“People are pouring into Washington in record numbers. Bikers for Trump are on their way,” President Donald Trump tweeted earlier this week, taking a break from posts blasting John Lewis and his horrible Atlanta district, the biased and dishonest media and former President Barack Obama’s signature legislation, the Affordable Care Act, which Trump calls the “Unaffordable Care Act.”
At the helm of the bikers brigade but poles apart from Trump’s bombastic style is Chris Cox. The charismatic and exceedingly polite leader of Bikers for Trump is a chain saw artist who lives in Mount Pleasant, S.C., right outside of Charleston. He sold sculptures of dolphins and pelicans in gas station parking lots to finance his travel to the cross-country series of biker rallies that eventually led to this week’s strong showing of supporters roaring into Washington on two wheels.
“Chris has always been a really great guy, and I’m not blowing smoke,” said his lifelong friend Randy McCray of Atlanta, who grew up with Cox in Alexandria, Va. “He’s like that commercial — the most interesting guy in the world.”
Cox was born in Raleigh, N.C., and grew up in the Washington suburbs. His father, Earl Cox, was a journeyman political operative, working for the departments of Agriculture and Labor and on George H.W. Bush’s campaign in North Carolina. Chris Cox caught the political bug early and worked with Bush’s vice president, Dan Quayle, during campaign events.
“That’s where I learned how to throw political rallies,” he said.
He studied political science and communications at the University of North Carolina Wilmington, but he dropped out before graduating. The 48-year-old hasn’t been married, doesn’t have kids and lives with his mom and stepfather in a stately brick home in a well-heeled subdivision — all freedoms he readily notes make his road warrior lifestyle a possibility.
And here’s the other thing about the head of Bikers for Trump: He’s not really much of a biker. His political activism began when he started campaigning for House Resolution 1836 – the Monuments Protection Act – spurred by the site of World War II veterans locked out of the National World War II Memorial amid a government shutdown. The National Park Service at the time said it had no choice, but the sight of elderly veterans unable to pay tribute to their fallen brethren quickly became a political flash point.
Among other things, HR 1836 stipulates that the federal government would agree to keep facilities open even in times of government shutdown.
Rallies started with a small gathering in Virginia Beach, Va., and culminated with a large presence at the Republican National Convention. The loosely organized band of (mostly) brothers motored into Washington this week, pledging to form a “wall of meat” to assist law enforcement in maintaining order. In the hours before the inaugural parade, the wall of meat met some eggs when protesters pelted a biker.
Rich Mayo and his Honda VTX Cruiser made the trip from metro Atlanta to Washington to join the Bikers for Trump brigade.
“What they stand for is to help the police,” said Mayo, who lives in Loganville. He got interested in making the trek when he heard protest groups coalescing as Inauguration Day approached.
“Sanctuary cities are ridiculous — let’s get rid of them,” Mayo said, referring to cities that offer safe haven to residents irrespective of their legal status.
“I don’t blame them for wanting to work,” Mayo added. “I don’t know what the answer is or the solution. I bet Trump does.”
About the Author
