I altered my flight twice saying “Fuck it” to a return ticket in order to make it for Billy Lane’s Sons of Speed. I originally had plans for different dates but didn’t want to miss the opportunity to hang in the pits. Moonshiner Crazy Chuck requested my presence and I made sure to deliver. Kicking off Bike Week watching vintage Harley’s race from the best seats in the house seemed like a no brainer. As we all know by now, my itinerary is subject to numerous flight changes and always on my list of unnecessary things to-do ( one of the many reasons why I gather I’m single). My Long time friend Nick and also my ride to the airport, insisted a return flight was necessary and used points to book me one before prices went up and I was left stranded on my own accord. My younger self would have never carelessly booked a flight with no way home. I can see how this is ass-backward but as I’m getting older, throwing caution to the wind and allowing magic to happen has proven to put me in some really amazing situations. With the house still semi-clean from my previous trip to Milwaukee, and even a few more flight changes ( yeah yeah, I know), all that remained was to switch out my suitcase with remnants of layered Wisco clothing and heated socks for more appropriate Florida attire and snuggle up with the dogs.
I was welcomed at the airport by Big Bob from “I Love Badventures” and well known mic man for Willie’s Chopper Time behind the wheel of a big red truck. Retro and Mouse of the Chrome Divas, a flask of Jameson in hand and a chaser of sprite for the ride home was a surprise and jumpstart into the first night of Bike Week in Florida. So the party begins. We grabbed some grub at Bahamas Breeze before hitting a hot lap down Main Street. Bikes lined all the way down. Loud music came out of every building. Tons of touristy shopping, go go dancers with ass and titties out, and bars up and down the row. We stopped into each bar along the way starting at Boot Hill Saloon . Hit up Dirty Harry’s and had a beer in each one all the way down and back. Man these Divas can get down!! I quickly became aware that these ladies can party with the best of em. They showed me that it would be a week of keeping up and I accepted the challenge. I can throw em back but when work and school are top priority, my nights at home are early and quiet. Milwaukee was a short practice session for what was in-store.
Sleep was needed after a long day of travel as the races started early the next morning. Mouse and Scrappy generously gave me a couch to crash on in their Florida room. I made my home here for the next 5 days which unexpectedly turned into 11. This cute little home had angels in cases that Scrappy took pride into telling me about. Her collection collided with mouses shelves of shot glasses from every place she’s visited, was surrounded by pictures of Harley’s on the walls and die-cast models in the kitchen. There was no doubt what Mouse’s favorite color was. Surrounded by blankets and pillows accented with black and engulfed in pink a large glittery pillow lay atop her bed stating the word “Diva”. This Chrome Diva was nothing short of a Queen.
March 2nd kicked off Sons of Speed. Waking at 630, I felt anything but tired. Having been up late and jet lagged 3 hours, it was somehow like Christmas. The rare ones where I received birthday paper and pie. I prefer it over cake. Today was like pie on my birthday. We were the first to arrive and waited for Chuck at the main gate. I could tell he couldn’t see me through the tinted windows as I hopped out. His face lit up and he smiled big. He was undeniably happy and surprised to see me. A cute blonde sat in the passenger seat. That’s when I met Gnarly Karly for the first time. A motorcycle high wire rider? Holy shit. A Female high wire entertainer. Wow. Impressive. This would be the beginning of many memories made as now were planning a trip to Utah in the near future. Bob and I waited outside for our passes as Chucks umbrella girls went in to help him set up. We ran in to Barbie at the gate. Jason Theurer snapped a photo of us entering. He was one of the amazing photographers and legends that were spotted during this amazing event. Watching Brian Helm, Eddie Phillips, Michael Lichter and Mad Stork in action were pretty amazing and inspiring sites. Had some shark bites a quick convo with Chuck Garrick and walked the crowd. Berry Wardlaw and his bad boy creation stood tall near pace bikes built by Steve Coe. This sculpture he created out of aluminum was signed by everyone at the track. Holding a wrench and an engine where a burger would typically go, this bad boy made the perfect statement. This event was something special. These bikes being raced in present day by young and old, have survived the tests of time by the amount of love, dedication and care from those who enjoy motorcycles and speed. I was able to stand on the track as close as you can get to watch these century-old Harley’s rush by. Hands down, one of the best damn days I have ever had. I felt a sense of belonging, a deep-rooted connection to this community. It was a homecoming of sorts, a realization that this was where I was meant to be. With Barbie by my side, we inhaled the smell of fuel and smiled. I soaked in every moment. My lack of memory and the problems I have always had battling ADHD slightly dissipated and I became sharper that day. I wanted to know these people. Their history. Who they were and listen to their stories. For the first time in a long time wanted to remember everything.
