Sandollar Motorcycle Club

10/15/2026

Saturdays will be come Sundays
Saturday supposed to be pretty windy and much cooler
Sunday looks more amiabale to ride
Meet at GTD 9 am

10/11/2026

Just checking In seeing how everyone is doing

Sorry for the late check-in. Had a lot of stuff to do after what's it name came through.
Is everyone Okay ? need anything ? Just let us know, please

10/07/2026

Tri cancelled, Weekend looks rather interesting
I know its a case of "Here's your Sign". But the Tri is cancelled. The whole week end looks interesting. All of you stay dry and most of all safe.

10/03/2026

Sandlines! Your Monthly Sand Dollar Motorcycle Club Newsletter is out today.

It's time for the latest updates and happenings from your favorite motorcycle club.

09/30/2026

Triathalon postponed until Oct 10, Business Meeting this Sunday

The Tri has been pushed back to OCT 10 6 am waffle House west of Hurlburt

This Sunday 9 am Business meeting Golden Corral

09/23/2026

Schedule change Sunday instead of Saturday
We will put Burnt Corn/ Conecuh Sauage in October

But Sunday is susposed to be really nice. So leave at 8:00 am GTD Ride till we find food.

09/20/2026

TEASE DAY
Today was way different. It wasn’t a Bobby Day. You know what a Bobby Day is: hot, wet, and miserable. The kind of day where you’re not sure whether you’re riding through Florida or being slowly boiled in a bag.
But today? Today was different. When we took off, it was in the 70s and pleasant. I know that sounds suspicious, but it really happened. The sky was overcast, the humidity was manageable, and for once you could ride without feeling like somebody had thrown a wet blanket over your head.
I call days like this at the end of summer “Tease Days.”
The Road Gods can be cruel. Very cruel. They’ll give you a morning like today—cooler temperatures, almost dry air, a pleasant breeze—and you start getting ideas. You begin thinking, Maybe summer is finally over. You start believing that Fall, which is only two days away, might actually mean something in Florida. You poor sap.
The Road Gods are up there somewhere, sitting around with their coffee, watching us. They’re saying, “Hey, watch this.” Then you enter Shalimar. And just like that, the Gates of Hell open. The humidity comes back. The heat climbs aboard. You’re right back in the same hot, wet misery you’ve been riding through all summer. That’s Florida Fall for you. It doesn’t arrive.
It sneaks up behind you, gives you a cool breeze for five minutes, and then kicks you in the backside. People ask me, “Why do you do this to yourself?” My answer is simple:
“I love riding more than I hate Bobby Days.”
Now, let’s get to the important back-office stuff. 8 Sandies. 160 miles. That 160 miles ought to tell you something about today's weather. When the weather is miserable, everybody starts looking for the shortest route home. When the weather is pleasant, suddenly nobody knows where home is. Today was one of those days. The weather was so nice it made you want to keep going.
We had breakfast at Milly’s Café in DeFuniak. It’s a pleasant little place, just right for coffee, breakfast, and sitting around visiting with people who apparently have nowhere else they need to be. Which, when you’re riding motorcycles, is pretty much the definition of breakfast.
I also understand that last week’s missive got my good friend Ken C thrown under the bus. I really didn’t mean to do that. Well...Maybe a little. But in my defense, I did paraphrase Ken’s comment a bit, okay quite a bit. And if you’re going to say something funny around a somebody who likes to embellish, you really ought to know better.
It was great seeing Randy and Brigitte L out riding with us today. I noticed Randy picked the best Sunday we’ve had in months to come along. Some folks have good timing. Some folks have Randy timing.
Bobby was out today too. He said the Indian group on Saturday took almost the exact same route to DeFuniak that we did—almost mile for mile. Great minds think alike, I suppose. The difference was, we went almost another 100 miles after breakfast. That’s what pleasant weather will do to you. It gives you confidence. Dangerous thing, confidence.
Then there was Misty on her Ryker. For those who aren’t familiar with a Ryker, it’s the sporty version of a Spyder. It’s got a sportier look and doesn’t have all the Tupperware hanging off it that you find on the big touring machines. None of that seems to bother Misty. She just rides. Anywhere we go, Misty is right there. You can’t tell her, “That’s too far,” or “That road looks rough,” because she’ll apparently just go find out for herself.
Then there was JoeJoe, who was in full weatherman mode. Location of showers? Away from us. Temperature? Very pleasant for riding. Chance of some world-ending storm appearing directly over our heads? Apparently low. It was actually nice hearing JoeJoe report that there weren’t any biblical storms waiting for us around the next bend. For once, the weather report didn’t sound like the opening scene of a disaster movie.
So all in all, it was a pretty good riding day. The Road Gods teased us. They gave us cool temperatures, tolerable humidity, dry roads, and enough sunshine to make us forget what August and September had done to us. And we fell for it. Because that’s what rider’s do. Give us one decent day and we’ll forgive you for a hundred miserable ones.
That’s what makes riding so damn interesting great riding. Oh and great riding friends helps a lot.

