“the way it was & still should be”
Cochise CHOPS Magazine
This magazine is NOT politically correct!!! We deal with mainly old bikes, old cars, old people and young folks who have their heads on straight. We bleed Red, White & Blue!!! cochisechops@yahoo.com or (386) 690-6270 Our New Salesman, Shiny (386) 278-3370
Most Photos Taken By Me Or By Many, Including Shaun Ponte
Mar 1: Biker Church & Blessing @ OB’s 11AM Leaving Tropical Tattoo @ 10AM
Mar 1: Daytona Abate Monthly Meeting
Mar 5: CHOPPER TIME @ WILLIE’S TROPICAL TATTOO
Mar 8 & 22: BIKER CHURCH & FREEDOM RIDE @ Tropical Tattoo @ 11AM
Mar 20: CHOPS Voted #1 In Bathroom Room Reading
Mar 29: Mystery Ride The Boat Bar 10AM $5 (includes meal) Read CHOPS
Services:
*Volusia Powder Coating, NSB
*Street Thunder, HD, Mims, FL
*Annie Oakley’s Ormond Beach
*Motorcycle Detailing, Daytona Beach
*V Twin Spealities (386) 310*8333
Other Services:
*Wind Walker’s Leather
*A Ok Guns, New Smyrna Beach*
*Once Upon A Wall Murals & Paintings
*Tropical Tattoo (386) 672*1888
Watering Holes:
*The Boot Hill Saloon On Main
*Pirate’s Pub, Paisley, FL
*Walden’s Bar, Daytona Beach
*The Boat Bar, Port Orange, FL
*The Most Read Magazine
*Foxhead Lounge In Osteen, FL
*OB’s Deland, FL
*Sorry Charlies, Samsula, FL
*The Last Resort Bar, Port Orange
Many Of You Want To Attend Our Church Service, So On The 8th!!!
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Take A Ride South On Route 1 To Mims, FL For Whatever You Need These Men Are Good People ~ Cochise
Many Of You Want To Attend Our Church Service, So On The 8th!!!
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cochisechops@yahoo.com (386) 690-6270
www.cochisechopsmag.com
Welcome to Bike Week, may the vehicles keep their cool, as we ride LOUD and proud for 10 days!!!
Visitors be sure to ride the Southern Loop. Go South on Hwy. 1 to Oak Hill & turn right on Maytown Rd, (after stopping at Wind Walkers on the left @ the light.) It’ll run you right into Osteen & the Fox Head Bar.
Of course if you’re going South on Hwy. 1, you might as well ride on down to Mimms, and right past the stoplight, (in Mimms) on the right is Street Thunder, stop in and take a look around. They also have great mechanics there, if you’re having sickle problems. Come back North to the stoplight and turn left on Hwy. 46, it’ll run you into Hwy 415, turn right and and go to Osteen from this direction. Two Southern Loops that will show you what the “real” Florida looks like!!!
Another good ride is to Paisley & the Pirate’s Pub. Take Hwy 44 West starting at Sorry Charlies Bar & Grill, NOW WITH FULL LIQUOR, until you cross the St. John’s river, then take an immediate right onto, County Rd 42, and follow till you see the Pub on the right. When leaving there take 42 West to Hwy 19 and head North to Hwy 40, go right. It’ll bring you back into Ormond Beach!
And then there is “the loop”, a great “short” ride, but it’s worth it if you don’t want to go far!!!
God’s Corner
Many Of You Want To Attend Our Church Service, So Be At Willie’s Tropical Tattoo, Out Back, On The 8th of March!!!
Come Hear Cochise Share The Word, & Some Testimonies From Local Icons!!! Mar.8th, 2026!!!
BIKER CHURCH SERVICES:
Mar 1st @ 11am @ OB’s Lounge In Deland @ 1750 N. Hwy 17
NEW
Mar 8th @ 11am @ Tropical Tattoo In Ormond, 825 Yonge St.
Mar 22nd @ 11am @ Tropical Tattoo In Ormond, 825 Yonge St.
On Mar. 1st we will meet at Tropical Tattoo @ 10am and ride over to OB’s for the 11 am service. As always Biker Church rides after the services at Tropical, called FREE-
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“WHERE THE LOCALS” “HANG OUT”
About 1 Mile South Of I-95, On Hwy 1
FULL LIQUOR BAR
ICE COLD BEER
BLOODY MARY SUNDAYS
POOL
LARGE OUTDOOR PATIO
“Owned By The Best”
Of course the special day for 100’s of us is March 5th at Willie’s Tropical Tattoo In Ormond, across from Publix, caddy corner from Sonic & North of Walgreens.
