Sonny Barger and Mondo Porras Legend Ride
Reader Screen at Ralph “Sonny” Barger’s Memorial Service in Stockton
Sonny Barger. Love him or hate him, the man changed motorcycles and clubs forever. Sad day when he passed. I never met him in person, but we crossed paths online a few times. Respect was mutual, simple as that. When I heard his service was in Stockton, I knew I had to ride, pay my respects, and show support for Zorana, Sonny’s wife.
Work wouldn’t budge Friday before the service, but Monday and Tuesday were mine. Plan: ride to Stockton, then swing over to Reno to see Mondo Porras at Denver’s Choppers.
Friday Night — Rolling Out
Bike packed, kissed the wife and dog, said goodbye to friends, hit the road at 7 pm. Light traffic through Portland, quick fuel stop in Woodburn, then the Siskiyous looming. Roseburg threw a wrench in the plan—first gas station closed, second barely fed fuel but charged me. Lesson learned: always have options. Crashed at a cheap motel around midnight.
Saturday — Stockton Bound
Up at 5 am. Roseburg was just below 40°F. Fog hit hard in the passes. Southern Oregon, I’ll never get tired of you. Ashland stop for fuel and 5-hour energy, chat with a local: “Stockton? Ooooo, that’s rough.” Laugh it off. Rolling through the mountains, empty roads, perfect.
California barely registered until Sacramento. Somewhere in northern Cali, I got the usual reactions at the pump: Stockton? Good luck, kid.
I don’t lean on tech, but the Wave app GPS came through. Alerts for cops and breakdowns kept me aware. Every onramp from Lodi to Stockton had cops. Expected, given the crowd. Mission: arrive calm, no drama.
Hotel check-in was sketchy. Lobby behind bulletproof glass, no staff around. Walked across the street to Motel 6. Not better. Back across, revved the bike, tried again. Got a room, dropped gear, set AC to 62, cleaned up, rode to Stockton 99 Speedway.
Sonny’s Memorial
The memorial was heavy, respectful, peaceful. 6,000+ attendees, patches from everywhere. Stories from friends and Zorana hit hard. Angels, Bandido support, global tributes. Sun beating down, asphalt baking at 140°F, medics busy with heat casualties. Hydration was everything.
Fryed Brothers played mid-ceremony, brief intermission, then back to the service. Six hours, longest memorial I’d attended. Worth every mile of the 750 to get there.
Afterwards, Taco Bell for late-night fuel for me, food-wise. Saw a shooting outside the hotel. Stockton: rough town, indeed.
Sunday — Reno & Mondo Porras
Left Stockton, bound for Sacramento to meet up with my buddy Rob at his hotel to ride home together.
We left for Sacramento, Hwy 50 to Lake Tahoe, into Reno. Stop for drinks, hang out, admire the ride. Check rear tire—what happened? Consider new rubber in Reno.
Purpose: meet Mondo. Shop locked at first, security cameras chirping. Made some smartass comments, then Mondo rolls in, invites us inside. Legend status confirmed: 82 years old, still building, still loving it, still generous. Shop is a museum of craftsmanship. One hour tour, let him rest.
Reno accommodations were sketchy but manageable. Breakfast next day at Courthouse Cafe in Susanville: solid enough for a return trip.
Homebound
Backroads through Cali, Hwy 97 in Oregon—rough surface, fun lines. Hwy 197 to Maupin: pure reward. Dropped into The Dalles near dusk. Rob headed home slow; I pushed. Sunset on the river, stopped for pics, then balls out home. I-84 uneventful.
Lessons & Wrap
1,800 miles in three days. Shoulder issues and a busted hand/wrist? Minimal pain. Bars swapped weeks before the ride—approved. Bike handled, body held up, mind sharp. Trip confirmed: I still ride hard. Rear tire still needs replacement, but that’s future worry.
Ride hard. Ride safe.
Mondo’s shop is more like a museum!
Just a few more from Mondo’s place
