from Mark Dice: TRUTH LIVES on at https://sgtreport.tv/

by Jim Hoft, The Gateway Pundit: Another U.S. Navy fighter jet narrowly avoided becoming the second victim of a “friendly fire” incident over the Red Sea. On the same night an F/A-18 Super Hornet was shot down by a surface-to-air missile launched from the guided missile cruiser USS Gettysburg, a second jet barely escaped a […]

? BREAKING: President Trump Announces Immediate Withdrawal from WHO ? In a fiery statement today, President Donald J. Trump declared the United States would withdraw immediately from the World Health Organization (WHO), calling it a "corrupt Globalist SCAM" dominated by the… pic.twitter.com/lEgcUcN3dl — Jim Ferguson (@JimFergusonUK) December 23, 2024

Joel Samick’s garage is packed with retro motorcycles used for his RetroTours vintage motorcycle tours operation. (Photos by Kel Edge) Have you ever discovered something that has you asking yourself, Why hasn’t anyone ever done this before? It seems so obvious, and yet… (The “and yet” is usually the reason why not, but still…). That was my reaction when I first came across Joel Samick and his Northeast U.S.-based RetroTours operation seven years ago – and I’m still asking that very same question after spending two days visiting Joel and his wife, Lynn, in their spacious home on the Pennsylvania/Delaware border and riding a selection of their motorcycles. For this lovely semi-rural house comes complete with a large garage and workshop space to house 23 twin-cylinder motorcycles, plus two Fours – a 1976 Honda GL1000 Gold Wing (read my test ride review here) and a 1983 Suzuki GS550 ES, the only one not built during the 1970s.   The author enjoys his ride on the 1976 Honda GL1000 Gold Wing K0 rented from RetroTours. These motorcycles comprise both Samick’s personal collection of 1970s Big Twins and the RetroTours rental fleet. They run from 1970 examples of Bonneville 650 and T100C Triumphs to a 1973 Norton Commando Fastback 750, a 1973 Yamaha TX750, a 1976 Kawasaki KZ750, a 1975 Suzuki T500 Titan 2-stroke, a 1976 Moto Guzzi 850T3, a 1977 Harley Davidson XLCR, etc. on up to that GS550.   It’s a veritable time warp collection that Samick has available for customers to choose from in making their way to Kennett Square, Pennsylvania, the mushroom capital of the world (google it to see why!) and gateway to some wonderful riding country, in order to go touring the classic way, on an authentic period motorcycle.  Joel Samick operates RetroTours from his garage in Pennsylvania. “It’s important to stress that these are not perfectly restored, low-mileage collector’s items,” says Samick, who is in his late 60s, a true child of the era when motorcycles got used as everyday transportation. “These are working motorcycles that are carefully maintained but are not concours show ponies. I don’t want to modernize them too much, and I don’t want to fix them up to be better than they really were.”  “Okay, I do put on better shocks,” Samick continued, “and better lights, and a better horn and stuff like that, and blinkers, too, if they didn’t have them as stock. But I want people to experience them warts and all, and most customers appreciate that coming on one of our tours is going to add to their motorcycle knowledge simply because, in a given day, they can end up riding up to half a dozen different motorcycles in succession. That’s because on a group tour, we make it a policy to stop every 50 to 75 miles or so to refuel, stretch our legs, and swap bikes.”  RetroTours has officially existed since 2000 and has grown since then, mostly by word of mouth. “I wouldn’t advise anyone to try this business to make money!” said Samick. “But if you love meeting people of a like mind and doing adventurous rides on 40-year-old motorcycles, seeing America away from U.S. highways with cookie-cutter rest stops and McDonalds everywhere, and visiting the real America via country roads and byways, this is for you. While I may never grow rich, at least I’ll now grow poor a little more slowly while continuing to enjoy and share the adventure, the thrill, and the camaraderie of retro-touring. Every ride is unique, and each presents challenges, but I still love every ride I take, however short.”   