By 2011, with his boys out of the house and their business thriving, Brian and his wife thought it was a good time to explore the rest of the country. They downsized, rented out their house, bought a 40-foot luxury motorcoach with all the amenities, and hit the highways. At first, they spent a few months touring the Four-Corner states (Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico, and Utah), but soon grew tired of the desert and headed south for the Gulf Coast. When they hit the Gulf Coast in Texas, they meandered along Route 90, staying days or even weeks at a time at RV resorts in Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and finally Florida, soaking up the sunshine and more than a few drinks along the way. Brian had family in Punta Gorda, and he thought he’d stop by and say hi! before moving on. But winter in Florida can be intoxicating. The weather was a perfect 72 degrees and perpetually sunny, and Brian and Inge loved it so much that they decided to extend their stay and rented a long-term lot at an RV resort just south of Punta Gorda. They spent days in the pool or on the beach and evenings sipping margaritas with good company. Life was good until it wasn’t…
We were touring Colorado with the beast one weekend when we came across the infamous US Route 550, a.k.a. ‘Million Dollar Highway.’ I didn’t know it at the time, but the route was known for its hair-raising hairpin turns and lack of guardrails. I made it through by holding on for dear life and ignoring the fact that there were only inches between our tires and a thousand-foot drop. When we stopped at a gas station in Silverton for a break, the clerk was astounded that we had made it through with the bus and told us that others who tried usually went off the cliffs. Hence the term ‘Million Dollar Highway.’ Talk about dumb luck. – BGW
From Colorado, the trip south to the Gulf meant they had to travel through the Lone Star State, and it was there, just across the border with Oklahoma, that the couple was caught in a windstorm. It didn’t seem serious at the time, but little did they know that a piece of their RV’s roof had been torn off in the melee. Since the rest of the trip to Florida was beautiful and sunny, they had no idea anything was amiss. It wasn’t until much later, when they were ready to continue their travels in the spring, that one night in the wee hours of the morning, a typical Florida monsoon hit the RV park. The couple woke up lying in a puddle of water that had poured in from the damaged roof overnight, soaking the motorhome’s entire interior and destroying everything. It was a total loss, and now stuck in Florida, Brian and Inge rented a cozy little cottage just across the bridge in Port Charlotte until they could figure out their next move.
Fun Fact: Brian and Inge affectionately named their 1992 Safari Serengeti motorhome “Deep Purple” for its deep maroon color. While they could have easily afforded a newer, more modern vehicle, they opted for the older motorcoach because the previous owner had meticulously cared for it and upgraded much of the interior with modern appliances and electronics. And it had chrome. Lotsa chrome. Even the powertrain was upgraded to include a Cat C8.7 marine diesel coupled with an MD3060 Allison automatic transmission, which, at a whopping 650hp, would leave just about any hot rod standing at the stoplight. It was a beautiful, raging beast that well deserved its moniker.
A couple of weeks later, Brian and Inge were hit with the full force of the Florida summer, with triple-digit temperatures and equally high humidity. They found some relief in their air-conditioned cottage, but being the social animals they were, they weren’t about to be hemmed in by four walls 24/7. So they hopped on their Harley and hit the highways, checking out biker festivals and scoping out chili cookoffs in the area. At one such event, the couple met an American Legion rider, simply known as Railroad, from the local Port Charlotte Post 256. As they talked, Railroad told Brian that, as an honorably discharged combat veteran, he was automatically eligible for membership in the Legion and encouraged Brian and his wife to join. Brian was totally oblivious to the Legion and other veterans’ organizations, having made a clean break from the military in 1985 to raise his family and pursue his career. However, he was intrigued, so he noted Railroad’s phone number, thanked him for the info, and said they would be in touch.
He would have contacted Railroad sooner if not for a small problem. Brian thought he was healthy. He had his diabetes under control and was handling the sweltering Florida swamp shine pretty well. He even sat in with a few local bands. But then one day out of the blue… Chest pains and a trip to the hospital confirmed it. Heart attack. Well, that threw a wrench in the works, and the couple’s plans to continue their cross-country trip were sidelined along with Brian.
It was always Inge’s dream to swim with the dolphins, so I booked a trip to Dolphins Plus Bayside in Key Largo, clear on the other side of the state, so she could. It was supposed to be a surprise, so we took the Harley, and I told her it was just another road trip. The trip there went off without a hitch, and Inge was over the moon about her surprise, but the trip back was a shit show. First, the starter on the bike went out, so we had to push-start it whenever we stopped. Then, halfway through Alligator Alley, we hit a swarm of bugs the size of quarters that, at 70 miles an hour, not only felt like being shot with a shotgun but also exploded into a gooey bug death mess that always ended up in my face. Finally, just as we were back on the Gulf Coast, the motor gave out, and we had to hire a tow truck to take us back to Port Charlotte. Yeah, it was still worth it. – BGW
Brian was a good soldier and followed his doctor’s orders, but after a few weeks of convalescence, rage-filled TV news, and fake reality shows, he began to climb the walls of his air-conditioned prison and dug out Railroad’s phone number to work out a time to meet at the Legion Post. Railroad made sure the Post Commander, Dennis Costello, was on site when Brian and Inge parked their Harley and walked into the Legion Bar. There, they were greeted by a friendly, enthusiastic crowd of about 10 Veterans, so the couple bellyed up to the bar, listened to Dennis’ pitch, and signed up as members that day, with Brian as a regular Legion and Legion Rider member and Inge in the ladies’ auxiliary. Within the next few weeks, the duo also joined the Disabled American Veterans (DAV) Chapter 82 and the Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW) Post 5690.