After a long day at the track we powered up with a quick bite at Applebees, and a trip to the Dog House we went. Big bob, our driver for the evening was a good sport as he towed the Divas and my little ass all over town. We sat at a bench, laughed, drank and shared stories. I savored the company as I was witnessing camaraderie and love from 3 woman whom I would’ve never met if I hadn’t went on that cruise. Buzz the newest member met that night, decided to join us on the High Seas Rally later this year.
March 3rd was the memorial breakfast for our dear friend Gary Baas. Heather and John joined us and I met Shantell for the first time. I shared stories with Jeff, a few tears with Karen and amidst the coffee and chatter, I paused to look around and admired this Motley Crew of individuals I have come to adore. The Hamptons restaurant was where Gary loved to eat. It was now a place that held new memories shared with everyone. The love Karen had for Gary was multiplied and filled with more love by her and everyone around her. They had met on the High Seas Rally as well and have been dating for the last year. He left this world abruptly while riding his motorcycle. He made sure he touched our lives with good times and positivity before he departed. One of the things I’ll never forget was riding in the back of his pickup with Barbie leaving the cruise. Karen and Mouse squished in the front while we sat on top of luggage in the bed. Gary backed out and smashed right into a pole. “What the fuck was that?’ He didn’t even hesitate and drove straight to breakfast. After we parked and he stepped out to look, he said, “Well, now I can get that new chrome bumper I always wanted.” All I could think was “Damn, I wish I could be that positive.” I for sure without a doubt would be pissed if i was in his shoes. I was thankful and honored to have been there to celebrate his life.
Full of coffee and eggs, we parted ways temporarily to switch rides for Mouse’s hot pink trike. This trike was wild! With a 80s Honda front end and running boards off a VW bus, this Volkswagen engine powered trike was one of the craziest rednecky Frankenstein creations I’ve seen. It made me smile. Mouse engaged in story telling time where she painted a picture of her hacking the front end off with a Sawzall blade bought from Home Depot. This trike fucked. We hopped on and I kicked back to enjoy the ride. It stormed abruptly as it does in Florida. A small window of time allowed us ride to Karen’s where we chilled with White Claws in hand as we waited it out. When the thunder rolled on and the sun peaked out above, we found our way to the light house and ate at Hidden Treasure, a hot spot for Bike Week riders right along the water. Upon a wanted scenery change, our pink steed decided to die when we tried to dip. The fuker just didn’t want to start. Only being a mechanic for a short period of time, I wasn’t able to help and we took an Uber to get the car.
We made our way down to the Iron Horse to see Whey Jennings perform. Walking through this wooden play ground for bikers, it was easy to spot our crew. We watched the wall of death and took pictures with Whey. I bonded with Amy Jacques and Mary Spearing. Instantly clicked. Myyyyyy people. We laughed and danced. We laughed some more and drank, met Mickey and Chappy, original members of David Allen Coe band, watched a great show, walked around, shopped and ate some steak tips. Good God let me tell you about steak tips. The best quarter sized balls of meat I’ve ever put in my mouth. Truth. If you haven’t had them, well you just ought to. The culture mixed in with the different types of people this place attracted made a melting pot of bikers from all over. From baggers to choppers, Japanese bikes and Harley’s upon Harley’s. There were dirty bikers, glittery jeans, vintage mamas, and kids that looked like they were too young to ride. A true meld of all kinds. No judgement. No separation. No negativity. Just common denominators of motorcycles, and nothing but good times.