Great music, cold beer, hot bar tenders and the BEST Choppers to be found anywhere in good old America. It’s the only show that’s Nationally known, so you never know who you’ll see there. Of course we know who you want to hang out with and talk too, Trailer Trash Chopper’s Crew, who will be sit up with me in the back left corner of the lot. Stop in and say hello or to purchase a T-shirt. Remember, “Ride It Like “YOU” Can Fix It”!!! And “Put Your A$$ On Some Class, Ride Choppers”!!! Talk To Marcus, Shaun & Cochise!!!
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Though Willie & Ms. Jean will be super busy, flag them down and say “Hey”!!! Grab one or two of their Tshirts, as they will have some great ones for sale there. You can get a Tattoo that day also. We’re glad you’re here, so enjoy all Daytona Beach and surrounding area has to offer. ~Chise
Walts Sticker Shop Picture will drop of pic at printer
Business Opportunity
Walt The Sticker Man Is Retiring
Includes: 5,000 Different Stickers In Computer, 25 Sticker Trays - 15 Wall Hangers For Large Stickers, Vending Tables - Purpose Built Computer For Sticker Inventory.
100K Inventory Stickers - Roland SP540V; Just Rebuilt With New Printheads.
Can Do: Stickers, Signs and Posters! Would Be Great For Online!!!
Walt Lives In Holly Hill, So It’s Available For Bike Week. For Consultation Call 1-(386) 871-6585 Asking Price $16,000.00!
Marcus’
Grandparents 1923
The Bar Owned & Ran By Bikers That Ride Thanks For Stopping By For Our Events
Full Liquor * Hot Barmaids * Cold Beer
“You Will Enjoy The Ride Out, So Come On”
Evelyn Colt buried her husband, then walked the streets of New Mexico, turning grief into vengeance and legend in one night.
She buried her husband at noon under a sky that seemed ready to split open. In 1879, with dirt still fresh on Thomas Colt’s grave, Evelyn Colt did the unthinkable—she went after the men who killed him. Born in New Mexico Territory and raised tougher than most men she’d ever met, Evelyn knew the land, the wind, and the sound a revolver made when justice was about to speak. They told her to leave town before sundown. She stayed. By dusk, she had his Colt cleaned, loaded, and ready.
It wasn’t rage that drove her—it was something colder. She walked down the main street like a shadow come to collect a debt. Five men waited on the saloon porch, laughing until they saw her eyes. The first shot cracked the silence in half. The second and third came slower, deliberate. By the fifth, smoke hung thick in the air and the street was still. She didn’t tremble. She didn’t run. She just stood there, the gun low in her hand, breathing steady as the wind rose around her.
When the undertaker arrived, he said she never blinked once. Folks later claimed they saw her riding south that same night, veil torn, revolver at her hip. No one ever found her again. But in the border towns and badlands of New Mexico, they still whisper her name—the Widow Colt—the woman who turned loss into legend and vengeance into something sacred.
They thought her broken when her husband died in the shaft collapse, his body hauled up twisted and blackened by smoke. They thought her easy prey when the land office, greased with bribes, signed her claim away to the very men who had starved her out. A widow with no family, no money, no voice—what fight could she have left?
But the nights in that mining town began to change. One by one, the men who had cheated her were found cold in their own beds, or sprawled out in the alleys behind their saloons. A mark was always left behind: a splintered scrap of wood carved with two words— *Debt Paid.* The lawmen sent after her found nothing but dust and hoof prints. She moved like smoke, vanishing into the canyons before a posse could even saddle up.
By the time the last man fell, the story was already running ahead of her. No one knew her name anymore; even her neighbors spoke of her only as “the Widow.” She was said to ride with the storm, a rifle across her lap and eyes colder than the Sierra snows. And when she vanished south, leaving the town to its ghosts, she left behind a silence deeper than gunfire—because every man from Colorado to New Mexico feared that someday, if his sins grew heavy enough, *she* would come collecting.
The Rockiness Bar In The County
Don’t Forget Bike Night Every Thursday 6PM “NOW” Full Liquor Available, Come Party
Mystery Ride Mar. 29th, 2026
Meet Here @ 10am KSU 11am
$5 Includes Meal & 50/50 Where The Locals & Bikers Hang Out Open Daily 7am - 2am
“Get Rid Of Your Hangover Here”
$2.50 Domestic * $3 Imports
I hadn’t had my 63 Panhead very long.
