100 WFC: The Widow’s Son by Wayfarer

The Widow’s Son by Wayfarer with illustration by Wayfarer Tobey pawned off whatever was left of his inheritance—clothes, shoes, cheap jewelry and twenty years of Reader’s Digest. He sold suitcases for trips never ventured. These were of no benefit while his Mom was alive. Life insurance paid a pittance of her funeral bill. All the cash he mustered amounted to the sum of $ 21,699.25. The sum total cops wanted for a rotting, rusting Panhead, once Tobey’s father’s ride. Mom sold it to make ends meet when Dad died in a work accident. A means to beginning Tobey’s new life of freedom from familial obligations. He sought the rehaul, the ride and the open road. His Harley represented a magnificent metamorphosis. (publication dated 07-June-2024) * * * Read the rest and the previous year’s entries and winners at

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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 * * * * Join the gang by becoming a member–check out your options by clicking here.  

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The Confused Bikernet Weekly News for April 18, 2024

It’s trying to snow this morning but can’t decide which way to go. The dusty flecks of snow are dancing around in the breezy sky and can’t decide whether to land or just enjoy the ride, in the wind. Let’s hit the news and see what happens next. You just can’t ever give up or give in. Keep the faith and keep riding free! –Bandit Click here to read the Weekly News only on If you like articles, tech, news, commentary, road-tests, reviews and more–then consider supporting this motorcycle-haven that is online since 1996 by becoming a member of Bandit’s Cantina. Click here to know more. Best deal online and free swag with it.

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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

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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

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100WFC: Stray Paths by Rhys

Stray Paths by Rhyswith illustration by Wayfarer Eased the old Shovel to a stop. Pulled into the bar parking lot for a quick beer. A little kid approached, not much more than 5, holding a puppy. He held out the dog to me, and I took it to give it a couple of pats. I turned and the kid vanished. Not wanting to let the little guy go on a busy city street I tucked him in my vest and headed home. On the way his little head poke out into the breeze. At home I noticed an injury to the hind quarter. The vet unable to fix, I had to let him go. At least he got to feel the wind in his face. (publication dated 25-March-2024)

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100WFC: She’s Gone by Jeffrey

THE CONTEST GOT JUMPSTARTED — NOW LET’S ALL KICK IT INTO GEAR She’s Gone by Jeffrey aka JJ Spainwith illustration by Wayfarer I left Hill City on highway 385 north to Deadwood, I had to see it for myself. The temperature was in the low 30s, a little cold for a ride but it wasn’t respectful to go in a car. Dark smoke belched from the black mass of rubble, as a small breeze drifted the smokey haze into the pines. A police officer directed traffic while firetrucks and volunteer firemen hosed the area. Thirty straight rally years did I enjoyed many a beer, burgers and conversations at this place. Now she’s gone. I hope the Sugar Shack can make it back. (publication dated 15-March-2024)

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