Upon my late start to day 4, I was able to finish blog number 2 while Mouse was at work. After tons of editing re-writing, cutting stuff and adding a few things I’ve realized that my writing hat needs some work. Having ADHD and also slightly on the spectrum, finding the focus with the flow and the correct words has deemed to be somewhat of a challenge. I have no clue who my audience is, if I even have one or what will come. I do feel sharing these experiences with who ever wants to read them, might project the message that when you surround yourself with love and like minded individuals, magic happens. I hope that my voice shines through and that as I write my authentic self will step forward more. I hope my ego will subside to send even cooler messages and become a story teller like those before me.
We had Bob help us tow the trike back and Jeff helped us diagnose and get parts. A new coil, battery and some spark plugs later we were back on the road. We decided to take the car as more drinks were to be involved. My Diva hosts decided that Cackleberry camp ground was a must along with a picture request next to the infamous giant cock. Yes. A big ass rooster. John and Heather from the John and Heather show, who also photograph for Born to Ride Magazine took up residency there for the week. We were welcomed into their trailer and talked about photography and new adventures. John shared his publications and future dreams of following his passion. Sturgis 2024 will be their first this year and they will be covering footage at the Buffalo Chip for everyone to see. Another iconic place I will have to visit. We walked around as vendors were shutting down. The Divas stated that in comparison to years before the quiet campground and lack of night life at the Cabbage Patch was unusual. 8:30pm but feeling like 3am to me, we pushed on. We watched a band play and a few druken Cabbabge Patch dwellers made a failed attempt to get me to dance. Not enough steam and not enough drinks, as I politely declined. A place where watching took the lead. One thing on my mind was, where were the chopper shows. I would find my self at one of the greatest ones in the nation in days to come. But for now, some more sleep.
When Mouse arrived at home after her crossing guard duties, we hopped on that pink Frankenstein of a 3 wheeler and headed to Destination Daytona right behind Chuck and Big Bob. I spotted Karly on our way in and she jumped on with Chuck. We headed to Sinners and Saints where I had one of the best BLTs I’ve had in a while. The sandwiches are massive, so sharing is something to be considered. Mouse had to hit the road to head back to the school and my mission was to find Chuck and Bob to hitch a ride on a bike back home. Yes to 2 wheels. We decided today was the day for blurry vision. Jack which is not my first choice was on the menu. Learning quickly that a shot in Daytona is the size of a rocks glass and cheaper than a bottle of water in California I accepted my fate. We watched the girls in the globe spin around. Saw grown men get slapped after being force fed a shot, followed by a cup of water to the face. We walked around. Karly became my wing woman as we shopped around. Daytonas vendors were a lot different than what I’m accustomed to. Back home where all the bunnies are in 70s swag, dressed to the 9,s and rarely a hair out of place, here in Daytona, I could see not one concho belt or bell bottom in sight. I hopped on Crazy Chuck’s deuce and rode alongside Bob and Karly to attend one of the oldest block party’s in Daytona history. A street of homes owned by friends to carry out a tradition that most of the Daytona elite partake in. We drank, we ate, we drank some more. I was able to sit and talk motorcycles with Daren and Coe. Daren being Coes right hand man of 42 years took a liking to me. He was a sweet man with excitement in his voice every time he talked. Coe and I spoke briefly of my Matchless and refereed me to a friend that will hopefully aid me in the rare British build in the future. A name at that moment, that