Louisiana State Rally 2026 – Another One in the Books!

Well, this makes three Louisiana State Rallies in a row for me, all held at the Paragon Casino in Marksville, Louisiana. The first year I rode over by myself. Last year we had a small group. This year it was just the three of us—Dutch, EZGoin, and me.

The original plan was to leave around 0900 or 1000, roll in around 1500, check into the hotel, grab a few drinks, find our Brothers and Sisters at the Meet & Greet, and just decompress.

But... holy crap has it been hot this summer.

We bumped our KSU up by about three hours, and I'm really glad we did. I rolled out around 0615, and the temperatures were in the low 80s, staying there for most of the ride. The last couple of hours climbed into the low 90s, and it was pushing 95° when we pulled into the casino around 1330. I used to love riding in the heat... those days are definitely behind me.

Of course, our rooms weren't quite ready, so we had about an hour to kill.

No problem...

It's a casino. The bars were already open. 😄

Around 1500 we finally got checked in, unpacked, cleaned up, and headed downstairs for the Meet & Greet.

I'll be honest... it was a little disappointing. No beverages, which seemed odd for a Meet & Greet. The upside? We caught up with Cray-on and Skrape, as well as some other Lousiana Brothers and Sisters so it wasn't a total loss.

By then we were starving. Dutch and I took advantage of a two-for-one special at the Cajun buffet—about $35 for both of us. Not bad at all. EZGoin wandered off to the casino, and we eventually caught back up with him later that evening over a few drinks while swapping stories and solving all the world's problems.

Morning came way too early.

We met up for breakfast, got some much-needed coffee flowing, and headed over to the State Meeting. Things kicked off around 1100 with the Brotherhood and Sisterhood portions of the meeting. A few hours later we'd welcomed a new Brother into the association, heard updates from chapters across Louisiana, and wrapped things up.

Some of our local Brothers invited us out to explore a few watering holes, but Dutch and I had another idea.

Pool time.

The Paragon has a nice outdoor pool, Dutch had a cooler full of cold beer, and before long we were hanging out with Brothers and Sisters from around the state, soaking up some sunshine and enjoying a relaxing afternoon.

After getting cleaned up, we headed out looking for dinner. Every restaurant seemed to have a line except the Chinese place... which worked just fine for me.

While we were at the pool, we also found out there was a Prince tribute band performing that evening—and military veterans got in free.

Well... we're veterans.

So naturally, we were in.

Turns out it was a fantastic show and a great way to wrap up the evening. By the time it ended, though, we were absolutely beat.

Since we'd decided to head home early Sunday morning, the alarms went off at 0530. It turned out to be another great decision. We rode out in temperatures in the 70s, and they didn't touch 90 until the last hour of the ride home.

As always, we skipped the interstate and stuck to the two-lane highways.

Worth it.

Every.

Single.

Time.

Around 1300 I rolled into the driveway with the stereo cranked, a huge smile on my face, climbed off the bike, gave Mama a kiss, got cleaned up...

...and then headed straight to the pool.

Nothing but sunshine.

Next year's rally is back at the Paragon Casino again, and after doubling my money at the blackjack table this year, I'd call the whole weekend a success.

Good roads. Good friends. Good Brotherhood.

I'll definitely be back.

AR State Rally 2026

Another State Rally in the Books!

Another Arkansas State Rally is in the books! This year's rally was held in beautiful Eureka Springs and marks the third one I've attended over the last four years.

Besides seeing great people, catching up with close friends, and making new ones, what really drew me there this year was...

THE RIDE.

I absolutely love the ride to Fort Smith on two-lane roads through Oklahoma's National Forests and State Parks. Then, once you pop out on the north side of Fort Smith, you're greeted by some of the most beautiful scenery and riding roads you'll find anywhere on the way to Eureka Springs.

This trip, we took the Pig Trail heading north. As always, it did not disappoint.

I rode up with my Brother, Dutch, and it was his first time riding that route. We rolled out of Campbell, Texas around 8:30 that morning and made great time to Fort Smith.

I have to admit something, though...

I've got to get my act together a little better for future rides.