At a cost of just $90 per day to include the rental of any of the bikes in the RetroTours lineup, plus a guided tour with Samick as leader, basic insurance, and home-cooked, post-tour dinner, it’s a bargain.  Samick has experimented with different group sizes and distances. “I try to tailor the tours to my specific clients, and I really enjoy designing trips to suit a client’s schedule, interests, and desires. From one-day local loops to extended journeys, I’m open to any suggestions, and I try to make it easy for customers to just show up and ride.”   Over the years, this routine has evolved into six or seven pre-planned tours per year, with Samick riding support, often on his 1977 BMW R 100 S with Dutch-built EML sidecar outfit. He’s experimented with group sizes of between three to 12 people and distances ranging from local jaunts to cross-country adventures and even international rides to Canada lasting up to two weeks.   RetroTours itineraries can be structured around any number of themes – gastronomic, cultural (Samick’s HQ is just 30 miles southeast of Pennsylvania’s horse-driven Amish country), scenic, or just plain fun riding. Samick likes twisting, lightly traveled backroads leading to places well off the beaten track.   “We’ll always look for the road less traveled, shunning highways completely, seeking the smallest and wiggliest lines on the map,” Samick said. “We try very hard to find routes that put us intimately in touch with the countryside we’re riding through. We sometimes use dirt roads, and stops may include local museums, scenic views, and even kitsch tourist attractions. If the weather’s fine, we sometimes stop at a small-town market for groceries, then picnic at a scenic spot in the country. When the ‘map distance’ is 100 miles, we allow 175!”  A hint of the ethos underpinning the RetroTours operation can be found in the 31-item waiver form customers must sign to confirm their acceptance. “I know that motorcycling is a dangerous activity, and I further realize that the trip I am about to leave on is at the lunatic fringe of motorcycling,” Clause 3 states. Or Item 23, which says, “Thirty-year-old gas tanks sometimes leak, and high-tension wires sometimes arc. There is a potential for on-board fire, while under way, and no extinguisher.” And underscoring the adaptability required to swap mounts all through the tour, Item 12 states that, “I will be switching bikes frequently, and there is no uniformity of control locations. Therefore, I will never really be familiar with the ‘feel’ of the bike I am riding, putting me in a very high-risk situation, even when nothing obvious is going wrong.” So there!  Driven by a belief that motorcycles should be ridden, not stored, Joel Samick has created a unique product, which I’m not aware of anyone else having matched anywhere in the world. Over the past quarter-century, he’s learned what it takes to plan and execute a successful tour while turning his hobby into a business.   The author rode this 1976 Honda GL1000 Gold Wing K0 from RetroTours’ fleet. “I’ve come to realize that the best part of RetroTours is meeting and getting to know other enthusiasts,” said Samick. “Making new friends out of those who come together to meet the challenges that are inherent in what we do on our RetroTours trips is a rewarding experience, which makes everything worthwhile. We have fun together!”  Find more information and plan your RetroTours experience at the RetroTours website.  The post RetroTours: Riding Classic Motorcycles Today  appeared first on Rider Magazine.