It was my first running Harley and I was just getting familiar with it.
I was out on the street riding along when a strange noise began, it was loud and changed with engine RPM. It sure got my attention quickly. I pulled over and located the rapping coming from the transmission area.
I turned around started heading for home. At the next stoplight, a city motorcop pulled along side, and motioned for me to pull over. He said “ Don’t shut your bike off.” I didnt have a M.C. endorsement on my license,and I figured I was in trouble. I pulled over and found neutral put the bike on the kickstand, idling, the noise seemed louder as the cop stopped behind me blues lit up.
He walked up, he was an older guy, and had a weathered reddish face, typical Irishman. He asked me if I knew what the noise was, and of course I had no idea. He proceeded to explain about a bronze washer on the Kickstarter gear that was worn out, and that the noise was the starter clutch, being partially engaged. He told me how to fix it, and the parts I’d need, and the cost. He warned me to not shut the bike off until I got it safely home. He never asked for my license, or other papers. He wished me well, and followed me part of the way home.
So the next day I took the kicker cover off, and of course he was right on.
They called him “Bloody Bill,” and the name alone carried terror across Missouri’s broken hills. William T. Anderson was no ordinary soldier—he was a ghost of vengeance born from the Civil War’s darkest corners.
First a Confederate guerrilla, then a leader of men who lived and fought outside the rules, Anderson rode with Quantrill’s Raiders before carving his own path of blood. Union patrols whispered his name, settlers feared the sight of his banner, and even among bushwhackers he was known as the most ruthless of them all.
He fought not on open fields, but in ambushes, raids, and swift strikes that turned roads into graveyards. At Centralia in 1864, he led fewer than a hundred horsemen against a Union force many times their size. The result was carnage—trains derailed, soldiers cut down, and no mercy given. His men carried scalps, wore Union uniforms stripped from the dead, and followed Anderson with a loyalty that came only from shared brutality. Wounded again and again, “Bloody Bill” pressed on, a figure draped in pistols and rage, refusing to bow even as the war’s tide shifted.
But violence breeds an end as savage as the life lived. In October 1864, Union cavalry caught Anderson near Albany, Missouri. He fought to the last breath, riddled with bullets, his body displayed as proof that the terror was finally over. Yet his legend lived on, whispered in the camps and crossroads of a torn country. Some called him a monster, others a necessary evil of war—but none denied his iron will to fight until death claimed him.
In 1878, a young Henry McCarty worked in the kitchen of the Hotel de Luna, perched on the edge of the Camp Grant military reservation near what is now Bonita, Arizona. There, he washed dishes, helped with cooking, and—true to his restless nature—stole horses when the opportunity arose. It was a small, seemingly ordinary life on the frontier, but for McCarty, it was just the beginning of a far more notorious path.
Before long, he adopted the name William H. Bonney and stepped fully into the life that would earn him legendary status as Billy the Kid. From humble beginnings as a dishwasher in a remote Arizona outpost, he became one of the most infamous outlaws of the American West, a symbol of lawlessness, daring, and youthful rebellion.
In retrospect, Henry McCarty might just be history’s most famous dishwasher—a boy who scrubbed pots and pans one day and rode into legend the next. The mundane and the legendary coexisted in him, reminding us how even the smallest frontier towns could produce figures whose names would echo through history
I was 17 years old when I was waken from my sleep by a friend of the family and was told to get up and get my sisters ready for a trip to my Aunt Doudy’s house about 2 miles away.
As we pulled up I saw Momma sitting at my aunt’s table. I already knew something was wrong, but seeing Momma sitting there sealed my suspicions, that there was something wrong with Daddy, who had dropped Mom off at her work in the city then went off to work at his job, the job of being a timber cutter in the area where we lived.
As I walked onto that small porch and went through the screen door into the house Momma broke down as she saw us 5 children, me, Cindy Lee at 15, Dianna Dean at 11, Suanne at 9 and the baby Robin Lynn who was only 5 years old. She first saw us as her babies then as 5 fatherless children, and she cried, as we did as well, as my aunt started telling us what happened, and that Daddy was dead.
The night before another timber cutter had a lodged a tree in some other standing trees and didn’t tell the skidder driver who would have pulled the wedged tree down. It was quitting time, I reckon, was the reason the tree was still lodged the next morning, as Daddy walked into the woods.
