning. But now, you have just cast your vote.”
Why does a mermaid wear seashells? Because she outgrew her B-shells.
My wife asked me to spoon in bed, but I’d rather fork.
Dear NASA: Your mom thought I was big enough. From, Pluto.
How do you make a pool table laugh? Tickle its balls.
This guy is dining alone in a fancy restaurant and there’s a beautiful redhead sitting at the next table. He’s been sneakily checking her out ever since he arrived, but doesn’t have the courage to start talking to her. Suddenly she sneezes, and her glass eye comes flying out of its socket toward the man. His reflexes kick in and he reaches out, plucks it out of the air, and hands it back to her. The redhead is mortified. “Oh my, I am so sorry,” she says as she pops her eye back into place. “Let me buy your dinner to make it up to you.” So, he joins her table and they enjoy a wonderful meal together. Afterwards they go to the theatre followed by drinks at a bar. They talk, they laugh, she shares her deepest dreams and he shares his. She listens. After paying for everything, she asks him if he would like to come to her place for a nightcap. He says yes and they return to her place. He ends up staying the night. The next morning, she cooks a gourmet meal with all the trimmings. The guy is amazed at how everything has been so perfect and how incredible this woman is. He can’t believe his luck. “You know,” he said, “you are the perfect woman, are you this nice to every guy you meet?” “No,” she replies, “You just happened to catch my eye.”
Why are women so bad at carpentry? Holds hand in the air with fingers about four inches apart. Because men keep telling them this is eight inches.
While everyone criticized my cooking, the smoke detector thought it was lit. (Stacey Lawyer)
What do you call the lesbian version of a cock block? A beaver dam.
Why do they say that eating yogurt and oysters will improve your sex life?
Because if you eat that stuff, you’ll eat anything.
My wife asked me if I wanted to try anal. I said I was quite open to it. Before I knew it, she put something up there. As I look back now, I don’t know what got into me.
What do you call a surprised Chinese man?
Ho Lee Fuk.
What made the dick go crazy?
“Someone was messing with his head.”
A young guy called Tommy bought a horse from a farmer for $250 and the farmer agreed to deliver the horse to
Tommy the following day. The next day though, the farmer turned up at Tommy’s house and said, “Sorry son, but I have some bad news, the horse died.” Tommy replied, “Well, then just give me my money back. That’s fine.” The farmer said, “Sorry, I can’t do that. I went and spent it already.” Tommy then said, “Okay, then, just bring me the dead horse.” The farmer was surprised and asked Tommy, “Why? What ya gonna do with him?” Tommy replied, “I’m going to raffle him off.” The farmer laughed and said, “You can’t raffle off a dead horse! Who’d buy a ticket?” Tommy answered, “Sure I can, just watch me. I just won’t tell anybody the horse is dead.” A month later, the farmer met up with Tommy again and asked, “What happened with that dead horse in the end. Did you raffle him off?” Tommy said, “I sure did. I sold 500 tickets at $5 a piece.” The farmer said, “Didn’t anyone complain?” Tommy smiled and said, “Just the guy who won. So, I gave him his $5 back.”
A blonde and a brunette are in an elevator. A man gets in, and he’s pretty attractive, so they’re both checking him out… but then they realize he has terrible dandruff. The guy gets off the elevator, and the brunette sighs and says, “You know that’s really tragic. We should give him some Head & Shoulders.” The blonde says, “Oh my gosh, yeah… but how do you give shoulders?”
An elderly retiree wobbled into an ice cream shop and carefully, slowly climbed up onto a counter stool. He wheezed for a minute, then ordered a chocolate sundae. “Crushed nuts?” The server asked. “No,” he answered. “Bad knees.”
A panda walks into a bar. He asks the bartender how he can get a little action for the night. The bartender motions to a young woman. She talks to the panda, and they go back to her place. After having sex, the panda abruptly leaves. The next night, the woman goes to the panda’s house. “You owe me money,” she says. “For what?” The woman rolls her eyes and explains, “I’m a prostitute.” The panda pulls out a dictionary and looks it up: “Prostitute: Has sex for money.” The panda says, “I don’t have to pay you. I’m a panda. Look it up.” She is about to protest when the panda hands her the dictionary. The woman looks up “panda” in the dictionary, and it reads, “Panda: Eats bush and leaves.”
