Guest Report - November 2026

Meeting of the Minds You Had to be There

How do you explain Meeting of the Minds to someone who has never been? Honestly, I don't think you can. You can show them the agenda, tell them about the presentations, legislative updates, workshops and meetings - But that's not really Meeting of the Minds. You had to be there.

This year was extra special for me, because everyone came to Wisconsin. There is something pretty damn cool about watching people I have met through the Motorcycle Riders Foundation (MRF) over the years, arriving in Milwaukee from all over the country. These are people I may only see a few times a year, but when you see them again, there's no awkward small talk. It's a hug, a smart-ass comment, probably a little grief about something that happened the last time you were together, and then you pick up right where you left off. That's my kind of family.

Trust me, when you bring this many motorcycle-rights people together in one place, there's no shortage of personalities. We are loud. We are opinionated. We don't always agree. Heck, some of us probably couldn't agree on where to go for dinner without forming a committee and debating for 45 minutes. But when it comes down to protecting motorcycling, we show up. THAT is what I love about these people.

You had to be there for the stuff that wasn't printed on the agenda. The hallway conversations, the stories over a drink, the laughter coming from across the room. There are the introductions that became friendships and the hugs from people you didn't realize how much you missed, until they are standing right in front of you. Not to mention those late-night moments that probably should never make it into an official MRF report. Some things just need to stay in Milwaukee.

Eventually morning comes, coffee gets poured and maybe a few people are moving a little slower than they were the night before. We get back to business, because underneath all the laughter and smart-ass comments is the reason we came. We give a damn about motorcycling. We care about our freedom, about our rights, and we know these things

don't protect themselves.

That's the part people sometimes don't see. This movement isn't powered by fancy titles, it's powered by ordinary people who decide to show up. People who make the phone call, walk into the meeting, talk to the legislator, or ask the question. They learn something new and then go home, next time bringing someone else along. I've walked the halls in Washington, D.C., with some of these people. I've watched them work and watched them refuse to give up when the answer wasn't the one they wanted. I've watched first-time attendees realize they belong in that fight too, listening at first, then asking questions, then they're exchanging ideas with someone from halfway across the country. Somewhere along the way, it clicks. "I can do this."

Yes, you can. That's how this keeps going. Not because one person does everything but because a whole bunch of people decide to do something. Near the middle of the weekend, I stopped for a minute and looked around. Different states, different organizations, different patches, different backgrounds and definitely different opinions, but one thing brought every one of us into that room. The motorcycle. At some point, it became more than transportation. It had become part of who we are. The sound when it fires up, the miles, the wind, the people and places we've seen. That feeling that's hard to explain to someone who has never experienced it. Freedom.

That's what all the meetings are really about. That's why Meeting of the Minds matters. Because this work will wear you down. There are days when you're having the same conversation for the hundredth time and wondering if anybody is listening. Days when you think, why the hell am I doing this? Then you spend a weekend with these people. Someone tells you about a win back home, a new person gets fired up, someone gives you an idea you hadn't thought of, or someone makes you laugh until your stomach hurts. Those are the times when you remember. Oh yeah, this is why. For the people and the lifestyle. For the next generation. For the rider who isn't even born yet who will someday throw a leg over a motorcycle and feel the same thing we do. They probably won't know our names, or how many meetings we sat through. How many miles we traveled, or legislators we talked to, refusing to take "no" for an answer. But that's okay. If they're still free to ride, we did our job.

As Meeting of the Minds Milwaukee came to an end, the hugs started again.

"Ride safe."

"Text me when you get home."

"See you next year."

Slowly, our motorcyclist-rights family started scattering back across the country. I was tired and my voice was probably shot. My social battery was definitely running on fumes. I wouldn't have changed a damn thing. Milwaukee gave us great memories, great conversations and a whole lot of laughs. A few stories that will get better-and significantly less accurate-with age. And maybe one or two stories that absolutely do not need to be put in writing. But more than anything, it reminded me that none of us is doing this alone.

So, what was Meeting of the Minds Milwaukee like? I could tell you, but you still wouldn't completely understand. You really had to be there. If you weren't, maybe that's your sign. Come next time. Sit down with us, ask questions and laugh with us. Learn something. Teach us something. Have a drink. Make a friend. Find out why some of us keep coming back year after year. Because Meeting of the Minds isn’t just a conference, it’s our people and I’m damn proud to be one of them. Keep riding, keep fighting, keep showing up. We’ll see you down the road.