would escape me. I thanked Rocky for inviting us into his home. I met Luke another sons of speed racer who graciously let me charge my phone in his truck and had a wonderful conversation with Michael Lichter, one of easy riders photographers over the last 40 years. Karly and I waked to the distillery down the street and sampled what I think may have been rum. We went to the river and I watched as my new found soul sister striped down to take a dip. Getting stuck in the mud with the idea of grounding in the river became something almost regrettable. Headed back to the house, having more shots and feeding Karly more fireball I escaped with Chuck for a little to see if we could catch Tacos and Burnouts, another Daytona favorite. We rode around with great weather and wind in our hair. Damn I need a bike. A working one, is all I could think. Cops being the stop to our adventure we decided to mob over the bridges a few more times and head back to the party. Entering the Florida room that my Divas had ventured into I came across the largest joint I’ve seen rolled in my life. Two hours of grinding weed, and idk how many raw papers put together, this thing was larger than a wrapping paper roll. Some real Cheech and Chong shit. Not being a smoker I almost had it in me to join just to say I did but who am I kidding. My party would have stopped right there. The Divas decided it was time to roll. We stole Karly and headed to Main St. More blurred vision. With my phone dead and no evidence the night ever existed, we found our way back to Mouse’s where Karly took over the living room sofa expressing gratitude for one of the best nights she’s had in a long time.
Somewhere in yesterdays debacle before the phone died and my awaited phone call that never came, my flight was changed yet again. Instead of returning on Wednesday, Monday was now when I would be departing. And the reason this magic happened would be very clear in only a short few hours. We started off at Giuseppes pizza for the my first chopper show of bike week. My fave. Who doesn’t like choppers and pizza. Chuck and Karly linked up and we ate next to the wooden carving of Chuck and the sculpture of another big boy by Berry Wardlaw. I was able to snap a few shots of some of my favorite choppers, eat some bomb pizza and kick back with familiar faces. On to the next. Last Resort was where Aileen Wuornos hung out. Serial killer to at least 7 truckers. Mannequins, coffins and a shrine dedicated to the killer lady were only a few of the decorations that adorned the premises. What a freakin’ weird place. This was where my first encounter with someone who had an opinion about California was delivered. Politely but nonetheless in my face. I shrugged and moved on. My stomach so full of bubbles was struggling to keep up. Next stop. The Other Place hosted another chopper show. We drank some more. Shovelhead Coalition was the host of this one. Karly and I decided to switch gears and go for Jack. Again, another glass of alcohol. We shared it. We decided to split and head on to the Dog House with just the Divas. How in the fuck do these ladies do this! Im loosing this battle to jet lag and booze but I must go on. Another shot. Here we go now. Now this is where RC and David enter scene. Def country boys with accents, one in a cowboy hat with a cut on. We drank some more. Gentlemen they were, buying all of our drinks. On to the next but now with two guys in tow. Both with baggers. There I was on the back of two wheel again. We followed Karen and Mouse to First Turn where we wrote our names on the walls. Shutting it down Karen and Mouse decided the night was up. I had been primed by the whiskey and wasn’t ready just yet. On the back of David’s bike now we headed to another bar. A nice low key dive where 10 people sat and an open pool table was. After witnessing key bumps being passed around, a few songs on the juke box in and a couple rounds of pool, I decided to reign it in and catch an Uber. Home before 2am, my cozy Florida room couch was starting to feel more like home.
