The Milwaukee Mama Tried Show Trip – Fast paced weekend of burnouts, over-estimated snowstorms, and unintentional tamale extravaganzas. Come with me through the chaos, laughter, and unexpected moments that unfolded from February 22nd to the 26th of 2024 in the heart of Wisconsin’s bike scene.
Our adventure kicked off at Fuel Cafe, where bar-top burn-out shenanigans were on the menu – the kind that leaves your memories as well as your lungs, clouded in smoke. The bar became the stage that only Milwaukee could deliver. One thing I learned is to never underestimate the power of a burnout in a bar. I was able to catch live footage as I stepped up on to a platform that showcased a Harley. The box elevated me above the crowd. Myself just barely being over 5 foot, I posted up. With just enough space for an akward blance act somehow managing to not touch the bike, I was able to see over the tops of hundreds of heads with a straight shot view to the center of the bar. In minutes, two wheels were in place where shots of whisky were previously poured. Hearing about prior years, most of us that were Milwaukee virgins still knew what was about to go down. All I kept thinking was “ man, those people right behind him are about to get dusted.” They sure the fuck did and so did everyone else. People cleared out quickly as the smell of burning tires filled the air. The cloud engulfed everything and that smell would stay stuck in my hair for days to come. It was definitely something I didn’t want to miss. Although the statement was delivered after the first 30 seconds and recieved with a smoke smack to the face, I think that most could agree that a burn out on a bar without a blown tire wouldn’t be the same. As the saying goes, “Go big or go home”. A short while later we were all back inside ordering drinks, breathing semi-fresh air and catching up with old friends. Lowbrow delivered with the kegs and Fuel Cafe did not dissapoint.
Bar top photo credit IG @someone.to.you__
Our next stop, home of smallest flat track in the world, brought on an accidental tamale feast. Promises came in hot with pork and chicken to choose from, paired with the spiciest, most flavorful green sauce I’ve had in a while. My colleague Jenn asked for two. She shortly realized that it was in fact two half dozen tamales that were mistakenly ordered. The gentlemen handed her one large plastic grocery bag with 12 tin foil wrapped, corn husk covered meat bars. We ate tamales for days and I wasn’t mad at it.
The following day, Jameson served as our liquid armor, ensuring we survived Flat Out Friday at Fiserv Forum. My good friend Larry Curik from Lone Star Choppers brought the booze on a 6 hour drive straight from Ohio. We happened to polish off a whole bottle before leaving the room. Maybe not the smartest of choices, but it happened. I like to say that most good stories start with a shot and even better stories end with an empty bottle.
Guards at the stadium put my un-layering skills to the test, turning a routine security check into a winter version of strip poker. It took about 3 layers coming off, including unbuckled overalls, shoes removed and numerous passes with the wand to get in. I’d get through TSA without a pass faster than I got into that stadium. I was warned about Milwaukee weather, but honestly, it wasn’t that bad. Layering this much was completely unnecessary. This California girl took it like a champ and will definitely lighten the packing load when returning in the future. I can’t help but wonder if these guards wanted to fuck with me, not only for knowing I was intoxicated but for being absolutely ridiculous for having heated socks. Don’t judge me.
Row 10 at Fiserv Forum revealed an unparalleled view. If we hadn’t ran into Mike for the VIP suite access, we would have been very content down below, but hey, when u get offered to come up to the suite, you know what you do? You take your ass up to the damn suite. Where my debit card went AWOL, and cash by way of Jenn became the hero, whiskey and beer flowed with more introductions, which turned into more new friends. This particular flat track race was like nothing I’ve seen. Racers in costumes, some in jerseys and some in suits. Teams going against each other in silly competitions and people getting engaged is just the tip. Was all about fun. T Rex’s on the track and little rippers riding around, it was entertaining to say the least. It even had me thinking at one point how this old lady could get down there one day and partake in some of that action. I’d show you videos but at this moment it escapes me how to insert one on this post. I’ll figure eventually. Until then, visit the IG page for all your viewing pleasures.
On our departure We got hit by massive wind and snow and at this moment, I lost hat number one. My “Houston, I am the problem” hat was now property of Wisconsin. Stolen from the wind and given to good ol’ Milwaukee. Good thing I had that beanie on underneath. We headed to our 11 dollar uber ride and found our way back to the Iron Horse Hotel, where the after party continued. Pool tables, American Metal Whiskey, and blurred vision carried into the morning.
I managed to get in a few hours of shut eye and kick start my ass at about noon. A late start is better than no start. Slammed a shot of whiskey and we finally made to the show. The ballroom event was a visual eye fuck. Four stories of stimulation that The Rave (Eagles Club Ballroom) had to offer, was nothing short of spectacular. A $150 ticket turned out to be the key to the American Metal VIP lounge– which ended up being worth every penny. Most didn’t see the 8 drink stamps inconspicuously printed at the bottom of that lanyard pass, currency in a world where beers allegedly cost a couple bucks shy of a Jackson. The lounge presented a few menu items but one in particular was a bud and a shot for a single stamp. Fuken Trouble – 16 drinks on the horizon. If you think you’re a 7 foot tall Irish man, like I do, this is the way to go. More burred vision.
Hat number two found its way, I’m assuming, into the ballrooms possession as we mad a pit stop at the Led Sled Customs booth. My “MAMA TRIED” trucker hat, (not merch from the show but rather suiting) somehow was replaced with a Led Sled hat. I’m not sure if a trade happened or I bullied Pat into giving me merch, but nonetheless I’m happy to sport it.