I blame my mother for my poor life in the bedroom. All she told me was, ‘The man goes on top and the woman underneath.’ For three years my husband and I slept in bunk beds.”
A guy went to the emergency room, and the Doctor told him: “You have lettuce sticking up your butt. The man replied: “that is just the tip of the iceberg.”
A husband and wife who work for the circus go to an adoption agency looking to adopt a child, but the social workers there raise doubts about their suitability. So, the couple produces photos of their 50-foot motor home, which is clean and well maintained and equipped with a beautiful nursery. The social workers are satisfied by this but then raise concerns about the kind of education a child would receive while in the couple’s care. The husband puts their mind at ease, saying, “We’ve arranged for a full-time tutor who will teach the child all the usual subjects along with French, Mandarin, and computer skills.” Next though, the social workers express concern about a child being raised in a circus environment. This time the wife explains, “Our nanny is a certified expert in pediatric care, welfare, and diet.” The social workers are finally satisfied and ask the couple, “What age child are you hoping to adopt?” The husband says, “It doesn’t really matter, as long as the kid fits in the cannon.”
What’s the difference between light and hard? It’s easier to fall asleep with a light on.
A man walks into a barber shop and looks at the barber. He says, “How long until I can get a haircut?” The barber looks around his shop, then says, “Three hours.” The man leaves. Three hours go by, and he doesn’t come back. A few days later, the man is back at the barber shop, and he asks, “How long until I can get a haircut?” The barber looks around and says, “About two and a half hours.” The man nods and then leaves, and he doesn’t come back. One day, he comes in again and asks, “How long until I can get a haircut?” The barber, a bit hesitant, says, “About an hour. You can chill here if you want.” The man shakes his head and says, “It’s okay. I’ll be back,” then he leaves. The barber looks at one of his friends and says, “Follow that guy. I wanna know what he’s doing.” The friend nods and follows the stranger. When the friend gets back, he’s laughing. The barber says, “Where did he go?” The friend says, “To your house.”
“What do you call a woman who has lost her left leg and her left arm? I don’t know, but she’s all right! “
“What did the left eye say to the right eye? ‘Between you and me, something smells!’”
A guy comes home with a bouquet of flowers for his wife. “I suppose I’ll have to spread my legs now,” she says. “Why?” He asks. “Don’t you have a vase?!”
A man and a woman who had never met before found themselves assigned to the same sleeping room on a transcontinental train. Though initially embarrassed and uneasy over sharing a room, they were both very tired and fell asleep quickly, him in the upper bunk and her in the lower. At 1 am, the man leaned down and gently woke the woman saying, “Ma’am, I’m sorry to bother you, but would you be willing to reach into the clos-et to get me a second blanket? I’m awfully cold.” “I have a better idea,” she replied, “Just for the night, let’s pretend we’re married.” “Wow! That’s a great idea,” he ex-claimed. “Good,” she replied. “Get your own blanket,” she snapped back. After a moment of silence, he farted.
Where Are All the ‘New’ Motersickel Enthusiasts?
Having just returned from the Chief Blackhawk Antique Motorcycle Club Swap Meet in Davenport a few days ago, it became clear to me that I was expected to have a story to submit for publication in this issue of TRMI. Over the past few years, our Esteemed Leader, Editor, Friend, and Owner of TRMI and I have discussed the glaring absence of new and young riders coming on board to join we aging Motersickel Enthusiasts. Where are all the “New Kids?”
As most of you long-time and faithful readers of this great an award-winning magazine are aware, ‘Alice’ (LS) ‘Landshark’ is very much recent addition to the list of TRMI Contributors. What you-all may NOT be aware of is that this writer has ZERO formal training in the Literary Arts and prefers to fly TOTALLY by the seat of his pants! ADDitionally, this writer often struggles with the idea of having Column Fodder ready for Jefe Vernon (the BEST BOSS for which anyone could ask!) on or before the Tenth Day of each new month. This concept is quite new to me, and consequently, this month’s contribution will be a hurried effort. Please accept my apologies prior to reading onward...
