Dixie Biker Illustrated at Thunder Beach 2002

Ormond Beach to Panama City Beach, via Ocala, in May, is 435 miles of searin' sun, blistering asphalt, sandblastin' trucks, splatterin' love bugs, coconut smellin' sunscreen, salt tastin' Gulf breezes, stinkin' paper mills, roadway heat mirages, and open roads. In a word: Joy. Or another word: Freedom.

I was in great spirits. The Leesburg Bike Fest the weekend before was great and kinda kicked off the Spring Rally season, but we had to work the event. We set up our lil ol' tent, met many of y'all, helped Hark out with the Bike Games, etc. This trip to Thunder Beach 2002 was for pleasure (with just a little bit of work thrown in). We didn't hafta man a booth or sell T-shirts or nuthin'. Do a little MCin', takes lotsa pictures, enjoy y'all's company. Cool. Plus, I got to ride. When workin' an event, we normally don't get to ride 'less we trailer over. We gotta get our tent, magazines, merchandise, awards, etc. to wherever we're workin'. This means we gotta take the truck. To ride once there, we gotta trailer over. This time we hadda haul lotsa shit, but Boots and Biggy drove the Rodeo while me 'n Bobby rode. Thanks! I think they enjoyed the drive - air conditioning and they got to catch up on thirteen months of their lives.

Bobby and Biggy are good friends that happen to live in Essen, Germany. They normally stay with us during March for Bike Week every year but this time we talked Bobby into waitin' til May cuz Biggy enjoys the beach and sun. Ya gotta admit, May is much more conducive to beach loungin' in Florida than March is. Plus, I told Bobby that we'd have a coupla bike rallies to go to in May (though they're definitely not on the scale of Bike Week -- yet) so he could still see all the new stuff and meet lotsa bikers. They had flown in the day after Leesburg, got settled and two days later we're on the road to a Bike Rally on the Redneck Riviera. Man, that's good! Ain't no place I'd rather be than with a buncha Southern bikers, anyhow.

Skinny and Kim, our Seminole County reps and bein' the great folks they are, lent Bobby and Biggy their Dyna for the entire month they were here. Holy shit - that's awesome. Thanks!

We'd heard some shit about last year's Thunder Beach Rally, mostly negative, but thought, "What the hell? Even if the Rally is a bust, we still got each other's company, a great location and miles and miles to ride." Plus, I had done a lot of talkin' with Joe, Rap and Dawn of Thunder Beach Productions, Inc. about their plans to improve Thunder Beach. They sounded sincere, we're optimists and believed in them and I'm here to tell ya - "They did a great job considerin' the lack of support they're gettin' from the professional business community in Panama City Beach." More on that later.

We left Ormond Beach around 8 am headin' West on State Road 40, hooked up with Chuck and Phyllis at the Raven's Nest, took the by-pass around Ocala, headed North on US 27/98 through Lexy's area (Williston, Bronson, Chiefland, Old Town, etc.) and, as Brooks & Dunn sang - let the horses run.

We stopped for lunch in Perry at a Sizzlin' Steakhouse (good chow - they've fixed 'em up since the last time we ate there) cuz it hadda a buncha bikes in the parkin' lot. Lo an' behold, it was a gorup we knew outta Apopka. Kewl. After tankin'

we hung a left where Highways 27 and 98 split up and headed West to hook up with Cliff (Tallahasse, Southwest Georgia rep) in Crawfordsville. Man, Hwy 98 is gorgeous through here - forty miles of straight shot through pine forest. I mean straight. If you're lookin' for scenery other than trees drippin' spanish moss, you ain't gonna see it. I think I saw one gas station in forty miles.

After droppin' off 'bout a thousand magazines (the May issue) with Cliff, we rode down through Panacea, Carrabelle, Apalachiacola and into Port St. Joe. This route was a first for me and I gotta tell ya: "You gotta make this ride if you haven't done it before.

After leavin' Panacea, Hwy 98 follows the Gulf around the northwestern part of the Big Bend. Except for brief stretches, it's about a hundred miles of ridin' where you can see the blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico. Better 'n ridin' in the Keys, too. Great ride - other than the smell of the paper mills in Port St. Joe and the ever tasty Love Bugs (we ride without windshields but it may be time to get one since I'm closin' in on the big five-oh!). We managed to get into Panama City Beach right in the middle of rush hour. It was five fifteen their time, six fifteen ours. Not bad - 435 miles, no interstate, in around ten hours.

After checkin' in to our motel and takin' showers to get rid of all the bugs and road grime, we headed out to check out the area. First stop was the Shoppes at Edgewater, the Rally Headquarters. Huge parking lot and super friendly merchants in the Plaza. After talkin' with Joe and Dawn of Thunder Beach Productions, Inc. and leavin' 'bout five hundred magazines, we decided to ride around. There were lotsa bikes in town and it was only Thursday.

We had received an e-mail from Jim and Fay who own a little ol' bar on the strip called the Big Kahuna. They'd invited us down to party with them so we figured we'd check 'em out. Man, they had a big ol' welcome sign out front, the place was jumpin' with Karaoke and people were

havin' a good ol' time. After introducin' ourselves, Jim managed to thoroughly embarrass us by makin' a big production of introducin' us to the crowd like we were some kinda celebrities or somethin'. Y'all know me an' Boots - we're jes like y'all. We told him that wasn't necessary, we just wanted to party with some bikers. And that's just what we did - every damn night we were in town we made it a point to stop in! We gave away a bunch of DBI hat, t-shirts, and stuff; played a couple of games and did a couple of

contests.

Jim and Fay donated some T-shirts and a couple of pair of 'Big Kahuna' thong panties as giveaways. As he handed 'em to me, I said, "Jim - BIG mistake. You ain't seen Boots at work. She had the microphone and said, "Are y'all ready for some fun? I need some people to line this side of the deck to block the view from the street." After about twenty people lined up, she held up the thongs and said, "Who wants these?"

After this bit of madness and rowdiness, we headed over to Rock It Lanes to see our bud Pat Savage and his band. Good as always, they were kickin' ass and had everyone pumped up and rockin' til the teenies invaded about 11 pm. Then the band had to take a break for some amature boxing and toughman stuff. The crowd was decidedly young and wasn't bikers, that's for sure. They pounded the shit outta each other for a long time, too long for me, anyhow. And the lady on the mic that was doin' the announcin' - "Girl, you gotta git off that microphone. You've got the most annoyin' screechy voice I've ever heard. Shut yer trap. "

Her, and all the teenies ran all the bikers off. We wanted to here Pat Savage kick ass and put us in the right mood for the rest of the night. Too bad for the owner - the bikers were drinkin' his beer and adult beverages. The kids didn't buy shit.

I couldn't take the girls voice anymore and the fightin' was absolutely borin'm so we said goodnight to Pat and the boys and headed back to our hotel the long way around. Stopped in at the Key West, a year round biker bar, said "Hey" to Al who was set up in his Last Resort Bar trailer, listened to the band for a bit and then rode off.

Left - Rick, Dave and Joe outta Apopka. Below -

Phil and other members of the Daytona 200 AMA MC. We ran into both groups at the Sand Piper Beacon Beach Resort where the White Sands Chapter, ABATE was conducting the Poker Run on Friday. Joe told me, "Without the help and support of the White Sands Chapter, Monk, this thing wouldn't've been successful. They're running the poker run for us and the Bike Show and Parade tomorrow. Please make sure you mention that we said 'Thanks'." Alright, Joe.