Rider Spotlight

Name’s Kyle—but out here, they call him Grompy. Born and bred in the unforgiving streets of Dubuque, Iowa, he was raised on grit, gas fumes, and the grind of wrenching before he could spell torque. At 35, he’s packed with fire, fists, and full-throttle fury—built, not born. Roofing by day for over a decade, but when the sun dips low and that lid comes off, Grompy breaks free—no cages, no rules, just raw pavement and a roaring machine beneath him.

He doesn’t ride to impress—he rides like hell’s chasing and heaven’s too far to bother. Bikes ain’t a hobby; they’re church, therapy, and war cries all in one. Fiancé, father, brother—yeah, he’s got roots that ground him, but the streets still call louder. Lot sessions with his girl and kids, bonfires, burnouts, and late-night runs that make sirens hesitate—Grompy doesn’t play it safe, he plays it real.

Leather-clad, battle-scarred, morals loose and throttle wide, he’s the outlaw soul your mom warned you about—and the one your girl can’t stop staring at. Grompy ain’t just a rider. He’s a prophet of pavement with an iron heart. One rule: Ride till the road runs out… then ride harder.