Welcome to the IWMC Blog:
Share your Road Stories, Stories of Brotherhood, or your Poetry....yes,
we have some hellish writers in this club.
This new page will allow you to share information with the world (remember to keep it clean). You must be a member of the website to post to the blog. All submissions will be approved by the webmaster before they appear on the website
You can also use this blog to post your upcoming rides/events if you choose. I will also put the information onto the rides/events page if I see it in the blog. (you can still email the information to me if you don't want to use the blog).
"Keep it fun!" (Thanks Buffalo Man-love this quote)
|Posted by DOGMAN on August 11, 2010 at 12:40 PM||comments (0)|
ONCE THE BADGE GOES ON, IT NEVER COMES OFF WHETHER THEY CAN SEE IT, OR NOT IT FUSES TO THE SOUL THROUGH ADVERSITY, FEAR AND ADRENALINE AND NO ONE WHO HAS EVER WORN IT WITH PRIDE, INTEGRITY AND GUTS, CAN NEVER SLEEP THROUGH THE " CALL OF THE WILD " THAT WAFTS THROUGH THE BEDROOM WINDOWS IN THE DEEP OF THE NIGHT.......... IWFFIW
|Posted by REV on August 6, 2010 at 10:54 PM||comments (0)|
IRON WARRIORS PRAYER
Sunday morning I pull my iron horse from its stall. Turn the key and a crack of thunder parts the sound of silence. In the back of my mind I wonder wich one of my neighbors are damming the one thing I dreamed of doing all-night. That thought quickly evaporates to I am a Iron Warrior and my brothers are waiting so I must ride to meet them.
I say a prayer for all Iron Warriors here on earth and those that ride the havens on their V-twins as large as the grandest mountains. This is a brother hood next to none. It is my religion, my demons and my honor to serve and be a part of an elite group of people that serve the public putting their life on the line each and every day.
We are Warriors. We are not just Warriors but Iron Warriors. We are Iron Warriors and we will stand and fight what the common fear. The highway is my path to the havens. I will ride its valleys and mountains to the promise land and will embrace the winds that wear my face.
As an Iron Worrier you need not fear me although I only ask for your respect and in return I will serve with Pride Integrity and Guts.
|Posted by MuskRat on July 30, 2010 at 7:11 PM||comments (0)|
" I may not be able to save your life but I will be there with you till the end" By Rooster 7 Bridges chapter.
That is why some never truely experience what it is to be an IW, they have head knowledge but not heart knowledge." By Kilo 7 Bridges chapter
Please add yours in comments....
|Posted by MuskRat on July 25, 2010 at 2:16 PM||comments (1)|
It's what we do.
We ride Motorcycles
fast and true
We love our lady's
thru and thru
We fight what people fear
because we fear them to
We chose to live
this crazy life
No other life
we would chose
We fight the fight
We fight to win
Of the end
Tears will be shed
for our Friend
Brothers are chosen
till the end
|Posted by iwmcnation on May 24, 2010 at 8:04 AM||comments (2)|
Hearing the sound of the highway and the smell of the rain on the asphalt,
Time is passing by so quick these days, some days I miss smoking, watching the smoke trail pass into the sky,
Hearing the tink,tink as the engine cools from the ride, Remebering friends past andsome of the crazy times we shared.
The friends that have passed on,always in the back of the mind, Years spent doing our Duty,
The memories some good, but when sleep comes sometimes so do the Night Terrors the not so good memories.
Some days I miss the drink it wasalways a way to forget the past, to try and drown the times that Iwould love to forget.
I call it making friends with the Grey Ghost but as with all Ghosst they sometimes come back to haunt you,
So here I am awake and remembering the Sins of the past,
It is easy to forgive your fellow man but to make peace with oneself is sometimes hard,
The actions we took even though it may have been our job, in a strange sense I somehow enjoyed the deed.
Some people ask why I like being alone, Its a safe place for me to be.
In the early 80's in a Bar in Naples a friend made a comment you Bikers are a strange breed you enjoy being alone together.
I laughed then, but I knew for me it was the truth, We the share the wind, no need for idle chatter,
The full moon on the back roads, and the darkness of a moonless night.
The smell of the ocean and the sight of the forest.
The smell of the heat from themotor we know every sound, Every tick and squeak of the bike.
