I needed to be in York, PA, for a few weeks to train some dogs. Through TripAdvisor, I stumbled upon Snyder Bed & Breakfast for Wayward Bikers—and since I’m both a biker and very wayward, it seemed like a perfect fit.
I reached out to the owner, Joyce, who was warm and accommodating. She even arranged for her “ol’ man” Mike to pick me up at BWI. Mike, a quiet guy at first, turned out to be quite the storyteller. He spoke about the loss of a close friend—one-third of their tight-knit, three-man wolf pack. They had spent their days riding, scouting for resources and threats, and their nights in their self-proclaimed Fort Crusader (a no-girls-allowed hideout), reclining in hammocks, listening to Christian and old country music, and sharing tales of life and lessons learned. As he spoke, I saw a tear in his eye. As a dog trainer, I recognized the destabilization of the pack.
Welcome to the Pack
When we arrived at the house, I was introduced to Ripp the Olde English Bulldogge and Murphy the Yorkie, who quickly became my food and chair companions. After a long day of travel, I was beyond excited to sit down with Mike and Joyce for a home-cooked meal. Joyce, the more outgoing of the two, was always cooking and cleaning when not working, often teasing Mike about his obsession with motorcycles and his Fort, where he and his friend Icebox (or Coldiron, or something like that) spent most of their time. Icebox was described as a little odd, but with a very nice wife—something I could relate to, as that’s how people often describe me and mine.
Over the next two weeks, I spent a lot of time with them. After proper vetting (to ensure I wasn’t a commie sympathizer), Icebox and Wrench (Mike) invited me into their bamboo-clad Fort. I saw why they were protective of it—it was a sweet setup with a firepit, snacks (courtesy of Joyce), and hours of conversation about life, women, and whatever else crossed our minds.
The Tribe and the Fire
Then they took me to meet their leaders at Freedom Biker Church. First up was Bob/Houdini/Dragon (name depended on the minute), who struck me as a bit of a smartass but likable. Then came Preacher, their pastor, who had recently married and, because of that, was temporarily banned from the Fort. We all agreed that sooner or later, like all wives, his would need a break from him, and he’d find his way back.
At Freedom Biker Church, I met a crowd that reminded me of the cantina scene in Star Wars—a mix of freaks, weirdos, and oddities. But here’s the thing—they loved each other. They hugged, laughed, and made me feel like I’d been there before.
Then, Wrench and Icebox took me to Men’s Alliance, where I met even more outsiders—men from all walks of life who couldn’t stop talking about Jesus and His love despite our collective shenanigans. Again, there was hugging. Again, there was laughter. I thought Christians were supposed to be miserable and judgmental. Instead, I saw a group of men building each other up, yelling like barbarians, doing pushups, and slamming sledgehammers into tires. It looked cool, so I joined in.
As the night ended, we gathered around a fire. One man led a devotional. Some smiled, others wept. When that happened, other men—called Tribesmen—would silently walk over and hug them. It was one of the most beautiful, inspiring things I have ever seen. I felt like I had been missing something. Maybe an hour of church a week wasn’t enough. Maybe I needed consistent fellowship, love, and camaraderie to be a better husband, father, and friend.
A Tribe of My Own
Torque, the leader of this particular Men’s Alliance Wilderness tribe, introduced me to his wife, Ink, who runs Women’s Alliance. They also own Grindhouse Tattoos in York PA. She explained the importance of tribe life—how not everyone grows up with guidance, and we all need wisdom, mentorship, and brotherhood (or sisterhood) to heal and thrive. I also attended Keystone Tribe.
After attending three tribes, I learned that you get a call sign (probably a good thing, since I forget my kids’ names half the time). Once you have a call sign, you can work toward earning your challenge coin (or necklace, for the women). The only things given freely are respect and love—everything else must be earned.
Torque and Ink run a local tattoo shop, so I booked an appointment with Ink. As she worked, she shared more about how both men and women need their tribe. It all made sense.
Houdini (aka Bob/Dragon) turned out to be a tribesman too—but he’d been keeping it on the down-low.
More Than Just a Stay
While in York, I completed 37 appointments and trained over 60 dogs. That’s how I share the Gospel—showing people that dogs will follow a calm, stable leader without treats or commands. A tribe is no different—it’s a huge pack that thrives on unity, strength, and shared burdens. When one feeds, we all feed. When one mourns, we all mourn.
Joyce fed me so well that I never needed to hunt. Every meal was homemade, filled with love, and eaten in fellowship over conversations that actually mattered.
When it was time to return to my small tribe (my family), I was excited. But I also had peace knowing I belonged to something bigger. Before I left, Wrench and Icebox made me an official member of their pack. That meant the Fort was now our Fort. They worried about the friend they lost, but seeing me—someone with his same personality, just better (their words, not mine)—was a blessing to them.
Final Thoughts
On the flight home, I kept thinking about how short life is and how it’s made up of moments filled with the memories of those we cross paths with—even if just for a little while.
There’s something powerful about knowing that when the world is cold, dark, and scary, all you need to do is keep moving until you see a fire in the distance—because that’s where you’ll find your people.
I can’t wait to stay at Snyder Bed & Breakfast for Wayward Bikers again. And if they’re ever full, I know I have a tribe to call on. And if all else fails, there’s always the Fort.
Actually, Houdini introduced me to Mens Alliance before I moved from York to Fort Worth and encouraged me to go when I was overcome with a deep depression from SEP-DEC 2024, but the devil kept me isolated. Since attending the Cowtown and Hilltop Tribe since January I have had more spiritual growth in in two months than I have in the last five years. If you feel like something is missing in your life seek out a tribe and come to the fire to be transformed. Even if you cannot do the physical stuff we still want you to share and gain knowledge around the fire. This is primal, rugged, and real. This ordained by the Lord and there is NOTHING the devil can do to stop the fire. Be blessed- George