Fuck. It’s only Thursday. How am I going to last. Water, food and 30 milligrams of Adderall later I was right as rain (Calm down, I'm prescribed 40mg, and yes sometimes it’s that bad).Todays the big one. Willie’s Chopper Time at Tropical Tattoo was where the party was, is and will continue to be for years to come. Going on 32 years. Big Bob, the mic man for this event, raffled off tattoo prizes, guns and even the shirt off his back for our veterans. More choppers. Man I love this shit. I hung with Karly as we shared some bourbon and tales of broherhood with some O.G. Outlaws. I ran into 4 more people who recognized me from the cruise. What a small fuken world. I caught up with Xavier Muriel another high seas builder. Walked around and witnessed probably one of the largest turn outs to Willie’s in all its years with Chris’s Callen taking home a well deserved Best Chopper award for Hookin and Bookin. After Willie’s, we decided to grab the car and head to the traditional Bike Week pool party at Coe’s. A game of 9 ball that has been traditionally going on for 37 years. Coeville. A hidden gem, a home and a museum nested behind a fenced in compound. At first glance nothing but an open space and a barn to the unfamiliar. Upon entering the pool room the smell of smoke filled the air. No one was playing this night. Barbie led me to a door that seemed to come out of the book Narina. Following her into the dark, fumbling to find hidden light switches I gasped as the flick of the switch shot the lights on. Two more glass pane doors in front of what appeared to be chandeliers illuminating something that looked liked a ballrooom. As the doors opened and we walked on the brick an marble lined make-shift floors, my mouth hung open. Motorcycles and trophies. More trophies. Mannequins and bikes. Bikes all built by Coe. The mannequins acted as guardians to this secret treasure. Holy shit I didn’t know the extent of how incredible this man was and is. Ive heard stories, but this is one of those see it to believe it moments. Mary came into give us a guided tour. Showing us his first bike bought and built into a creation of his own. From the pace bike he road just days before at Sons of Speed to the sidecar he dug up from the mud and fully restored, we were fortunate to walk through this time capsule Coe calls his home. We headed into another portion of the barn where he had more bikes. This one consisted of Japanese bikes, old sewing machines, boat motors and lofts that were prior sleeping quarters of Mary and guests from the past. A fire engine, a Plymouth and a few more super rare vehicles also took up space. We moved on to the shop, where a new project was always on the lift. Headed out the back where a lit up service sign cast an orange glow back to the yard. I started to make my way to the fire pit when Daren approached me and asked if had the tour of the joint. I told him I had, when he asked if I had seen the engine room. What! There’s more?? Engine room? How big is this freakin place. He excitedly grabbed his flashlight and me by the hand. Somehow I managed to not see where the rest of the group went and wandered off. ADHD in full effect. I blame it on the glowing service sign, as that was the point where I think I squirreled to Daren. Im glad I did. He brought me in to the engine room where he told me he spent 10 years of his life. A red Harley tank worth about 300 bucks just sat on a coffee table like it wasn’t touched in forever. There was oddly not a bit of dust. There were swords and guns in cases. Knives on display. A room I think any man that loves motorcycles would be happy to live in. We headed back into the barn where Daren told me to climb the ladder to the loft. He gave me the light. I was able to peer in and see parts for at least 30 feet until darkness. Wow. A collection of artillery a true builder with great knowledge has gathered over his lifetime. What an amazing sight. We walked back to the fire pit where he playfully said “You wont believe what she did to me in there.” I replied with “Shh, you weren’t supposed to tell them. It’s our little secret .”We sat and talked a while. Daren told me stories of the days he built the wall of death with Rhett Rotten. A unpracticed jump, which landed Daren some broken ribs, caused the pain he’d be in while building the wall in Johnston Pennsylvania. He trucked through it with only a few meds. Stories of money not paid and a friendship mended. I listened intently as if I knew what his future held. He brought up my Matchless again. “Remember who your supposed to contact?” Shit. I vaguely remember this convo at Rocky’s. Damn it. Why am I like this. “Coe! Who was she suppose to contact?” Coe in the distance “Beno Rodie” look him up. Just google him.”
And that’s I will do. Beno, im coming for you. We told jokes around the fire and drank moonshine. At the end of the night we decided to part ways. Hugs were given. An accidental boob grab between Daren and Karly occurred and we all had a good laugh. Playful attempts to get me to let Daren cop a feel were made, more jokes, and more laughter. Had I known it woulda been the last boob Daren grabbed, I woulda let him do it twice. We received a text the next morning that Daren had passed away. I was so grateful I was able to hear stories and share in some amazing moments with this man. Someone whom I wish I had much more time with. Like Gary, one could tell how much this man was loved and what he meant to the community. Im glad the chapter in my book had the pleasure of having these two in it.
