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2017 Gathering of Eagles: Part 1

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Originally Published in Southeastern Rider Magazine, December 2017 Monday, June 19th, 2017 For nearly the last two decades, I have made a once a year trip to gather with my fellow brother and sister riders who make up Cruiser Club, USA. Gathering of Eagles started out being hosted by the chapters of the club that dotted across the country. As the event matured, so did our planning, and recently we moved to holding the event at a vacation destination. For the twenty-first edition, the Eagles Gathered in Fontana Damn, North Carolina. Even though this meant the event was in the same state that I reside, don’t go thinking that I can’t figure out a way to leave the state on my way there. As you are about to find out, we would spend most of the day across the border. This is also Kasey and I’s vacation for the year, and in that spirit, my riding partner decided she needed a break from making meals, so our first stop would be breakfast. We left Locust, North Carolina and headed south

Taking a Wild Ride

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Originally Published in Southeastern Rider Magazine, October 2017 So I’m going to start off with a confession. Nothing wild really happened during this ride except for the destination, the Pee Dee River National Wildlife Refuge. These preserves can be a great destination, and make for an enjoyable day when you pair it with a scenic route. It was a Sunday in May, mid-morning, and we had a good sized breakfast in our bellies. We were looking to check out the wildlife area, then find a place for a bite to eat. Being from Indiana, I’m used to cool temperatures still hanging around on May mornings, but Tar Heel weather is a bit warmer this time of year. After filling the belly of my Honda VTX 1800, we headed south on Highway 200, also known as Central Avenue. It took a few minutes for the V-Twin engine to heat up and mix with the cool air whipping by. The sky had much more blue than gray, and the sun was also helping to warm things up. After we crossed Highway 24/27, we took a left

Going with the Flo

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Originally Published in Southeastern Rider Magazine, August 2017 I started riding when I was four or five, which occurred in the early 1970’s. As a kid, I would go out with my father and we would buy motorcycles, most of them in pieces scattered in multiple boxes. We brought them home, put them back together, road them, and finally, sold them, usually for a little profit. Most of the sellers and buyers were men. Once, when my dad had a black chopper, with ribbons painted down the tank, that he got running, and then found out that he didn’t like a bike with an extended fork. So it went up for sale. The eventual buyer was a single lady, probably in her thirties, with long blonde hair. She showed up in a Chevrolet El Camino, while wearing a white leather jump suit. One with a zipper down the front, and it was probably zipped lower than it needed to be. My mom said she wasn’t aware that my, my brother, and my father’s jaws could drop so far. Just like how everything else has changed si