The Old Man Down the Road to Sturgis

I waited maybe 35 years before taking the motorcycle plunge. I'd wanted one pretty much my entire life.  I had friends in high school who rammed around on Honda 90s, then moved up to Honda Dreams and Scramblers. I rode around on those sometimes but couldn't think about it at the time. Easy Rider came out and that was it, the fire was going. Off to college where a friend had a Triumph Bonneville that ramped everything way up. Other guys in Winona were getting into Harleys and Indians, and then choppers.

Working in NW Iowa one summer a friend of a friend was a guy who'd been badly broken up in a car wreck, and spent a year working on a crazy Harley chopper from a body cast.  He didn't want anything to be easy, and his left leg was wrecked anyway, so he had a suicide shifter on this thing. Being crazy, he and another friend sat me on this thing and said, "Go".  I'd never seen a foot operated clutch or stick shifter on a bike, let alone tried!

You can imagine that didn't go so well but nothing got broken, on me or the bike.

Anyway, long years later Leslie sort of reluctantly went along with my folly and I got my first Harley, a 2006 Sportster Custom 1200. I loved that thing and would love to have been able to keep it instead trading when I moved up to a brand new 2008 Street Glide, supposedly the sportier of the Electra Glides. Really I picked the SG because it was more stripped down and easier to keep relatively clean. That's an issue since I'm in the "ride it, don't rub it" gang.

I ride most every day the weather allows, and I rode in everyone of the past 12 months. Even in the worse weather years I won't put it away until after Thanksgiving, and I probably get it back out sometime or other most Februarys.

It's hard to say what is so captivating about these things. Certainly the whole, Get your motors running, head out on the highway...thing. 

I've come to believe there are two kinds of guys. Those who are on their Harleys, and those who aren't yet.  Of course the other side of that is that there are two kinds of guys with Harleys.  Those who have wrecked, and those who haven't wrecked yet. 

Luckily - in the weirdest way - I've wrecked and so hopefully have it out of the way without too much damage (to me anyway). My sporty got sort of rolled up into a ball, and when my thighs blew through the bars they were bent all all the way around, each side 180 degrees, so that they were crossed completely. I have actual dents in my quads still and that was over six years ago.

The next day I walked into the Harley store and they let me back in the shop where my ride was up on a lift with four guys standing around poking at it. They turned around and saw me and couldn't believe I was on foot. Leslie exhibited the most ridiculous level of understanding I could have ever imagined, and I'm still on two wheelers six years later!

Last winter a friend at work asked if I'd be interested in going out to the Sturgis Rally as he and family and friends go most years, but his spouse wouldn't be this year. I said sure, even though I had no big desire to ever do it, but it was so cool that he invited me that I didn't think I should pass it up.  Leslie practically insisted I had to do it, so I was off.  

Right before we left an important conflict developed for me and Dave Amy, the friend, rearranged a bunch of reservations to make it still happen.  We headed out on the Thursday prior to the start, arrived Friday after two easy days, some beers and pizzas, and a nice night's sleep in Pierre SD.  Friday we had great steaks and prime rib in Custer. Saturday we went in to Sturgis and rode all over the Black Hills, including the Custer State Park wildlife loop in the early evening. Sunday we did the big rides, Needles Highway and Spearfish Canyon and had a blast.

       

Beautiful downtown Sturgis SD, this is a day before the rally officially starts. I never really thought about doing any of the big rallys. Except for for rock and roll, crowds aren't my thing at all. It turns out that folks flock to the Hills earlier and earlier and things are really cooking a week ahead and a week after these days.

  

 Dave Amy and I taking pictures of each other on The Needles Highway. We had to stop so I could catch my breath after holding it for too long. "Highway" is loosely used in this case. It's maybe 16 feet wide total with plenty of steep downhill 180 degree turns that zip right around and send you back up the same 9-10 degree slope you just came down, but with only about 200 bikes per minute coming at you and untold thousands behind. I was very happy my peeps didn't ever have to wait for me, and that I never held up those behind.

 My baby back in the driveway in Northfield. We did over 1,600 miles, including 620 in one day on the way home. No problems at all on the long day. It was surprisingly easy and we were safe the whole way.

We saw one bad wreck on I-90 on our long day home, and indications of a couple while in the Hills as entries to some of the roads at intersections were blocked off for rescue folks. I think three people were killed during our time out there. It's really terrible and literally makes me weep that folks get hurt during what should be their coolest of times.  I saw all kinds of numbers about how many people were out there and still coming. The miles people ride related to the rally add up to very many millions, so I'm not sure the injuries are more than might be expected for that many miles anywhere, but it's still hard to think about.

We met really cool, nice, folks everywhere, and the big lesson for everyone else is that no books should judged by their covers!