Hey, Bandit. We arrived in Sturgis in record time. We unloaded our gear in the rickety rental house and immediately headed out to the Full Throttle Saloon to catch the deal with the Discovery Channel between Indian Larry and Billy Lane. You know dipshit, the Biker Build Off thing that's been going on for years?
Feature action access would have improved if we could have elbowed our way within' a couple hundred feet of the stage. Man, the place was packed. After a couple of hours encased in that mob, we fought our way downtown to Main Street, where the Roadhouse was set up with a Discovery stage inside. We thought maybe this is was excitement home turf, so we checked with one of the guys (who was trying to look official with a backstage pass and everything) and asked him “where was the Build Off action?”
“It just left, in mass,” he muttered lookin' cool behind jet-black shades. “They're headed for the Full Throttle Saloon-they were only a few hours late.”
We then decided we would wait and catch it on TV rather than fight our way back out to the Full Throttle. Later on in the week, when we finally made our way back to the Roadhouse, we did hear that Indian Larry won the contest.
Early the next morning we rolled eastbound to Rapid City (also in South Dakota), to check out the factory offering. They only brought the new CVOs (Custom Vehicle Operation) and a couple of '04 touring bikes. They saved the new Sportster for the 100th anniversary party in Milwaukee. The CVOs included a tricked-out Deuce and a Road King Custom. From the Rapid City Convention Center, we headed across the interstate to the new H-D dealership . A great place to check out a whole bunch of vendors in one spot, but what a mess bobbing and weaving in and out of the lot. The driveway to the parking area was directly on top of an exit ramp from the interstate. It took us a full 45 minutes of idling around the entire dealership perimeter. Another 20 minutes was burned escaping, it sucked. That was our one and only trip to H-D of Rapid City.
The fight never ends as we struggled twice more blasting into Rapid City. First we attended the first custom bike show sponsored by Metzler Tires. One bike show entrant prerequisite–roll in on Metzler rubber. Boy did they attract some nice sleds. Jesse Rooke from Phoenix, Arizona was there with his new Schwinn/Big Twin custom, first displayed a few weeks earlier in LA at the Calendar Show. In Sturgis it sported a new Indian Chief engine, (Indian just went brankrupt). A crew from the Speed channel clamored down aisles interviewing bike builders and taking riding shots in the Journey Museum parking lot (whose parking area hosted the show).
The Journey Museum, for the second year in a row, hosted a custom motorcycle event. This year the exhibit was titled the “Art of the Chopper” and again famed photographer, Mike Lichter, played a major role by displaying a number of photos from his new book entitled Sturgis. Michael's photos (with captions) were arranged around the perimeter of the room, while the floor space was filled with custom choppers from various builders such as Chica, Indian Larry, Billy Lane and Hank Young.
Suddenly I found myself dodging bikes, RVs with bikes, truck with bike laddened trailers, packs of bikes and pickups loaded with bikes. I pondered the deep meaning of it all, standing in the Black Hills on the western edge of the South Dakota territory. Once an Indian territory where the Sioux ran free, in 1874 Lt. Col. George Armstrong Custer confirmed the presence of gold in the Badlands through a Chicago Newspaper. Miners and outlaws stormed into South Dakota. Withing six months the population of Deadwood had blustered to 7,000 uninvited residents. After the gold rush came the onslaught of the outlaw.
Who could resist the natural and man-made wonders linked with pristine roads that wind through and around the many national parks, leading to Mount Rushmore and the monument to Crazy Horse. Sturgis is west of Rapid City and further west are even more fantastic roads that lead through Wyoming and Montana to Devils Tower and the Custer Battlefield. These roads draw a new outlaw, the motorcycle renegade who seeks freedom and adventure in the Badlands. Scattered throughout the web of roads are small towns like Huelett and Sundance. Closer still are the historic towns of Deadwood and Lead just a short ride through some of the most spectacular canyons on the face of the earth.
Regardless of what a man rides or how he rides, the main attractions are the open roads, the natural wonders and the people. People watching occupied most of our time. Colorful folks rode up and down Main Street, doing lap after lap, to be assured they were seen. A block over, on Lazelle Street, many of the motorcycle industry companies displayed their glittery wares. Lazelle Street has steadily changed, year after year, from a residential avenue to a banner waving flurry of new stores and asphalt parking lots for tractor trailer display rigs.
So, what was so different at Sturgis this year? It was the attitude. Hard to describe a feeling or a vibe, I sensed it before arrival from the anticipation of the event. Rumors abounded that the Sturgis attendance would be down due to the impending 100th celebration in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. The rumors proved to be unfounded when the population in the area swelled to record levels. Weather plays a major roll in Sturgis anticipation. This year the weather was decent since it only rained a couple of days early in the week and then again at the end. A minor lighting show and light hail, the day before we departed didn't quell the excitement.