With renewed purpose and vigor, Brian and Inge dived headfirst into volunteering for veteran causes, including the Punta Gorda Veterans Village (VOA Florida) and Habitat for Humanity, which helped homeless veterans find homes. They also supported the Veteran Resource Fair and the Wounded Warrior Project, which helped veterans obtain the assistance they needed from the Department of Veterans Affairs. In fact, Dennis was so impressed by the couple’s vibrant attitude and willingness to volunteer that he nominated Brian for the recently vacated Vice Commander position. Within a few short months of joining, Brian was elected.
The legion had been suffering from financial problems due to mismanagement, so Dennis tasked Brian with getting the post shipshape again. With his wife on board, the first thing they did was make the bar profitable by installing a point-of-sale system, streamlining the ordering process, and hiring qualified bartenders. They then did the same for the kitchen. Now that the veterans had a place to hang out and eat, Brian and his wife turned to engaging the local community by sponsoring barbecues, poker runs, and Wounded Warrior events, including bringing in local bands.
Fun Fact: Brian has been around motorcycles and the biker lifestyle all his life, starting with his father, who was a member of the notorious ‘Hells Angels’ in the 70s, through his teenage years, when he raced motocross, into adulthood, when a motorcycle was sometimes the cheapest way to get around. Brian’s love affair with riding motorcycles has never waned, and his wife, Inge, shares his passion for the open road. So, if you can’t find them tooling around the house or jamming in the studio, they’re likely out on the road, pulling over only to throw back a beer and pick bugs from their teeth.
With the legion humming like a well-oiled machine and feeling a bit healthier because of it, Brian had a bit of free time and thought he might hit the stage again. Nothing crazy, just a gig here and there. So he hit the classifieds and found an ad for a band looking for a second guitarist and singer that sounded interesting. He called and reached drummer Herschel Burden III, who promptly invited Brian to audition. It wasn’t much of an audition, per se. Brian connected instantly with the other guys, both personally and musically, and they were willing to work around his limitations. So Brian started right then and there as the band’s new keyboardist/guitarist. Now, all they needed was a band name…
What happens when you put a group of middle-aged, politically incorrect, half-rednecks in a room to conspire about anything? You get Cracker-41. Brian, drummer Herschel, guitarist Gary Stanczik, and bassist Dennis Cory came up with the name that derived from the derogatory Southern term for a white man, ‘Cracker,’ and the Tamiami Trail Highway 41, which was the main route to just about anywhere along Florida’s west coast. “Sure, we had better band names, but Cracker-41 made everybody snicker, so we kept it,” Brian recalls.
What made Cracker-41 unique was that everyone in the band had years of professional experience and sang, giving them a huge repertoire of songs to choose from and creating some really cool vocal harmonies. They were ready to hit the ground running, so using his connections with the American Legion, Brian booked gigs at Wounded Warrior Project and Legion events, which gave them the exposure needed to land jobs at biker festivals, outdoor ‘Swamper’ fests, and even highfalutin country clubs. Within a few short months, they went from weekend warriors to headliners and were busy touring the Florida coast. Unfortunately, too busy for Brian…
The rigors of managing the radio business he and his wife had built, volunteering at the Legion, and gigging 3 to 5 times a week began to take their toll on Brian’s health. His doctors warned him to take it easy, but he didn’t listen. At least not until the chest pains returned and it was confirmed he was having mini heart attacks. At that point, his doctors advised him to leave the sweltering humidity for a drier climate. Brian had no choice. As in Austin in the late 80s, he once again had to give up a good thing due to circumstances beyond his control, and he sadly left Florida, Cracker-41, and the Legion behind.
Before we left Florida for good, my wife and I decided to take one last road trip on the Harley down the Gulf Coast, but it was a little too early in the season, and we were freezing our ass off. We stopped at Gator’s Crossing at the intersection of San Marco Rd and Highway 41, when I was reminded of a story my buddy had told me about crashing a hauty-tauty country club on his motorcycle. We thought we could one-up him by crashing the pompous 5-star Hilton on San Marco Island, so I called and booked a reservation for that night. The experience was priceless from that moment on, starting with the flustered valet who didn’t know where to hang the parking tag, to the Ted Baxter-looking retirees recoiling at the sight of two road-dirty, leathered-up bikers entering the reception area. We had nothing but road gear with us, so we showed up to the super posh restaurant and bar later that evening wearing biker boots, jeans, and matching “Fuck-You” T-Shirts. They even ran my credit card 3 times just to make sure I had enough to afford a couple of shots of their 200-year-old tequila. After that, we were the most popular couple at the bar. – BGW