As we wandered around admiring the bikes, we were lucky to be introduced to so many inspiring members of the community. Vendors of all sorts lined the floor from artistic tees from Hank and Co., crafted by Alyxandra for the little rebels, to parts vendors, merch, vintage clothing, jewelry and anything motorcycle related. The bikes lined the ballroom floor and amongst the sea of builders was Robert Mayer’s kandy apple red 63 panhead. I was able to gawk at this beauty now for the second time aside from Born Free 14 last year. A People’s Champ contender that is an absolute must see. Two of the High Seas Rally builds were unveiled. Pat Patterson and his 95 sportster along side Mike Rabideau with his 71 shovelhead, stood front and center, catching eyes. Drew Skocelas with his 73 Triumph Trident was a personal favorite of mine. In the crowd, we bumped into more friends from the High Seas Rally cruise, a vacation gem I highly recommend and worth exploring.
Back at the lounge for more drinks, we encountered the challenge of elusive food and low energy. Where was that tamale guy now? I won’t even try to church it up, at this point, I was probably not speaking coherent English anymore. I can switch gears in a matter of minutes. Starting off as an entertaining comedian morphing into a sloppier, auto pilot version of Frank Gallagher with a speech impediment this change occurs with no warning. More blurred vision. I found a new friend to tag along with as mine were tapped out from lack of food and all the whiskey. We piled 7 people deep in to Rusty’s van. A couple stops, more drinks, and less people we made it back to the Iron Horse Hotel. The late start only fueled the adventure into the late night, not leaving us to wonder what else Milwaukee had in store. It evolved into a mini bike race spectacle in the parking lot – a blur of engines and laughter eventually led to me finally running out of gas and closing my eyes. The night yet again, turned into day a little too quickly.
Opting for a two-day show strategy, the second became the exploration day. With fewer crowds and a little more sobriety, we delved into more picture-taking and merchandise hunting. The VIP lounge provided a respite, allowing conversations with familiar faces from the hazy night before.
The final day was marked down for a mandatory stop at the Harley Davidson Museum. An absolute must see journey through the brand's history. But First we had to indulge in a memorable breakfast at Miss Katie’s Diner—where the Benedicts are as famous as the people who frequented it. After coffee, food and Another 11 dollar Uber ride, we arrived at the museum and traveled back in time. Viewing Harley’s dated from the iconic serial number 1 up to present day, including some Mama Tried Show classics, mile maker woman riders, bios on racers, interactive engine menus and so much more. The motorcycle museum encapsulated the Harley Davidson legacy. A sweatshirt became a must-have memento before bidding Milwaukee adieu.
Mama Tried, you proved to be more than a show – a series of surprises, community, a blend of chaos, camaraderie, unexpected hilarity and the relentless pursuit of good times. Milwaukee's bike culture lived up to the hype and then some. Keep burn outs in bars, excessive amounts of tamales on demand , keep the wind stealing hats and stay rowdy my friends! Until next year Milwaukee!
To come…..
Booking on a whim is my style and this morning's flight scenario is no exception. Changing 3 flights, just to arrive 5 hours earlier was def worth the extra effort. The spontaneity fueled by ADHD is real and already has me contemplating yet another flight change to extend the adventure.
Sons of speed takes up Saturday. Where you’ll find me in the pits hanging out and cheering on Moonshine Chuck with his umbrella girls, Mouse and Retro by my side Accompanied by Barbie the Welder, I can anticipate how many laughs are going to be had. Breakfast plans on the horizon as a tribute to Gary, our dear friend now riding in the sky, is not only going to be a promising celebration surrounded by loved ones but something I’m honored to be a part of and wouldn’t miss for the world.
As I sit here, smooshed in a middle seat, I find myself on this plane, writing this blog. Wondering how these crazy little nudges from life have brought me to this place, I could never have guessed that i would be documenting my travels for all or none to see. Being weirdly vulnerable as fuck, with no writing experience, mild bike knowledge and a slim bank account, I’m twisting the throttle. What is my plan? I have not a fucking clue. But right now. At this moment, hovering however many miles up in the sky, I am so thankful.
Until next time.
Local places:
Mama Tried Show IG @mamatriedshow
Iron Horse Hotel IG @theironhorsehote
Promises IG @promisesmilwaukee
Miss Katie’s Diner IG @Miss.katiesdiner
Flat Out Fridays at Fiserv Forum @flatoutfriday
Fuel Cafe IG @fuelcafemilwaukee
American Metal Whiskey IG @americanmetalwhiskey
Locals metioned:
Robert Mayer IG @bobby63pan
Hank and Co. By Alyxandra IG @hank.andco
Pat Patterson IG @ledsledcustoms
Mike Rabideau IG @majikmikedesigns
Drew Skocelas IG unknown
Larry Curik IG @lonestarchopppers
Jenn Ragusa IG @jenn_my_friend
Rusty Carvalho IG @rusty_978
Barbie the Welder IG Barbiethewelder
John and heather IG johnandheathershow
Gary Baas IG @gearheadgar
Barbie the Welder IG @Barbiethewelder
Moonshine Chuck IG @moohshinercazychuck
Photo credit:
Nicole Templeton
2 comments
The burnout on the bar 🤘😂 fuck yes!
Really descriptive, totally felt like I was there! Sounds like a fun time