Hey, Bandit… we just rolled in from Biketoberfest in Daytona Beach, Florida. Man, the weather was perfect this year, sunny and warm, just like it’s should be for a bike run. The temperature was in the 70s-80s during the day, with only a hint of some clouds, on Friday. In the evening, the temperature was in the low 70s, which was just perfect for riding from one party to the next sandy saloon.
The crowd this year was larger than ever, with the talking heads on the local TV channels crowing about a 100,000 bikes plundering the region. If the mile-long line of scooters posed on Atlantic Boulevard, waiting to creep down Main Street, was any indication, for once the news geeks were right.
If riders chose to avoid the screwed up traffic on Main, then there wouldn’t be any reason to wander the east side of the inter-coastal–well maybe Lollipops. Ah, but that's a completely separate succulent attraction.
For the past few years, the city of Daytona has been trying to divert the bulk of two-wheeled traffic to the mainland, due to the sniveling residents on the narrow peninsula. They cry about loud pipes, crowds, half naked women and too much fun. Most of the available square-footage on the mainland side is occupied by vendors.
However, the beach side sported a new vendor area just over the Main Street Bridge, in a tire company’s parking lot. Inside this new area were a couple of truck rigs from Weld Wheels and your old friends Orange County Choppers. The Indian Larry and Billy Lane combined booths, which were at the east end of the lot. That was the big crowd draw. When both Larry and Billy were on site, two-legged traffic was backed up the street for a block. The hotties taking care of selling t-shirts didn’t hurt either. Across the lot, where the OCC truck was set-up, the scene reminded me of the movie, “Night Of The Living Dead”. You know, the part where all of the Zombies stumbled toward some distant object, moaning something that sounded like “Mikey, Mikey”.
Directly across from the tire store on Main Street, is the Wreck Bar, where the parking area was dominated by bouncing beer tub girls and the West Coast Choppers display.
Beach Street, between the Harley shop and Main Street has become the motorcycle center of Daytona Beach with several blocks of retail shops starting with the Harley-Davidson dealership and continuing north with Carl’s Speed Shop, the Trike Shop, Arlen Ness Store and finally, up the block, to Euro Components.
We wandered from booth to shop for hours along Beach Street and then headed over to the Last Resort, where The Horse staff snatched-up residence, since the demise, earlier this year, of Will’s Honky Tonk on US1.
Due to the heavy presence of the “Man”, we had to be extra careful rolling down US1. Nearing the Last Resort, the cops segregated the traffic. Bikes rolled down the right lane only, and the left lane was designated for cars and through traffic. After maneuvering through this gauntlet we found a place to park and made our way in the front gates to face a throng of party animals tuning up for the “Old Skool” Chopper Show to be held the next day.
After negotiating the narrow pathways in the Resort, we came upon the trailer acting as the remote headquarters for the Horse Magazine crew. The usual suspects were present in one form of consciousness or another, Hammer, Geno, English Jim, Chicago Greaser, Hank, Crazy Horse and the famous Jose, were at least up right and walking.
Parked on the front sidewalk was the world’s longest chopper which was featured on the cover of The Horse a few issues back. With local-cop cooperation, the world’s longest chopper made a couple of passes up and down US1 (or so they tell me). I helped a rider with Shovelhead mechanical woes and missed the historic blast.
As the sun made its daily decent beyond the trees at the back of the Last Resort, the owners of the bikes in the chopper show waited for the arrival of the show judge, Billy Lane.
You would have thought it was Christmas Eve. Rumored Billy Lane sightings slipped through cracks in the saloon doors every 10 minutes. “I just saw Billy making the turn off of the Main Street Bridge, heading South,” an enthusiastic rider reported. Then, “Billy just passed the Port Orange Bridge.”
Finally Billy showed up and for the next hour weaved through the crowd and assembled scoots looking for the “one”. There were three trophies awarded from the stage, with the third place going to a clean little Crocker built by famed sculptor, Jeff Decker. To find out who the other winners were, you’ll have to wait to see the issue of Horse.
After the trophy presentation, I worked my way back to the parking area and headed north. I had a steak and a woman waiting in the region of Baltimore.
See ya next year.