In loving Memory
Now, for the weekend and my last one in Daytona. I took a ride with Big Bob and Karen to North Turn to help promote some of Chucks Purple Jesus with Karly. We stared at the ocean and I tried to imagine what the races looked and sounded like when they were on that sand. If time travel was an option, this would be one of the places id bebop to. Afterwards, we headed to Boondocks a little hidden jem. We ate some food and by Bobs’ instruction we saved our fries. He brought us to the edge of the walkway and sprayed the top of the water with left over crumbs. Fucking catfish! Hundreds of them! They all swarmed and skimmed the surface looking for tidbits of food. Man, that was cool. This was something bred into those fish’s dna over the years of saved fries sprinkling the surface. The only sign in sight stated, “Dont feed the birds.”
After full bellies we took off to get our little gang of Divas to the fairgrounds. This is where the yearly bike burning took place. A huge structure built out of lumber to resemble a rider on his motorcycle. People gathered around to sign the massive piece. Loved ones names and sayings. Dates with notes and stickers. It was a little surreal writing the names of our loved ones that were now riding in the sky on the structure. We walked around the biker carnival and at 10pm on the dot, watched the sky light up with fire. The bike cast a glow on everyone near by. A fire hose spraying water mixed with embers blowing in the breeze. It made showers of red glowing sprinkles in the sky. Magic baby. Although a tourist destination, a must see for at least one time is what I recommend. I’d like to imagine that a couple of those embers were Gary and Daren waving as they flew
The next morning we struggled with the time change. Losing an hour on a very eventful 9 days proved to be a huge challenge. We managed to get the trike over to Karen’s with time to spare as we had a Sisterhood Diva Ride to attend. We all met in a parking lot at about 930am. Some on trikes, some on Harleys. I spotted an Indian and a Honda somewhere in the mix as well. All women. All ages. And all pretty fucking amazing. These chics were so rad and I could only think that if and when I would reach some of their ages that I could only hope to be this fearless and fun. We stopped at one of the largest most beautiful trees in Florida. Gary loved this tree, and even with how tall he is I imagine how small he must have looked when he gave it a hug. We rode the loop to Caribbean Jacks where we ate and talked. After a nice lunch we headed back to drop off the bike, switch to the cars and head to the Cabbage Patch to see if we could catch Shantell in the coleslaw wrestle. We were way late and caught the tail end of two ladies duking it out in sloppy mess of cabbage.
We decided before we called it a night to stop by Coes again. There was nothing more that I wanted to do but see more friends and hug them tightly. I climbed up on one of the chairs Barbie had made into stadium seating. Positioned in a way to perfectly witness a 37 year old ritual. A nine ball game amongst friends. A cloud of smoke hovered in the air. It dusted the room and transformed it into a scene from a movie made well before my time. A mannequin with black hair and golden glasses in the corner, Coe in his chair and shit talking taking place between friends who’ve shared nothing short of a million years, was the closing of this act. It was nothing id ever seen. Something sacred to say the least. Tradition at its finest. Something that I hope younger generations will catch on to. Something that I hope I can be honored to witness again.
The last day of my trip was another meaningful eventful excursion. We started off on a ride to the Hamptons for breakfast. Gary’s tribute ride was this day. Something I would’ve missed if my flight wasn’t changed. The awaited phone call that never came was from my insurance agency. A fire mishap with wontons, a pan with a splash of oil in it and a microwave, happened a week before I left for Florida and was partially the determining factor on if I could stay or not. The phone call was supposed to bless me with what I like to call microwave money. The microwave money didn’t come during my stay and I somehow managed to last the extended trip with the little funds I had. Im glad I didn’t let the light pockets sway my fate. We rode with a small group to Sanford to meet Shantell at her restaurant. We came specifically for her and her cornbread. Man. I can see why Gary loved it. By far this cornbread will be the best damn cornbread that will ever grace your tastebuds. Shantell sat with us and told her story of her ride through the lower 48, 3 weeks before her kids started school. With 128 dollars in her pocket, her mini me on the back of her bike and miracles to help her along the way, she was able to complete this journey in 27 days. She is one of the most inspiring females I have met. We rode home with her joining us. We stopped at Cabbage Patch one last time before we called it a night.