When I was just six years old (1962), there were a bunch of Motorcycle Guys who would roar in to Smallsville almost every Saturday morning during the summer months. I well remember hearing them heading this way from Sioux City on their shiny chromed and painted LOUD motorcycles. Interstate 29 was under construction at that time, and Old U.S. Highway 77 was the only game in town if you wanted to leave Sioux City for destinations North and West. I could always tell when they had reached the ‘south’ end of town, as their downshifting and perfect throttle synchronization would rattle the glass in everyone’s windows! When the last engine was turned off, I knew exactly where they were, and I knew exactly what they were doing: They were on a ‘Run’ and they had all stopped at Martin’s Sinclair for fuel. After a few minutes, one or two at a time, they would re-ignite their beautiful choppers and take a very short ride across the street to back up to the curb in front of Larry’s Bar. After the Prospect had filled the tank on his machine and paid for all the riders ahead of him, he would fire up his chopper and back up to the curb in front of Larry’s.
My Dad was not named Martin, but out of respect to the business’ former owner, Papa Ray did not change the name of the business. Instead, he did business as Martin’s Sinclair for nearly four decades. Dad knew these tough and notorious bikers; not so much by their names, but more on the basis of their individual and collective reputations. He knew they were hard-core outlaws and treated them with courtesy and respect regardless. Maybe that’s why they came back week after week and year after year. Dad was a Good Man and always treated everyone fairly. By 1962, at least two of my older brothers were working at the ‘Gas House.’ They would come home and tell me stories about these Bad Ass Bikers from Sioux City and all about their beautiful choppers and their scantily-clad lady passengers. Years later, I was old enough to work for Dad, and got to witness the Club’s arrival and departure from his gas station
on those special Saturdays. And, just like my brothers before me, he taught me to treat these men well, a lesson I never forgot.
By the time I was 10 or 11 years old, I had chopped my 24” Murray Monarch bicycle. First parts to go were the luggage rack and that Gawd-Awful rear fender. Next were the ‘stock’ handlebars. The front fender was removed, flipped around, and mounted over the rear wheel. Ape-hangers and a banana seat, slammed down low on that front/rear fender, and I was In Like Flynn! Not too much time passed before I extended the forks, ditched the 24” front wheel and replaced it with a nice little 16-incher. (No sissy bar for me!)
When I was 12 years old, I sold off my chopped bicycle and bought an old Hiawatha Doodlebug with a ‘later’ 3.5 HP Briggs & Stratton pull-rope-start motor retro-fitted to the machine. As I recall, I paid Billy M. $20.00 for the machine from the proceeds of the Murray Chopper. Of course it wasn’t a ‘runner’ when I bought it, but nonetheless, Ol’ Papa Ray was NOT happy with me nor with my newlyacquired purchase. The only good news to him was the fact that the Doodlebug wasn’t in running condition and he was pretty sure that my interest in it would fade before I ever heard that little motor run. Dad was mistaken.
One of my older brothers, Dennis, aka “Porky”, taught me the basics of a four-cycle engine: Suck, Squash, Bang, Blow. It wasn’t very long before we had that motor purring like a kitten! Then came the understandings of a centrifugal clutch, drive chain, sprocket, and brakes. Papa Ray wasn’t very impressed with either of us by the time I took my Maiden Run on the little motor scooter, but by then it was too late. The two-wheeled motorized transportation bug had been installed in my DNA.
I rode the Dood El Bug for the rest of that summer and sold it to buy a go-cart in the fall, but the Motersickel Fever was now in my blood. It would be a few more years before I got back into the saddle, but the fire burned low and slow, waiting for me to return...
To be clear, Papa Ray never wanted any of his eight sons to be Motorcycle Guys. He believed motorcycles to be dangerous and believed that all of his sons were just wild enough to be badly injured or killed while riding motorcycles. As far as I know, I am the only of his sons to ever have a valid Motorcycle Endorsement on their Drivers License. At one time, of my other older brothers was riding
another fellow’s Yamaha one summer evening. He was wearing a helmet, but no eye protection, gloves, boots, jacket nor any other protective gear. He caught a Junebug in the eye and instinctively let go of the handlebars and put both hands over his eye. Of course he lost control of the bike, laid it down and slid down the old blacktop road. The bike went into the ditch and my brother laid unconscious on the centerline, bleeding from several cuts and scrapes. It’s no wonder The Old Man had such a negative attitude about his Boyz and Motersickels.
So, what does all this gibberish have to do with New Kids joining us in the Fellowship of the Road?
I am not really certain, but I do believe there is a connection.