During the trip home we scoured our minds, replaying events and scenes, sometimes laughing again at the colorful thoughts. We’ll be chuckling and telling jokes about Sturgis all year long – until we ride out again.
The Hawaii Choppers Only Show was barely over and Sturgis was scrambling toward us fast. We all had to get ready, take care of our jobs, houses, animals and ready the bikes for airliner shipping to the coast.
We departed Hawaii on July 30th, arrived at LAX at about 4:30 p.m. and jammed straight to Pacific Air Cargo just 5 minutes from the airport. We claimed our bikes and began to prepare for our journey.
My first big mistake, letting my wife, Joerline, packed for the trip. I waschanging my clothes while she stuffed the bike, so I didn't get to see all the crap she had packed for herself, and what she didn’t pack for me.
Mike, Claudia, Ryan and Lacey took off for Santa Barbara to meet with the rest of our pals from Hawaii who arrived the day before. There were eleven of us riding in our group, but I knew many more were heading to Sturgis from the islands. Local news had reported that all the people from Hawaii going to Sturgis filled up a whole 747 with bikes.
The weather in L.A. was not so good when we left, but we didn't care, all we wanted to do was to get on the open road. Island riding has its limits.
Up at the crack of dawn, a heavy marine layer hung over the coast. It was cold, but we were ready to go, even with our heads pounding from the Santa Barbara annual Fiesta Week party the night before. Heading up the coast to Monterey, fog draped over us as we hit Hwy 1. Finally, the sun popped thru and the ride was terrific.
The next morning we hit it for Lake Tahoe, facing a black horizon. It started raining, mixed with lot's of thunder and lighting. We didn't mind since we scooted along the Lake Tahoe waterfront. It was cool, I mean cold, but we had a good time gambling and checking it out. From Tahoe we rode to Wendover, Utah and rain followed the whole way there. At one nightmarish point, the traffic came to a sudden stop.
We weaved along the shoulder to see what happened and what we saw was not good. There had been a flash flood that hit the highway median and flipped two cars over so fast, they didn’t know what hit them. The people had to get flown out to the nearest hospital. The water was so deep that the cars couldn’t go through, so we turned around and rode the shoulder to the next off ramp, very grateful we weren’t passing when that flash flood hit. We were lucky to have missed it by 5 minutes.
As we came into Wendover, Utah, you could see lightning bolts hitting the freeway up ahead, it looked cool but after a long day, all we wanted to do was to get off the bikes, out of the rain, and have a drink. Wendover Utah, is no place to be on a Sunday because no one serves booze. However, just up the road was Nevada, and being that we were on the border of both states, that's where we were going.
We headed for Jackson Hole, Wyoming. The rain continued for about 5 hours into the trip, then finally cleared to sunny skies. Wearing only T-shirts and no helmets, we were Rolling at 75 mph and would get passed by a group of twelve bikes doing about 90mph. We didn't think much of it at first. We would go through a town and see them parked at a bar. Then they would pass us again doing 90mph. This happened a few times. As we started into Jackson Hole, it was beautiful as we dropped into the canyons. We encountered lots of hair pin turns, then as we came around one turn, we saw two bikers trying to flag us to the side of the road.
As I got off my bike, I realized it was two from group that had been passing us. As I ran up to the guy, he was in a state of panic asking if I had a cell phone that worked. I had a phone, but no signal. He said his friend went off the side and he thought he was dead. As I looked down the hill, I saw a guy face down in the dirt with a Road King on top of him. He had been wearing a full-face helmet, which was torn off and took part of his scalp with it. There were bike parts scattered everywhere, not what we wanted to see. As I was looking down the hill, he started moving his hands, so we ran down to him and lifted the bike off him. He was in real bad shape, so we did what we could until help arrived.
That was a shock to see for all of us, and the sad part was that all the other guys he was riding with didn't even know he went down. As we rolled into town we saw the rest of them at the first bar you came to. Only made us think to look out for each other and stay together while riding.
Gillette was next, then into South Dakota. When we arrived, everything came off the bike, and I was about to discover what my wife packed. I couldn't believe how much stuff she had, and what little I had! No wonder my bike handled like shit. That was it; time to get some boxes. I told her to pack some of her shit and send it home. My second big mistake. I left her at the Motel to pack, as I headed to Rapid City to see the guys at Legend Air about putting Air Ride on my bike. In less than 2 hours, it was done. It was money well spent and the guys at Legend were all terrific. I only wish I had installed Air Ride before I left, with all that weight I hauled.
While I was killing time, waiting for my bike to be done, I walked into Rapid City Harley and brought a new jacket. You don't really need jackets in Hawaii, although it does get cold during the winter sometimes. I was really looking forward to wearing my jacket on the ride back to the coast.