Once the temperatures climbed into the 90s, I started dragging. I ended up making two extra stops just to cool down, hydrate, and make sure I was still sharp. This is still fairly new territory for me over the last couple of years, and I haven't quite figured it out yet. On the bright side, I'm losing weight and working on getting healthier, but damn... I'm still getting used to what my body is telling me these days.

We rolled into the Inn of the Ozarks (Best Western) around 3:00 p.m. Dutch and I shared a room to keep costs down. Originally, Lucy was planning to come, so I had booked a king room. Once her plans changed, switching to two queens worked out perfectly.

Dutch reminded me to pack a swimsuit, and I'm glad he did.

As soon as we checked in, we made a quick beer run, changed into swim trunks, and headed straight for the pool. Dutch always brings some outstanding cigars, so we spent the next few hours floating in the cool water, enjoying warm sunshine, cold beer, great stogies, and simply unwinding.

The icing on the cake was when Anita ("Crayon") found us. The conversations, smiles, and laughter made for a perfect afternoon.

After a few hours, we wandered over to the convention center for the Meet & Greet. Ten bucks for a bottomless beer cup all weekend? That's hard to beat.

After a few hours of visiting with everyone, it was back to the room... and lights out.

I was beat.

First things first; Breakfast. We got to sit next to Skrape and had a great conversation as always. He's a weatlh of information. He's running for NSAA in '27 and I asked a few questions and truly enjoyed the conversation. When he gets' elected, and I'm sure he will, will be an outstanding addition to the NBOD.

Saturday morning started with something a little different—an Auxiliary Poker Run.

I never did calculate the mileage, but it felt like close to a hundred miles of fantastic two-lane riding. The coolest part was the technology they used. Instead of paper scorecards, everyone checked in using an app. Once you arrived within a certain distance of each stop, it verified your location, assigned your playing card, and then directed you to the next stop.

Very cool.

I really think that's the future of Poker Runs.

One of our favorite stops was Switchback Bar. Finally... cold beer! Dutch broke out his harmonica and started playing along with the musician in the corner. It was one of those moments you couldn't script.

From there...

Back to the hotel.

Round Two at the pool.

We were relaxing in the water, sipping beers, and enjoying cigars when we suddenly noticed everyone heading toward the meeting.

WHOOPS!

We almost missed the start! LOL. Would have had to track down the Swipers!?

A quick change of clothes later, we made it in time, got our swipes, found seats, and settled in.

The meeting lasted about two hours. We welcomed new Brothers and Sisters, heard some great
information, and took care of business.

Afterward, it was burgers for dinner before heading back for the evening festivities.

I really enjoyed spending time talking with Herc and the female Full Member sitting next to me (Frank?), but Dutch and I eventually called it a night. We both wanted to be fresh for the ride home the next morning.

Before sunrise, we were already awake and packing.

By 6:30 a.m., we were rolling south.

We rode through patches of fog with temperatures in the low 70s. Other than a little mist, we stayed dry as we worked our way down Interstate 49 toward Fort Smith at a comfortable 85 mph.

We stopped for fuel—okay... maybe I stretched the tanks a little farther than I should have a couple of times—but I know that route pretty well and wasn't worried. We grabbed breakfast, topped off the coffee, and hit the road again.

By the time we got close to Texas, temperatures were once again creeping toward 90 degrees, but thankfully the cloud cover helped keep things manageable. It was warm... just not Friday warm.

About fifteen miles from home, the skies finally opened up with a quick summer shower.

You know what?

It actually felt pretty good.

I kept riding, rolled into the driveway, grabbed a bite to eat, and then headed straight for my own pool to decompress before giving Lucy the condensed version of my last 48 hours.

Another great State Rally.

Another great ride.

And now...

I'm already scheming which two-lane roads I'll take to the next one.

CVMA: More Than Just Staying Current

Part B: More Than Just Staying Current

My last post was about annual dues and what happens when members fall off the books.

This is really Part B of that conversation.