As I awoke the next morning, I realized I have not experienced being in a place for an extended period of time, that at any given moment, I didn’t long to leave.
As I boarded my flight back home, I carried with me not just the souvenirs of a week well spent, but a newfound appreciation for the bonds that unite us, the stories that define us, and the sense of belonging that transcends mere geography. My Bike Week in Daytona Beach was nothing short of extraordinary. From the pits at Sons of Speed to the heartfelt tributes and unforgettable moments shared, I reflect on the 11 days well spent, brought on by the power of connection. Now, to get that Matchless up and running. Beno, start checking your emails cus I’m coming for you.
Now, I know I am extremely behind on this blog. A little over a month later and another show under my belt, showing up fashionably late with these things is probably going to be my m.o. until a rhythm gets down. Finishing up this blog I am in the midst of gathering photos and stories for the most recent show I've attended. The One Moto Show in Portland Oregon wasn't next on the agenda but a very spontaneous split second decision that landed me yet again, in some really awesome memory making moments. Another magical experience. Stay tuned my friends because shits just getting started.
Give us a follow on Instagram @localbrandclothingco.com. Also drop a comment below. If you have and constructive or non constructive criticism go for it. All comments are welcome. Now .... to decide how long I will be in Tennessee. With TNMR right around the corner and Tenn Jam right after it, I have some decisions to make. No flights booked yet as I am still waiting on microwave money to get me there. The next adventure will unfold regardless.
Nicole Templeton
Locals mentioned:
Moonshiner Crazy Chuck Ig@moonshinercrazychuckBig Bob Ig@ilovebadventures
Retro, Mouse, Scrappy and Buzz of the Daytona Chrome Divas
Gnarly Karly Ig@gnarlywolf
Barbie the Welder Ig@barbiethewelder
Amy Jaques
Mary Spearing
Jason Theurer Ig@jasontheurer
Eddie Philips Ig@eddierapidphoto
Michael Lichter Ig@michaellichterphotography
Mad Stork Ig@mad_stork
Chuck Garric Ig@officialchuckgarric
Bryan Helm Ig@bryanhelm
Berry Wardlaw
Steve Coe
Gary Baas Ig@gearheadgary50
Heather and John Toto Ig@heathertoto79 YouTube: The John and Heather show
Shantell Williams Ig@shantelljustuntill Ig@shutupandrideshow
Jeff McKinney Ig@jeffmckinneyartstudio
Laura and Ken
Whey Jennings Ig@wheyjennings
Shovelhead Coalition Ig@shovelheadcoalition
Xavier Muriel @providencecycleworks
Chris Callen @cyclesourcemagazine
Beno Rodie
In Loving memory of Daren Bennett and Gary Baas
Local places:
New Smyrna speedwayBahama breeze
Boot Hill saloon
Dog house
The Hamilton’s restaurant
Hidden treasure
Iron horse
Cackleberry camp ground
The cabbage patch
Destination Daytona
Sinners and saints
Giuseppe’s pizza
Last resort
The other place
Tropical tattoo
Boondocks
Caribbean jacks
Shantell’s Until Then
Local events:
Billy Lanes Sons Of SpeedWillie’s Choppertime
Old Time Chopper Show
High seas rally
Tacos and Burnouts
2 comments
Very cool Nicole.
It was a great week! I had a blast with you. Hope you can come back for Biketoberfest before the High Seas Rally Cruise.