And Yes the thunder of the Motor, we even know when it ain't right.
The older Iget the more I understand. Somedays the only peace I have is in the wind.
Sorry for the ramblings,,,, thought you may enjoy.... Loner : Better the freedom of being alone.
the illusion of Safety in the herd. Words lie, Actions speak......
|Posted by iwmcnation on May 23, 2010 at 10:51 AM||comments (0)|
This has been on our 'News' page, but thought it worthy of Blog space to show you what I'm talking about when we refer to Brotherhood, poetry, and hellish writers in the club:
A toast to you my Iron Warrior brothers and sisters!
This past year has came and gone!
We Have laughed and we have cried!
We have fought hard on that "Thin Blue Line!"
We run into the gunfight, we put out the fire!
We have lost Iron Warrior brothers and sisters, sometimes i wonder,
Does anyone really care?
I look out at you; I see your Iron Warrior vest you wear!
You wear it with pride, because you the Iron Warriors are always there!
Your hearts are large, but I know you are tuff!
I also am an Iron Warrior. "I love you so much!"
So to you the Fireman and the Policeman as well,
be careful out there, our work is pure HELL!
I salute you my brother, with this i say, to our fallen comrade Iron Warriors I toast you today!
Let us stand and fight once more, the fire the criminal, who will be the first thru the door?
So, yes we are Iron Warriors, our colors we wear with pride! So lets get on our Harleys and " BY GOD LETS RIDE!"
MIKE " BIG DADDY" SHIPMAN
STATE LINE CHAPTER, MISSISSIPPI
|Posted by iwmcnation on May 23, 2010 at 10:10 AM||comments (2)|
This 'Road Story' was sent to IWMC Nation via email, lengthy, but a great read that I'm sure you can all relate to in some fashion. Typical, good natured, IWMC behavior.
About seven or eight years ago, a few of my IWMC brothers decided that weneeded to make a road trip to the beach on our scooters. Work had beenintense for everybody and we needed a few days to unwind. There isnothing that can unwind you better than jumping on a fire breathing HarleyDavidson with the Gulf of Mexico as yourdestination. We were going to meet some of our brethren from the SweetHome Alabama Chapter in Dothanand just chill out for a few days. As our decision to ride was lastminute, we didn't make any lodging arrangements before we left. Everybodythrew a few things in their saddlebags, and off we went.
It was a beautiful spring day as we started down U.S. 331. Drop Daddy,Breeze, Heavy, and I were in high spirits as we flew down the countryroad. Heavy's wife, Ashley, and her friend Lisa followed behind us in acar. Breeze and I led the way for a while, until we made a couple ofwrong turns and were relegated to the back of the pack. Our road tripstake longer than the normal driving time, as we always make frequent beer stopsalong the way. We figure if you are going to the beach, you might as wellprepare yourself for alcohol consumption before you get there.
We arrived in Ft. Walton about noon, and reveled in the warmthand brilliance of the Floridasun as we thundered along the Gulf of Mexico,the azure water glittering and winking its welcome to us. We located ahotel with a vacancy and pulled in. As it was between spring break andthe summer vacation boom, the manager offered to give us the penthouse suitefor the price of a double room. We readily accepted and were amazed atthe opulence of the suite that was ours for the weekend. It was onthe top floor of the building, and just about encompassed the entire topfloor. There were four large bedrooms, a big kitchen, great room, andthree baths. It was very elegantlydecorated; not what you would expect for leather and blue jean clad bikers.
We took in the view of the Gulf from the balcony for a few minutes, thentalked Ashley and Lisa into making a run to the liquor store to acquire therequisite liquor and beer that would be our staple for the next few days. I got in touch with Little Willie, Diesel, and Tank who were still en route tothe beach and told them where to come. Before long, I heard the deep rumble of their hogs as they came downU.S. 98 and turned onto the island.