Over the years, I've told more than a few members the same thing: if life gets busy, at least pay your dues and make it to one qualifying event each year. That's all the bylaws require to remain an active member. You don't even have to ride in—just own a legal motorcycle and stay connected.

There's absolutely nothing wrong with that.

In fact, I know we have a handful of members who do exactly that. They aren't hurting anyone, and they're operating completely within the rules.

My perspective has simply changed.

What I really want to know is who those people are.

Not so I can criticize them. Not so I can pressure them into doing more. Just so I know they're okay.

If I know you've intentionally stepped back because life has taken you in a different direction, I won't be calling for welfare checks because you missed another meeting. I won't be texting to ask where you've been. I won't keep trying to convince you to come to every ride.

I'll respect that.

Where I struggle is understanding why someone wants to remain a member if they no longer have any real interest in participating.

Is it the friendships?

The mission?

The opportunity to help veterans?

Or is it simply about wearing the soft colors and being recognized as a member?

Maybe that's enough for some people. Personally, I don't really understand it.

For me, the patch has never been about recognition. It's about belonging to an organization whose mission I believe in and whose members I've come to consider family.

Now, before anyone thinks I'm preaching...

I'm not as "all in" as I once was.

I still ride more than most. I probably own enough CVMA gear to outfit a small platoon. But life has changed.

My wife and I love to travel to the Carribean and elsewhere via a plane, not on 2 wheels.

I still work full-time.

We're building our dream home.

Family always comes first.

Like everyone else, I've got a lot on my plate.

The CVMA isn't my entire life anymore—and honestly, it shouldn't be.

But it is still an important part of my life.

I'm proud to wear this patch.

I'm proud of what this Association stands for.

I'm proud of the people I've met, the veterans we've helped, the miles we've ridden together, and the friendships that have been built over the years.

I don't see that ever changing.

Everyone has to find the balance that works for them. There is no requirement that says you have to attend every meeting, every ride, or every event.

But I do think every member should occasionally ask themselves one simple question:

"Am I still here because I believe in the mission... or am I just maintaining a membership?"

The answer is different for everyone.

For me, as long as I'm able, I'll continue wearing the patch with pride—not because I have to, but because I still want to.

30 JUNE : That time of year again ..

Every year around this time, our chapter goes through the same process—National dues come due, memberships are reviewed, and unfortunately a few members fall off the roster.

Without fail, there are usually one or two people who are surprised, insist they didn't know, or have reasons why it wasn't their fault.

Over the years, my perspective has changed.

Life happens. I completely understand that. Jobs change. Families grow. Health issues come up. Financial priorities shift. Motorcycles get sold. Interests evolve. None of that bothers me.

In fact, over the past few weeks I've had several conversations with members who were honest about where they are in life. One is selling his bike and moving on to a different chapter in life. I respect that. Another shared that after having children, he simply isn't comfortable riding anymore because his priorities have changed. I completely understand that too.

I even had a Life Member tell me he was considering stepping away because he just wasn't feeling it anymore.

My advice was simple: don't make a permanent decision because you're in a temporary season.

If you still own your motorcycle, pay the $10 annual chapter dues, stop by a meeting once in a while, get your annual swipe, say hello to your brothers and sisters, and keep the door open. You don't even have to ride in. Maybe next year—or the year after—you'll rediscover what brought you here in the first place.

I've seen that happen before.

What is much harder to understand is someone who disappears for an entire year, never participates, rarely (if ever) rides with the chapter, never volunteers, never supports the mission, and then suddenly becomes passionate about keeping their back patch only after they've lost it.

Membership in the CVMA® is about much more than wearing a patch. It's about commitment to our mission, supporting veterans, building friendships, and being part of something larger than ourselves. Nobody expects everyone to attend every event, but participation matters. Effort matters. Staying connected matters.

When someone chooses not to invest in the organization for an extended period, it's difficult to believe that urgency only after membership has lapsed reflects a renewed commitment rather than a desire to simply keep the patch.

As leaders, we have an obligation to be fair—not only to those asking for another chance, but also to the members who consistently show up, volunteer, ride, support our veterans, and pay their dues year after year without being reminded.

The patch is something to be earned every day, not something to be remembered once a year when dues are due.