That morning of August 2nd, 1972 that tree, I’m guessing, was dislodged by the wind, and as Dad walked in, carrying his chain saw, a gallon of chain oil, a 2 1/2 gallon can of
Trailer Trash Choppers
Transforming Stock Softtails Into Beautiful Ridable Choppers
“PLEASE CHECK US OUT ON INSTAGRAM”
“One Man’s Trash Is Another Man’s Treasure” Call (904) 315-1434 Or (386) 481-8898
“I Love Daytona Beach. It’s The Mecca Of Harley Davidsons! The Home Of Beautiful Bikes And Fast Woman”! ~ Shaun Ponte
“I Love Doing These Kushtails!” ~ Marcus chainsaw gasoline, an axe, a measuring stick etc. And not paying attention, the huge oak tree came down. One of the limbs struck Daddy across the nape of his neck and pinned him in a squatting position, where he couldn’t breath. Prayerfully, he was knocked unconscious and felt no pain. I was told, as I never visited the place of the accident, that there was a little bit of blood seen where he was later released from under the heavy weight, (by the skidder driver), blood from what I presume was from the back of his head.
This day, after I spent 2 weeks caring for my sisters and Momma I became a rebel. I was angry with God and I cussed Him something terrible. I wasn’t afraid and cursed as it did not bother me. My life spun out of control and
from going to jail a few times, mostly for drunkenness and such, to just Rasin’Hell! Any way that I could rebel, I did.
I literally hated people telling me what I had to do, except for a few jobs, but if a manager or boss seemed to belittle me, I was gone. “FTW” and all these rich azzholes who I thought looked down on poor people like my family. Daddy was working from daylight to dusk 6 days a week carrying a 40 pound saw for about $2 an hour. I made up my mind, that life wasn’t for me nor my family, if I ever had one. Who was I kidding, as I was raised in a city full of old money, and unless you were a part of the K of C Hall, you never stood a chance at going into business, etc.
I hated God, people (except for a few), religion and so on. Even in jobs I liked, I still was a rebel, even though I had a wife & two daughters at the time. Two precious little girls, and the oldest one can recall when I was the way I was. I became a disgrace as a husband a sad excuse of a father and a not up to snuff employ. Chet man, I was sick of working for minimum wage, but that’s where I was.
In 1983 I became a Christian and I was happier, but I still was working for $3.35 an hour and now I had a baby boy also. In 1985 I felt God, who really did love me, was calling me to preach and I was “Laid Hands On” and Ordained at Airline Baptist Church, in Henderson, KY and went off to Bible College, where I did a 4 year accredited degree in 3 years, but that degree didn’t help much, as I don’t recall ever making more that $12,000 a year, still struggling, still felt whipped and still a rebel.
I wrote a book called “Outlaw Chapel: I’m Still A Rebel”,
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you can find it on Amazon!!! It’s my Autobiography, and it explains in more detail of why I’m still the way I am. Do I trust and have faith in Jesus, of course and as I look back since I’ve been a resident of Florida, I have succeeded somewhat, but I’m getting more tired at every year that passes. You’d think I was rich after doing CHOPS Mag for 18 years, but the other magazines make more in a month than I do in a year, and I’m NOT complaining as I’ve gotten content and lazy. I just want to get by, and that’s what I do. There is money to be made right here, but as I said, I’m tired! (The problem is chasing my money for ads!)
Even as getting to preach the Word 3 times a month, I’m still a rebel. No matter what I do, if someone is pushing me, I’m a rebel. The only thing that keeps me grounded is Bianca and our children, grand babies and great grandchildren.
Believe me, I probably could be more important, more likable and with more money if I was just a passive individual, instead of rebelling at all things, like the rich, the arrogant business owners and “legal” thieves!
From the bike clubs, to the churches I’ve pastored, to “YOU” today, I am more comfortable around the average Joe, the common folk, the real ones that know the “real” truth about this old world, the rebels! ~Cochise
PS. I have a handful of brothers that can count on me and a handful of friends; and a bunch of acquaintances that CAN’T, and I know I can’t count on you either, especially you who have black balled me out of the “Big Bar’s” ads that I use to have. “ALL” the other magazines still get
their ads, BUT ME!!! Why? Because of jealousy? Or is it because CHOPS is still the best & most read magazine in the area? (Truth!) Sorry, if that chaps your behind, but “I’m A Rebel!”