We, the Established Riders of Today, should be more conscientious of our actions and attitudes when we are around New Kids on Motersickels as well as Prospective New Kids on Motersickels. As I have said in earlier writings in this publication, “There are already enough people against us, we damn sure can’t afford to be against each other.” When we encounter Riders who choose to own and operate bikes different than the machines we choose to ride, the last thing we should do is shun them, even in the slightest way. We should embrace them, encourage them, and welcome them to our Fraternity. When we have an opportunity to give a Little Kid a ride on our bikes, we should do it and do it ‘right.’ There is absolutely nothing good to come of scaring Little Kids, New Kids or Prospective New Kids.
We are morally obligated to be considerate of others’ doubts and fears of us. It’s a fine line between the rightly earned respect we deserve from Citizens and unnecessary fear we may inadvertently (or intentionally) impose upon them. If we fail to attract New Kids to our Fellowship, we may well be the Last of a Dying Breed. Who will follow in our footprints? How do we attract the future generations? Who will be riding our motersickels when we’re gone? Will anyone be willing to ride them? Or will they simply be crushed and shredded for their weight in scrap?
“You’ll catch more flies with honey than you will with vinegar.” ~An Employer I had back in the late-Seventies~
Love and Respect to All, Alice (LS) Landshark
Special Thanks to the EFMC Sioux City, “Where it all began!”
You fellas imprinted me from the very beginning.
Special Thanks to Bill Wilson and the HP.
You’ve kept me out of jails, hospitals and ditches since 1985.
BIG Thanks to Mom and Dad! I love you and miss you both.
What Happens if you Fall Short?
Time for a reset, time to sit back, maybe on my patio, the deck, out in the woods. I need a campfire, a big one, not some pussy ass propane decor end table one either, I mean a snap, crackle and some serious pops fire. The kind of flames that will melt your boots when you get too close and suddenly your feet feel warmer than they should and the smell of burning leather and rubber hits the nostrils in a way that it shouldn’t. Yea, a drink needs to be in one hand and I am pretty sure a good cigar in the other. No, I don’t need a blue tooth speaker playing the hottest Jams or Divorced Dad Rock (by the way that is a great playlist on Spotify. Look it up, I jam it while I am riding a great deal. Banger after banger on that list, someone really put some work into it) but no music will be needed or even wanted. I want to hear the fire crackle and a coyote make some noise off yonder.
Side note, if you don’t know how far away “off yonder” is, you clearly have lived a life with way too much damn pavement under your feet, I suggest spending some time barefoot in the dirt, sand, leaves, or whatever. You need an Earthly connection and a reset more than I do! Anyone that has ever spent time outdoors knows what “off yonder” means and I am damn sure more bikers do.
Summer is my favorite season; it truly is but I don’t do fires in the summer and my campfire time is my reset time. My mental clarity time, call it my zone out time, a time to filter my thoughts, a time to put the damn phone away, reset my brain and find a bit of nature’s healing with the constant mental stimulation we all face every waking moment. My riding does offer some clarity, when I am doing to solo. Now, I love it when I ride with friends and having my ride or die on the back is the best. She feels and smells a lot better on the bike than I do. But when I am riding with others or my wife, I can’t lose myself as much of course. Worrying about other riders, trying to anticipate any issues, heightened focus and it’s way more intense with my wife on the back. The mother of most of my children, by best friend, ride or die, I will be damned if I am going to let anything happen to my back seat passenger princess.
That said, when I am solo I am more relaxed, confident in my abilities, comfortable in my own little world, not to say I am not careful and cautious, but I ride more at ease.
Same with a fire. The majority of my fires are solo and that is by design. No, it’s not because I don’t have any friends that wanna hang out, or at least I don’t think that is the case, it’s mostly that I don’t put a lot of planning into being around a fire. I don’t set up social media event pages. “Fire with Crash” bring snacks, 6:30-9:30 Thursday. That’s not happening. Many times, I will be dinking around my shed, looking for something, putting something away, doing what shop/shed dwellers do and I will look at my fire pit and
instincts take over, the next thing you know I am on my “sitting log” watching the flames start their dance. I mean, it’s not like I can control it, well, maybe I can, it’s similar to seeing a pair of ta-tas in the wild, I know I am just grateful the situation is what it is. #freetheboobies.