To everyone who continues to support the mission—thank you.

And to those who may have lost a little of their enthusiasm, don't disappear. Stay connected. Come to a meeting. Grab a cup of coffee. Join a ride when you're ready. We'd much rather help you find your way back than watch you quietly walk away.

Vets Helping Vets.

Steel Horse Rally 2026

Steel Horse Rally: Bourbon, Brotherhood, and Bad Decisions (the Good Kind)

I think it was around 2018 when I realized I’d been living wrong.

Scrolling through my phone, I see my boys Donnie and Stump up in Fort Smith for something called the Steel Horse Rally. My first reaction?

What the hell is this… and why the hell am I not there?

Never even heard of it. Turns out it started in 2015—founded by Dennis Snow as a charity rally supporting veterans, military, first responders… all damn good causes. Respect.

But at that moment? All I knew was this—based on the pictures they sent me, I had missed an absolute crazy good time of a weekend.

That problem got corrected in 2019.

Seven Years Later… Still No Regrets (Mostly)

Fast forward, and here we are. I haven’t made every single year—life, work, occasional poor planning—but I’ve made enough to know one thing:

You don’t skip Steel Horse.

We stay right downtown. Not “close to the action”—in it. Like, step-out-the-door-and-you’re-already-in-trouble kind of location. I’m actually setting a damn timer this week to book next year’s rooms before some other fool beats me to it.

This year, Donnie and Stump couldn’t make it—which sucked—but I rolled in with Lucy and some solid Texas CVMA crew: Hoist and KittyKat. Within about five minutes of arriving, we’re running into brothers from 44-2 in Mississippi and a whole mess of Arkansas folks.

At that point, it stops being a trip and starts being a reunion.

The Ride In: Weather Lies and Good Timing

Originally planned to roll in Thursday… because that’s what responsible adults say they’re going to do.

Reality? Friday.

Hoist and I were fully geared up mentally for a wet ride—rain gear, bad attitudes, the whole deal. But wouldn’t you know it, the mist clears right when we fire up. Still a little cold—mid-50s—but it warmed up just enough to remind you why you ride.

The ladies rolled in later in the cage—smart decision, as always—and by sundown we were checked in and getting after it.

Before they even got there, I ran into my brother Gruntpa from 44-2 with a small army behind him. Had no clue he was coming. That’s the kind of surprise that kicks a weekend off right.

Controlled Chaos (Heavy on the Chaos)

Once the full crew linked up, we dropped into 906… and let me tell you—CVMA had taken over that place like we were paying rent.

You ever walk into a bar and instantly realize you’re not making it out early? Yeah… that.

Highlight of the night—running into Cray-On. That woman racks up more miles and events than most people rack up excuses. If there’s something happening anywhere in the country, odds are she’s already there with a drink in hand and a story to tell.

Met a ton of others along the way—names? Yeah… those didn’t all survive the bourbon. But every one of them? Good people.

Saturday rolled right into more of the same, including linking back up at a local VFW event. More laughs, more stories, more “we should probably slow down” moments that nobody actually listens to.

The Blur

At some point, time stops making sense.

Live music blending into engine noise.
Cigars that last longer than your memory of lighting them.
Bourbon that somehow keeps refilling itself.
Hugs from people you haven’t seen in a year that feel like you saw them yesterday.

It’s loud. It’s chaotic. It’s a little reckless.

And it’s exactly where you’re supposed to be.

Sunday: The Reckoning

Then Sunday shows up like it always does—uninvited and way too early.

We mount up. No speeches needed.

Hoist and I fire up the bikes. The ladies jump in the cage as our chase vehicle—because somebody in this group has to be responsible, and it sure as hell isn’t us.

Then it’s 250 miles of two-lane heaven.

Curves, hills, twisties… leaning just enough to remind yourself you’re alive. Maybe a little over the speed limit—but nothing worth writing a confession about.

Before long, we’re back in Texas.

Unloading bikes.
Exchanging hugs.
That quiet moment where everyone knows the weekend’s over—but nobody’s really ready to say it out loud.