PSS Thanks to many of you for loving the rag and me. I know who you are, so be blessed!!! See you at Willie’s Chopper Time. Come hang out with and talk to us back there in the corner by the toilets.................No Respect!!! JUST JOKING, as I know Will & Ms. Jean loves my family and vice versa!!! See you there!
Oh to have strength again. We don’t ever think about it.The energy we had as kids. Was so amazing but completely unrecognized. Of course. We didn’t know that it doesn’t last. Today was the first day I actually walked myself to the other side of the house without my ol’mans assistance. The hospice people brought over a wheelchair and a walker. I never used one before. It worked. Still shaking and painfull but I almost felt normal. I’m telling this cause I just wanted to let you know the walking back to where we come from on this Journey. Without the stupid cancer pain. It’s actually a great experience. You do a little hallucinating. Can feel very mellow (with the help of pain meds most likely.) and the hospice people are great. I know we’re going to enjoy the ride to this great beyond called the Twilight zone. So no fear people. Even your loved ones should be happy and proud of you. You all lived your life to the fullest, if not, start now! This was a run at Just Plain Janes. As good as ever. A lot of strong people. ~ Pulsating Paula (RIP Sista)
He was a distant friend, only saw him when I picked up cars at his general repair garage. In the back corner, behind the furnace was parts of an old Harley. I knew he was sort of a retired old club rider, had been injured in a wreck, a few years ago. He had no real working elbow, on one arm, but he made due, kept his business, and pushed on with life. His wife had left him, he lost a son in Vietnam, and now he was just living in a room in the back of his shop.
We usually talked bikes, and he would often mention a Knucklehead. He said it was about all he had to hold onto. At that time, I didnt even know what a Knucklehead was, until he brought me back into his living quarters, and opened a closet door, pulled off a tarp, and there was this chromed out very clean Knucklehead motor. It was all done, ready to go, but money was scarce, so there it sat, the rest behind the furnace. But he was proud, like he said, it was all he had to look foward to.
At that time, I got drafted into the Army, when I finialy got back, the garage was gone, and I’ve always wondered about where it all went.. .
I hope he finished it, and it looked like this.
If you enjoy Kenny’s & Greg’s stories, let them know the next time you see them.
Ken is always at the HD Swap Meet every 2nd Sunday, and Greg & Donna are out every where. Look them up & talk riding!!!
This picture is of a motorcycle being hit from the rear and smashed between that vehicle and the one in front of them.
Many people have died or was seriously injured from NOT leaving themselves an out when stopped in traffic. Getting hit from behind is often unavoidable, but being smashed is.
First, keep your head on a swivel and on your mirrors when stopping. Leave your bike in gear until you get a buffer behind you, like another “stopped” car or truck.
Second, when you have to stop behind a stopped vehicle at a light, DO NOT get right on their bumper, but stop far enough behind them with front tire aimed to the right or left to the open spots beside the front car so that you can be pushed to the right or left of the vehicle. You may still get injured but chances are you won’t die, as you will be pushed to the side of the car in front of you and it will take the impact of the hitter, and NOT you.
Stop far enough behind that you can see both rear wheels on the vehicle, over your windshield. Be safe out there!!!
Captivating Ponce Inlet beachside, with 3 levels of Home to love and enjoy. Nuzzled in between the Atlantic Ocean and South Peninsula Riverfront, this South Atlantic Boulevard Neighborhood is one of Ponce Inlet, Florida’s most sought out real Estate areas. Large 2 Bedroom, 2.1 Bath, Large kitchen with sit down counter and dining room combo on 2nd floor. The walk around Patio & Deck area’s allows a full view of the Marsh and River to make this a very nice entertainment area for family and friends.
Master Bedroom on top floor, has a very large suite, with a jacuzzi and a walk-out deck and patio area, to sit and watch the beautiful Ponce Inlet sunsets. This home is truly a natures lover. Second Bedroom makes a large separate Guest area, ground level with a private, bathroom. Bedroom and porch which are located off the 840 Sq ft Garage that has plenty of room for all your cars and toys. Home has some updates. Only qualified Buyer’s need to Call for an appointment this listing won’t last long.
Agent Remarks
For all information and appointments, text or call Gayle E. Jones, 386-852-2481 gaylejones@adamscameron.com, or Les Puc at 813-449-1111
JUST REDUCED TO $725,000.00
