East Texas Biker: 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.