The Yuba River cleaves the heart of The Lost Sierra along this Northern California motorcycle ride. (Photos by the author) Editor’s note: This story was originally published in the October 2004 issue. The phone rings. It’s Werner Wachter calling from Austria. “You vill come to Sacramento this weekend to my Edelweiss presentation at A&S BMW?” It’s a question, but it sounds more like an order. I once asked Wachter, “What’s the difference between a German and an Austrian?” His response was subtle. He didn’t speak to me for months. Anyway, of course we will come to Sacramento this weekend. It’s the end of March. We are enjoying a temporary respite in the usually Stalingrad-like winter here in greater Bieber in Big Valley on the high plains of northeast California. My Gold Wing’s battery is beginning to need me. And it has been way too long since I’ve seen the man who proposed to my wife more than 20 years ago on a rocky mountaintop in the Negev Desert. God, had only she accepted, what I would have saved… Mount Lassen, at 10,457 feet, in all its glory from an overlook on State Route 44 near Old Station. The concept here is to ride 300 miles to Sacramento the fast way, west on State Route 299 over a couple of mountain passes and through one riverine canyon to Redding, then south on Interstate 5 down the long green riparian corridor of the Sacramento Valley. Then, after Wachter schnozzles up the riders at A&S BMW (located in the Sacramento burb of Roseville, the biggest Beemer dealer in the United States) on the many benefits of riding the Alps with Edelweiss, I shall lead him on an interesting route back to Big Valley for a short course in alfalfa farming and the putative wisdom of moving about as far from Los Angeles as one can get. It goes well. Wachter’s slide show is a stunning revelation of the truth and beauty of a moto tour of alpine Europe. It made me remember drinking grappa in the moon shadows of the Jungfrau.  Through the good offices of A&S BMW, Wachter secures the loan of a black and white BMW R 1150 RT-P Police Special. It is equipped with those lights and that siren, and on two occasions during the ride home, Wachter plays cop behind me and scares off a couple of the few years remaining to me and my loyal friend and passenger, Pam. The route home that I select, at least two thirds of which I’ve never ridden before, is a chancy high road in late March involving 6,700-foot Yuba Pass in the northern Sierra Nevada: Interstate 80 east to Auburn, then State Route 49 northeast to Calpine, then SR-89 northwest to SR-299, then eastward on the short final hop to the valley we love. Stay here and let the river lull you to sleep. Rolling north on SR-49 in the waning afternoon, it doesn’t take long to escape the densely populated suburbs and traffic that surround the state capital of Sacramento. However, within an hour, we are for all practical purposes alone at last, riding rapturously in a deep canyon along the north fork of the Yuba River, the road every bit as sinuous and captivating as the river itself. This northern section of the Sierra Nevada is known as “The Lost Sierra” for good reason. Regional population peaked at 7,340 in 1860 when the gold rush was in full swing and then began to wane as the mines played out. The contemporary head count is 3,584. Locals think this lovely trend is due to the rugged vertical terrain that seems to defy contemporary development, and we are not here to argue. At a pit stop, with the light failing and the temperature plummeting, Wachter queries me again. “Where have you made reservations for the night?” See all of Rider‘s California tour stories here. Reservations? We don’t need no stinking reservations. We round a bend of the road and there in all its charming magnetism, tucked away in an alpine gorge at the confluence of the Yuba River and the Downie River, are the twinkling lights of the fetching historic burg of Downieville. We ride across a bridge and pull into a place that looks like a bucolic illustration on a postcard, The Downieville River Inn and Resort, where the rooms are located 50 feet or so from the sonorous riffles of the river. We are greeted by manager Jamie Alichwer who says, “Glad you’re here, of course we can put you up for the night.” Ah, the no-plan method of motorcycle touring, it has always borne for me the sweetest fruit. Population here in 1860: 7,340. Now: 3,584. They don’t call this northern part of the Sierra Nevada “lost” for nothing. Downieville highlights: The best calamari steaks we’ve ever had at The Grubstake. After dinner I whip Wachter three games of eight-ball in a row at the favored local saloon, the St. Charles. In the morning, during breakfast at the Downieville Diner, I ask a sheriff’s deputy seated at an adjacent table if they’ve recently used the historic gallows still fitted with a noose that remains standing near the county courthouse located just behind the inn. He looks up at me from his plate of eggs and says with a friendly smile, “Not yet.” “Bikers Beware: Dead Man’s Curves