I really need to reset for a couple of reasons and the end of the summer and the onslaught of autumn this year is hitting me in a strange, almost unpredictable way. It’s more than knowing the end of the riding season is near, that happens because of where I chose to live, I love the Fall, the colors, the smells, the harvest, the increase of gun powder in my world, it’s all fantastic to embrace and I am not ready for any of it.
I feel there are items of summer I have left on the table. Sure, I always wish I would have ridden more, hell even when I ride a lot, I wish I would have ridden more. I am happy I did some of the rides that I did this year, blowing off a day from life’s responsibilities to burn up around 400 miles to visit my old man’s last living friend was worth every single mile. Ransom “Tuesday” when I wasn’t going to need my truck for work and was afforded that shot to ride back and forth is always a day I love.
It’s always, I mean ALWAYS dark when I leave for work, no matter the time of the year, and when I back out of the driveway and my LED headlight brightens the path, even though I am going to work, it makes me just so damn happy when I am on my Wing. Bonus riding, when I am done with my radio show and need to hit either my store, the warehouse or other office, by the time my day is over, it’s 60-70 miles of saddle time, not a great deal but better than my F-150 any chance I can get.
Back to what I was saying about the summer morphing into the autumn season, and again permit me to retort, I love the fall I do, and winter for that matter, I can find things to do outdoors all year long and find a beauty in nature, a peaceful, easy feeling, (Please don’t sue me Don Henley) that is hard to process, it’s just that I have this feeling I didn’t check off as much of the summer as I wanted to do.
Or in reality, needed to do.
I am a guy that lives with goals, I have to set them to find a focus, to be driven, then get done the thing that people rely on me to do. It might be the guys that the bank, my boss, my partners, my employees, my radio listeners, the readers of this column, my kids, family or wife, we have people that count on us to get the crap done we need to get done and the only way I can get all that “crap” done is to set down some goals, create and plan and execute it. Even when it comes to the little things, I need to focus and set a goal, it works, for me at least and maybe there is a better path. I mean I promise you if there is a better path, I am open to people teaching me a better way! Yea, I am old as balls but still have an open mind about learning and improving. Everyone needs “coaching’ Tiger Woods had a swing coach, Tom Brady, Peyton, all had coaches. Keep Learning. Keep Growing and be open.
I didn’t, I won’t achieve so many of my goals this year. But I am not missing them by much and by any true measure… so far we are on track.
But that feeling of summer leaving, is leaving me in need of a reset.
A fire will do that.
Until Next Month.
Enjoy The Journey.
Todd “Crash” Davis
Back in November of 2010, a handful of months after taking over Thunder Roads Magazine of Iowa, we got this letter from Dick Bridge of Vinton, Iowa. He added a couple of photos to the envelope he sent of bikes from his past and we were intrigued by this cat that took the time to write a four-page letter. Next chance we got in 2011, we got over to be able to meet Dick in person and we hit it off. We became friends and got to hear many stories of his past riding history, his love of racing, his beer can collection, his time in the United States Marine Corp, and he offered us his cache of Harley-Davidson Enthusiast magazines. He had a batch of other miscellaneous motorcycle related stuff, but the main part of the purchase was every Enthusiast from 1948 until 1974. All of these had been meticulously kept and well organized, kept in chronological order and grouped by year. Dick told us that he had recently turned down an offer from Frank Fritz for them for $1500. The denial stemmed from his fear that they would be sold off individually, like the one from 1956 with Elvis on the cover is worth a few dollars, and he did not want his collection broken up by someone that did not love them. When I saw the collection, and always looking for content for the magazine, I thought it would be a great purchase for the historical basis and for some cool stuff to share from the past, like a blast from the past type of deal. That is how the monthly feature “Blast from the Past” was born. We purchased this collection from Dick, whom became a great friend of us and the magazine. When Melanie came into the picture, she took a liking to the old guy as well, and we always looked forward to being able to chat with Dick. We wanted to share this letter with our readers as a blast from the past itself, and talk about the story about how this came to be. Dick passed after a long and fruitful life in 2022, but it is almost like he lives on through our “Blast from the Past” pages every month in the magazine. We hope you enjoy the letter as much as we have.
Vernon and Melanie
Sep 25-28 41st Annual MRF Meeting of the Minds Shreveport, LA
