Cantina

Life and Times of Bill May, 1971

The Girl, the Stroked Knucklehead and the Band as narrated by Bill May Shifting back in time, in 1970 I sold the bike I rode from Nevada to Oklahoma on in ‘69. I cruised back to Reno for a few months and fell in love with a girl there. I was riding with a small club in Oklahoma. There wasn’t much going on and I guess I was just bored. I took off to Reno in a ‘62 Chevy. When I arrived there, she touched me but had a young child and a husband in LA. She ultimately decided she should go back and make up with him. Click here for the ride down memory lane, splitting hairs about what was only on Bikernet.com * * * Do you yearn to know the real deal about the golden era gone by in chopper culture and outlaw lifestyle? We got you covered and with plenty more to dig through in the Bandit’s Cantina. It is an exclusive area, guarded by hounds of Harley-Davidson bikers and their minions. Visit https://www.bikernet.com/pages/custom/subscription.aspx Try the best membership deal online since 1996

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Deadwood’s Biker Jailer

Based on actual events in 1982 by Keith “Bandit” Ball with illustrations by Wayfarer Deadwood, a town of outlaws, grit, gold, mile-deep mines, gambling and whores wrestled annually with South Dakota weather. It’s a bustling town of 1,200 dealing with an onslaught of three million drunken, gambling visitors a year. About 1982 a scruffy biker named Rusty, with a full beard mowed lawns and his wife worked at Family Dollar a couple of blocks away on the cobblestone street, while the Homestake mine endured another strike. Wasn’t much going on when the Sheriff asked Rusty if he would ride along on a prisoner transfer to Sioux Falls for 100 bucks. He smiled and took the job. Wasn’t much to it and he continued to fulfill the city position as a transport guard until busses came along and the Sheriff said, “I don’t want to lose you.” Click here to read this incredible adventure as only retold by Bandit on Bikernet.com * * * * Join the gang by becoming a member–check out your options by clicking here.  

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The Wicked Bikernet Weekly News for May 2, 2024

It’s tough to hold the line with two property deals floating. On the other hand, everything rides on the decisions I make. I’m an optimist, but I search out the reality of the situation. I’m 76, do I really want to dive into a 100 year old building that needs to be refurbished, or would I rather work hard on the museum efforts, continue to write stories, build motorcycles, write books and make another stab at Bonneville? WTF? Hang on. Let’s hit the news. Click here to read the Weekly Thursday News only on Bikernet.com * * * * Support Bikernet by joining the Cantina and get free swag. Deal of a lifetime, click here to know more.

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100WFC: Fuzzy by Wayfarer

Fuzzyby Wayfarerwith illustration by Wayfarer I swayed left and right, twisting the throttle, pushing and pulling at the handlebars. I was tense, sweating throughout on an early morning in June. If only I could ride another 200 miles, I know I would be at peace. This time yesterday, I had kickstarted my journey to the heartland. There were no goodbyes at work, maybe there will be none at my destination, my home. As I evaded the bustling traffic on the interstate, the many commuters dissolved, my mind picturing her smile, her yellow gown, her rare recipes and most of all, her patience with me. The oil rig fellas had pitched in to do my share of work as I took off to a final resting place. Mom was fading fast. Will she remember me in her condition? I gotta stay awake to fulfill her dreams and a promise to be by her side. (publication dated 30-Mar-2024) * * * You can participate and win as well–just subscribe to the weekly newsletter by clicking here. Then send us your fiction in 100 words or less through Wayfarer@Bikernet.com

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100 WFC: Quig by J J Spain

Quig by J J Spain (Jeffrey)with illustration by Wayfarer I took the first Piedmont exit off I90, rolling the Chieftain on to the parking lot of Matt’s Place, the front tire of the Indian facing the interstate. The t-shirts stapled to the wall said Matt wasn’t there, he was fishing. Silently I tipped my champagne of beers to the Blackhills and whispered to my friend that I missed him. It’s been four years now since he left, yet I still hear his voice, his laugh and wish I could cast a fly like he could. Time goes by, the days go fast, the best leave us first. Enjoy Miller time. (publication dated 30-March-2024) * * * You can participate and win as well–just subscribe to the weekly newsletter by clicking here. Then send us your fiction in 100 words or less through Wayfarer@Bikernet.com

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