As they pulled into the hotel, I noticed that Little Willie indeed had awoman on the back of his bike, but she was not the supermodel that he had describedto me earlier. This woman was short anddumpy, with a very large head. I lookedon Diesel and Tank’s bikes to see if Willie’s beauty queen might be riding withone of them, but they were both riding solo. Willie got off his bike and hugged me. I quietly asked him, “Who is that bucket headed woman on yourbike?” He looked kind of shocked. “That’s my girlfriend that I told you about!” Oh. Heasked, “Do you think she has a bucket head?” I back peddled quickly, “No man, I was just kidding. She’s beautiful.” Little Willie looked at me in a pained sortof way. He had obviously picked up on mylack of enthusiasm for his beauty queen. I hugged Diesel and Tank, and introduced myself to Bucket Head. As we made our way to the penthouse suite, I noticedthat Little Willie kept looking at his girlfriend in a scrutinizing sort ofway.
As soon as we got to the room, all the guys popped open beers, and the womenopted to go sunbathe on the beach. Thewomen all changed into their swimsuits, and made their way out the frontdoor. There was a collective gasp fromall the men in the room for two reasons: One was that Lisa looked like a fitness model in her ultra small bikini. None of us had seen her in anything but veryconservative, severe business attire before that day. Every man to the last sucked his gut in asshe strutted past us with her large bosom and ripped abdomen. The second reason was for Bucket Head: She walked out in a small bikini, but theabundance of extra, over cooked skin that hung over her bikini panties, andwobbled on her body made us all feel slightly seasick. I looked at Little Willie and saw himsquinting his eyes tightly as he watched his date for the weekend jiggle outthe door.
The guys sat around and drank and joked for awhile until the women came backfrom the beach. Unknown to us, they hadacquired drinks on the beach, and were slightly tipsy when they returned. I was out on the balcony, smoking a Marlboroand drinking a Budweiser when Lisa made her way to where I was leaning againstthe railing. She snaked her arms aroundmy neck and planted a big kiss right on my mouth while smoke still dribbledout. I was surprised at the turn ofevents as she had never shown the least bit of interest in me. Drop Daddy had apparently picked up on thiswhen she returned, because he had gone into one of the bedrooms and wasattempting to crawl around the concrete column (Spiderman style) to see whatwas going on the other side of the balcony. I heard some scraping behind me, and just saw Drop as he was desperatelytrying to negotiate his way back to his balcony while steadily losing his grip. We were ten floors up, and his Spiderman wallcrawling powers were not quite up to the task. We both were amused by the daring voyeur. I told her to go get ready. We were all going out on the town.
We all jumped on our bikes, Little Willie looking more and moreuncomfortable as Bucket Head crawled behind him. As we were heading for the Hog’s BreathSaloon, Heavy’s Sportster started making a terrible racket. We bypassed the Hog’s Breath, and slowlylimped to the Harley dealership. Heavyhad something major league wrong with the bottom end of his engine, so we hadto leave his bike at the shop. Breezehad left to find some places for us to go that evening. He came roaring up and proudly announced, “Ihave found the rockingest bar in town! We are going to have a blast!” What we should have realized at the time is that Breeze is a karaokefiend. “Rockingest bar” means the barthat Breeze can rock with his own crooning.
Heavy had to get on the back of the Gray Ghost with me since his bike wasdown. His wife Ashley and Lisa were inAshley’s car. At the time, Heavyoutweighed me by about two hundred pounds. It had to have been a comical sight to see the two of us on my bikeriding through the busiest parts of town, but Heavy had to take it up a notch,and every pretty woman we would pass, he would lean down and kiss me on theneck, or wrap his legs around me. I hadto laugh, but I knew that I would be ruined if anybody recognized me. People were already beginning to wonder if wewere an alternative lifestyle club.
It was still afternoon, so we decided to make the traditional stop bySammy’s Go Go Lounge. As we werecruising along, I heard a loud female voice hollering, “Breeze! Stop!” We pulled over, as a very tall, attractive blonde haired woman ran up toour group. She ran up to Breeze andasked if she could ride with him. Breezeintroduced her as the daughter of the chief of police of a large metropolitanpolice department with which he did business. Breeze runs in higher circles than the rest of us. He told her to jump on. She did and we started off again. We had not gone two blocks till Breeze’s newpassenger started yelping and laughing, and pulling her top up for all thepedestrians we passed. Breeze had a lookof shock on his face, as he saw a potential disaster looming with the daughterof one of his biggest clients flashing the public on the back of his bike. We rode post haste to Sammy’s. When we gotthere, we were politely turned away because we were wearing cut off teeshirts. They had to be kidding. We couldn’t come into a go go bar onthe beach because we had cut off tee shirts. Of course they offered to sell us tee shirts with sleeves for $25.00. We politely declined.