09/19/2026

Reminder Breakfast Ride Sunday slight change of time 7:30 instead of 7 am GTD

09/14/2026

A Bobbie’s Homecoming

As Bobbie once so eloquently put it, he was “tired of coming home hot, wore out, and wet.”
Now, the wet part was not the result of any particularly exciting adventure. It was sweat, brought on by the sort of heat that makes a grown man question every decision that led him to get on a motorcycle in the first place.

Well, today was what I’m calling a “Bobby Homecoming.” And it had just about everything Bobby has grown tired of.
Here are the facts, for those of you who require facts before you’ll believe a perfectly good story.

Eight Sandies rode 125 miles. That’s 125 miles of sunshine, heat, wind, bugs, and questionable judgment, all in pursuit of lunch. And not just any lunch, mind you. We rode all the way to Andy D’s in Milton, where they serve portions large enough to make you wonder if the kitchen staff has ever actually seen a normal-sized human being.

The service was good, the food was tasty, and nobody left hungry. Well, nobody except maybe me, because I was beginning to question whether I had been properly trained for this kind of eating.

Take Bobby’s BLT, for example. Somewhere, there is a pig that gave its life for that sandwich. I’m sure that pig would have been proud to know its final contribution to society was being stacked between two pieces of bread with what appeared to be approximately one pound of bacon.
That wasn’t a BLT. That was a bacon-based building project. I fully expected Bobby to need a forklift to get it back to the table.

Meanwhile, Misty, JoeJoe, and Bobby had already eaten breakfast before setting out, then rode 125 miles to eat lunch. I have reached an age where I no longer question such things. I simply observe them from a safe distance and quietly say, “I’m not worthy.”

There are people who ride motorcycles. Then there are people who ride motorcycles and apparently eat like they’re preparing for a three-day siege. The Sandies are rife with people who can do that and never bat an eye.
I am not one of those people.

Tim, just returned from Sicily. Where Tim says it’s hot enough to make you feel like a gyro rotisserie. Tim has temporarily stopped long enough to do laundry and repack. Then it’s off to the South Pacific. Bora Bora. Tahiti. Those exotic ports of call that most of us dreamed about as kids while sitting somewhere considerably less tropical, imagining what it would be like to grow up and see the world. Some folks retire. Some folks travel. Tim does both retire and travel just a bit more exotic this time.

Then there was a phenomenon today. Ken noticed it. The radio was quiet. Not just quiet. Peaceful.
Ken brought up the obvious question: “Sandy isn’t with us. Could that be why it’s so peaceful?”

Now, I’m not saying there’s a connection. I’m simply reporting the facts as they were presented. Still, when eight grown adults can ride 125 miles together and somebody notices the silence, well... that leaves a little room for speculation.
I’m sure it’s nothing.
Probably. But I will say this: It was an unusually peaceful ride. Scientists should probably study it.
Somebody ought to put a weather balloon up there. Oh JoeJoe is trained to do just that

There are certain things in life you don’t understand, you just marvel at it
And if Sandy reads this, I’m sure she’ll have something to say about that. Oh will Sandy have something to say. Which, come to think of it, may prove Ken’s theory after all.

All in all, it was another fine day of motorcycle riding.
Hot. Wore out and sweaty and a shower when you get home. It was another Bobby’s Homecoming only with a lot more bacon.

We loved every minute of it. It had everything food, roads and friends always a great combination.

09/12/2026

Sandlines! Our Monthly Sand Dollar Motorcycle Club Newsletter is out.

It's time for the latest updates and happenings from your favorite motorcycle club.