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by Genghis

I bought the latest issues of THBC and Cycle Source the other day. I read 'em page to page in two hours, and then tossed 'em into the circular file for future reference. I not only found them uninspiring, I felt like I wasted twelve bucks. Hey man, that's not a good feeling in these recessionary times. It felt like I took two fives and two singles, and threw 'em into the trash can. Contrast that feeling, with the feeling we used to get when we got done with the last page the latest issue of Snow's IH. The feeling was that we wanted to archive the issue. We wanted to put it aside in our treasured pile of Iron Horse magazines, to be perused at a later date uncertain, for IH had a literary content that was rare for a biker rag. What made Iron Horse unique, was its stable of columnists who not only were average street bikers, but inspsiring and competent writers---who drew you into their lives with gusto and wit. It wasn't just a hacked-up collection of bike features with pretty pictures. In a word, IH was real. Real, just like IH readers---readers who were concerned with everyday, street biker things---not "bike build-offs" and who was the latest, hottest celebutard bike building masterbater. IH made you think because IH was characterized by intelligent writing. Consequently, IH appealed to readers were intelligent members of the biker subculture, not the Biker Lites who littered the landscape who only seemed to care about conforming to some unwritten code of behavior and dress. No, Iron Horse was by the smart, for the smart. Smart writers and even smarter readers. One of those inspiring IH writers, was Flynch.

FLASHBACK: Patty and I are on a plane at Cincinnatti Airport. We were there getting on a connecting flight to California. The plane was about to take off, and at the last minute---a flight attendant comes running up to our seats and says.....

"Someone named Flynch at the boarding gate said to give you this..."

It was a Holy Ranger Shirt. About an hour before that, I called Snow in his Brooklyn Apartment and asked him for Flynch's telephone number. (Flynch lived within driving distance of the airport) Snow said he couldn't find it (Snow was notoriously unorganized this way). "Wait a minute... Snow said. "I think I wrote it on the outside of my helmet...", he said. He gave me the number. I called Flynch and told him I was at the airport for a few minutes.

That was just like Flynch: young, enthusiastic and unpredictable in a happy way. When Flynch came aboard IH, he offered a fresh perspective, and a breath of fresh air with his views on the biker subculture. He was in a word, welcome---as he's welcome now to the Going The Distance website. That's is the point of all this. After IH's demise in 1997 and all of the intervening years---Flynch and I are reunited. Flynch is coming aboard Going The Distance with his own "Road Warrior" columns. We all welcome back his unique thoughts and writing style. Hey Flynch! Welcome back! Later.