We tried the Viet Cong go go jointaround the corner, but were met with the sameresistance to our cut off shirts. Wasthis Americaor not? Since when can an American notgo to a bar of this caliber without sleeves on his shirt? We were dismayed, but not beaten. Breeze piped up, “Let’s go to that bar I toldyou about earlier. It’s the best placein Ft. Walton Beach.” We all agreed and went to Breeze’s newfind. The whole way there, Breeze’s newrider kept whooping it up, and exposing herself to anybody who cared tolook. I was riding beside Breeze as helooked at me and mouthed the words, “What am I going to do?” I started laughing, because it washilarious. It was if the woman waspossessed. We laughed all the way toBreeze’s new nightspot.
As we pulled up, we noticed a distinct lack ofvehicles in the parking lot. There werea couple of older Cadillacs, and a handicapped equipped minivan pulled up tothe building. Breeze was excited andhurriedly entered the building. The restof us were more circumspect as we walked inside the dimly lit bar. After my eyes adjusted to the gloom, Inoticed that there were two elderly gentlemen drinking at the bar, four elderlywomen sitting at two tables, and a very elderly gentleman singing a ConwayTwitty song with the karaoke machine. Not one person in the place was under the age of eighty.
Breeze was not dismayed. He started talking up everybody in the placeas if he was a game show host and they were all the contestants. He immediately signed up for some songs andstarted singing and walking around the room like a lounge singer. The old folks in the place livened up to hisantics, and a couple of them even got up and attempted to dance. I anxiously watched the old women doing thetwist, expecting one of their hips to break at any given moment.
I looked at Drop Daddy and Heavy, and we all brokeout in laughter. No, it wasn’t what weexpected, but this was still fun. Breezewas so into his role as the night’s entertainment that he started flirting withthe old gals. They were loving it. He actually talked one of the old blue hairedgals into flashing us. I about choked onmy drink when she turned towards us and pulled her top up, her ancient breastsdropping to her waist. This would be anight to remember.
I looked at Willie, who was still lookingunhappily at his date. She wasn’t havingmuch fun, and was complaining to Willie that she wanted to leave. He was trying to make the best of a badsituation and asked her if she would dance with him. She declined to his dismay and continued topout. Finally, he told her, “You reallyneed to lighten up your attitude. If Ihad a bucket head, I would be the friendliest person around.” Once again, I nearly choked. The look of shock on her face was almostcomical. Her shocked expression turnedinto one of acid hatred. She jumped up,called a cab and left. Willie found outlater that she took the cab all the way to Enterprise, Alabama;a trip of about one hundred miles. Ican’t imagine what the fare for that ride might have been.
The rest of the night was fun despite the drama. We all got up and danced with the old girls,and laughed ourselves silly as they all got up and did the “Electric Slide.” Breeze was right; this was the rockingest barin Ft. Walton Beach. We partied with the old folks until late, andthen made our way back to the hotel. There were just about enough rooms for everybody, except me. I crawled onto the couch and drifted off tosleep, an amused smile on my face. Neverwill I forget being flashed by a woman old enough to be my grandmother, nor thejoy on their faces as they partied with the biker gang. I titled this blog “Sex on the beach”. It wasn’t about sex, but I bet it caught yourattention and made you read it, didn’t it? IWFFIW.
|Posted by iwmcnation on May 23, 2010 at 10:00 AM||comments (0)|
As the webmaster of the IWMC Nebraska website and the IWMC National website, I have had the pleasure of seeing what an impact we make locally and nationally. I receive an average of 3 emails per month regarding membership and/or comments from individuals who have encountered IWMC clubs accross the country telling us how much they appreciate what we do.
I have also had the pleasure of working with my brothers and sisters accross the country in growing our club. When I receive emails of interest, I send a description of the club, what it means to me, the expectations of club members, etc. to the interested party. An email is also sent to the respective regional/local president sharing the email of interested with them in hopes that they will make contact with this individual. I have been so amazed by the lightening fast resonses by these chapters and regions! KUDOS!!!
All I can say is keep up the awesome work in the job, in the club, and in life! We make a difference!
River City Chapter Omaha, NE