Next 15 Miles.” This sign nailed to a pine tree along SR-49 near Sierra City just as the road begins to wind tightly up to the top of Yuba Pass only amplifies the warning we heard in Downieville. Watch the snowmelt, the blind curves, the rocks. Many riders have gone rubber side-up here. Since Wachter and I have both known the pain of that experience, we proceed with more caution than usual, and the reward at the top of the pass is a stunning eagle’s view of the sprawling green floor of the biggest alpine valley in North America, Sierra Valley, where working ranches date back to the 1800s and, like so much else here, seem little changed from quieter days. Historic gallows, downtown Downieville. Give a look at the map at SR-89 as it plunges north from Calpine to Lake Almanor through the heart of Plumas County in Feather River country and then farther north as it continues through Lassen National Forest. Notice the distinct dearth of dots and lines and wonder no longer why this vast region of northeast California is often referred to by the relative few who live here as the California no one knows. The wonder of it is not lost on Wachter. He keeps referring to the possibility of a new Edelweiss U.S. tour. He wants to go swimming in Lake Almanor where the water is almost too cold for the trout this time of the year. He does go swimming in Lake Almanor. Pam and I watch him splashing and turning blue from the shore. She asks me, “Is he crazy?” “Of course he is,” I reply, but he’s one of the happiest guys I know, and there’s a lesson in him that isn’t lost on me either. Lassen National Park may not be rideable yet, but the view of the immense volcanic mountain sheathed brilliantly white from an overlook above Old Station on our detour route on SR-44 is another sight that shocks up understanding that a woman is the true ruler of this planet, Ma Nature herself. There are people still living here who remember her wrath when Mount Lassen spewed roaring rivers of molten rock aglow with hellfire in 1915. That it is going to happen again one day is a foregone conclusion. What, you don’t like blind decreasing radius corners? From this point, the final 60-mile leg to Bieber in Big Valley is all home ground to me. One more stop seems required, Burney Falls State Park, located on SR-89 just a few miles north of its junction with SR-299. A hundred million gallons a day gorge up from volcanic basalt to create Burney Creek, and then all that water falls off a 130-foot cliff into a misty gorge lined with huge old-growth fir and pine, every tree soaring up to heaven with enough board feet to frame a mansion. We take the short one-third-mile hike down to the base of the roaring falls and into the mist where the air is as clean and tart as freezing watercress. We have a great time at home in Big Valley. I show Wachter the farm machinery, the wells, the irrigation lines, the golden sweep of the still dormant fields, the lonely beauty of the high plains. He understands why I moved here 10 years ago from SoCal. But he has promises to keep down there, at Keith Code’s California Superbike School at Willow Springs Raceway. He wants me to go with him, but I tell him I go to superbike school every night, in my dreams.  The roaring beauty of Burney Falls. As he’s re-packing his bike to leave a few mornings later, I warn him again about the lucky break we’ve had in the weather, and it’s changing fast as a light snow begins to blow in from the southwest. “Head west to the valley,” I tell him, “take the low road.” “No,” he says, “I want to go east on an interesting route.” “What about the weather, ice on the road?” He drills me with that look of the old empire in his eyes and says simply, “We are men.” Wachter, I love you because you’re far crazier than I am and so I know, for me at least, there is hope. See all of Rider‘s touring stories here. Denis Rouse is the founding publisher of Rider. He and Werner Wachter were friends for many years and rode together throughout the U.S. and abroad. Wachter passed away in 2021; Rouse wrote an obituary that can be found in the March 2021 issue and on the Rider Magazine website. The post The Lost Sierra: Northern California Motorcycle Ride appeared first on Rider Magazine.

Despite Democrat objections to a provision that excludes coverage of “transgender medical treatments” for children in military families, President Biden signed a bill into law on Monday that authorizes pay increases for junior enlisted service members, “aims” to counter China's growing power, and it increases overall military spending to $895 billion.

In case you missed it, the annoying illegal aliens are calling Donald Trump a fascist for wanting to close the borders and return people who don’t belong here to their homes. The Progressives promote and encourage aggressive illegal aliens. They have organized them into an army. On January 20th, ICE should have the trucks ready […] The post Annoying Illegal Aliens Storm NYC to Protest Deportations appeared first on www.independentsentinel.com.