Sturgis was great. We ran into friends, saw lots of crazy shit, and the weather overall was good. While there, we called Jose from Caribbean Choppers whom we meet in Hawaii at the Chopper Only Show. My friend Deacon was staying with him in Lead so we went to see them. The ride was great with so many bikes everywhere. We found Jose's Filipino bright green house, but no one was home. We waited awhile but no show. Back down the hill we went only hit backed up traffic.
Around the turn someone had laid their bike over too far and took out two bikers in the oncoming lane. There was broken bones and twisted metal everywhere. It took about an hour before we were able to get through. Back in Sturgis and the Motel where boxes were waiting so I could take them to the post office and ship to Joerline’s moms in California, I made one last ride and completed my day’s tasks.
After a week in South Dakota, it was time to head towards home with a lighter load on my bike. The next day in Colorado, it was a bit cold and I was looking forward to wearing the new jacket. I looked everywhere, tore everything apart, but no jacket. My wife not only packed my new jacket, but also my extra pants, shirts and whatever else she could stuff in there, of mine. I think she put maybe two of her tank tops in the boxes.
This is the first time I took her on a long road trip; will there be another for her? Don’t think so, because I can't see myself hauling no damn trailer around. I think that’s why I saw so many guys with trailers behind their bikes. Not for their shit but probably for their old lady’s crap.
We left Grand Junction Colorado heading to Mt. Carmel, Utah on the way home. We stopped at one of the truck stop gas stations to fuel up and get a bite to eat. We covered about 400 miles and some of the crew was getting tired, plus it was 117 degrees out.
My third big mistake. My wife grabbed my wallet to get something to eat while I fueled up the bike. I always keep my license and credit cards in a money clip in my front pocket when I ride, and cash in my wallet. After we fueled up and ate, we were back on the road. About five miles down, my wife asks me,
”Ðo you have your wallet?”
“No, you had it.” I said as I began to flip out. I pulled off to the shoulder. She didn’t have it and I didn’t have it… I had to head back to the last stop, so I told the group to go on without us. There was nowhere to turn around on the freeway so I went right across the median through dirt, rocks and fuckin tumble weeds. I didn't care; my wallet was back there with the last of my cash in it. I must of rode over 100mph, and not a word came out of Joerline’s mouth.
Usually around 85 mph she'll start poking me in the side or clicking her fingernails in rhythm on my helmet. We made it back in record time. She jumped off the bike and ran inside. To my surprise she was back within minutes carrying my wallet. The money was gone, all eight, $100 dollar bills.
We jumped back on our bike and I think I cussed and yelled for about five miles. I had to tell myself that the money was gone and there was nothing I could do about it. At least I had all my credit cards and license. We caught up with our crew and told them. They knew it hurt but it wasn't going to ruin our trip. I hung in the back of the pack as we headed toward Mt. Carmel, or at least that’s where we were suppose to be heading.
The guys in the front missed the turn off and we ended up in Hurricane, Utah. It was so hot, most of the crew didn't want to ride on, they wanted to stay there. I didn't. Las Vegas was 110 miles away and I envisioned the Monte Carlo Casino, good food, drinks and trying to win some money back from the loss that we encountered. So that’s what we did. Joerline was tired but she agreed along with another couple, Hank & Pura. We took off, leaving everyone behind. It only took us an hour and a half to arrive in Vegas. At 8:15 pm perfect time. Mike owed me $100 so I got it from him before we left Utah, and Mark loaned me $400.
We were in the casino for about an hour playing the one-armed Bandit when our first bit of luck hit. I put $20 in the Wheel of Fortune machine and won $500 on the second spin. Then Joerline won $225. We had a great time and walked away with $700. I payed back Mark and still had cash for the ride back to L.A.
We were cutting into Victorville and the road turned into a two-lane freeway with no shoulder. Lots of freeway construction going on and a big-rig was following Ryan and Lacey just as Ryan's back tire blew.His spokes came loose and popped his tire. It could have been serious, but he handled it. As for the big-rig driver he was on it. He saw what happened and blocked the lane for Ryan. Come to find out he was a biker.
The workers across the freeway saw what was happening and the head boss who was running the job came over to assess the situation. He told his crew to bring a truck over which had a crane on it, and lifted the bike up and over the freeway to one of their flatbed trucks. He had one of his worker's run Ryan and Lacey to the nearest H-D shop. The head boss was a biker along with a lot of his workers. Unreal how these people came to the rescue. I wish we could have got all their names, but thanks so much to all of them. It really could have been a nightmare if they didn’t help out.
Well, we made back to L.A., dropped off our bikes to ship back to Hawaii, then stayed for two days visiting friend's and family. At Joerline’s moms, I opened up the infamous box and we all had a good laugh.
It was a great trip, and I can’t wait till next year and a lighter load……..
