Me, bare naked in Laughlin? No silly! So who was bare naked? The streets of Laughlin were bare naked!
Empty main drag during the Laughlin River Run. Friday night in front of the popular Hideout bar was quiet.
The main drag along the strip of casino’s in Laughlin used to be an event in itself. Crowds would line the sidewalks in lawn chairs to watch the bad ass machines cruise by. Boys offering Mardi gras beads for a glimpse of girls gone wild made the sidewalks nearly impassable.
Friday afternoon at the main intersection in front of the Tropicana Casino with barely a bike in sight.
Gone are the crowds, and the days of the Hells Angels ruling in front of the Flamingo are just a part of history. No evidence of any Mongols in the lobby of Harrah’s. In fact, not even a Hamster on a yellow bike anywhere in sight. Most casinos were still enforcing a “No Colors” code, and law enforcement was still over harassing rally goers.
Also missing in action due to the bad economy were the usually buzzing vendor areas in every casino parking lot. There were less than half the amount of vendors usually present, and only a handful of bike builders displaying their creations. Matt Hotch nabbed front center at the Aquarius, and even the top dog of the popular Biker Build Off series didn’t have much traffic in his booth. His one of a kind mastery is still appreciated by on lookers, but afforded by only a few.
In a time when the whole country is money challenged, you would like to think the town, the casinos, or the event promoters would offer some kind of incentive for bikers to continue attending this dwindling desert run. It took me half a dozen calls before I even found availability, and then the Golden Nugget stuck us for a three night minimum at $500. And upon arriving, VIP parking was another $50 per bike. Most of the buffets in town were charging $20-$25, and what is most ridiculous about all of that is that the day after we all leave, you can have that same room for $25 per night.
None the less, my boyfriend Mark Jordana and I set out on Thursday, despite the forecast of rain. Our three nights minimum was non refundable and we were determined to make the best of every minute of it. We did have a cold, wet, windy ride, but we arrived in time to get settled in and warm up in the Jacuzzi, pig out on a prime rib buffet, and walk the quiet lots.
Me & Mark stopping for a Subway sandwich in Barstow just before the rain hit.
We caught the last set of Aeromyth who were the house band in the Golden Nugget lot, and ended up staying through their last song. The lead singer was almost a dead ringer for my favorite luscious lipped rock star! He had his same highly energetic and flamboyant style. His comedic wit and flashy wardrobe changes kept the crowd entertained for three shows a night, all three nights, and we went back every night to watch him.
Steven Taylor of Aeromyth, a most entertaining tribute band.
Me and the lead singer of Aeromyth, whose name was actually Chris Vandahl, and who also had light blue eyes behind those Foster Grants.
Other bands in town included Cheap Trick and Three Dog Night. Back in the 70’s I was a huge fan of Three Dog Night, and thought that might be a great blast from the past to enjoy. But I shopped my new boyfriend until he dropped. We hit nearly every vendor on the strip, and by the end of the day, he had done enough walking for one day.
I shopped my boyfriend til he dropped onto the out door pool side beds at the Golden Nugget.
The Golden Nugget added beds, couches and lounge chairs all around the pool and Jacuzzi area over looking the river front. The hotel was so empty we virtually had the place to ourselves. So we watched the sun go down and I downloaded songs by Three Dog Night on YouTube. We watched and listened to Just an Old Fashioned Love Song, and Black and White in comfort and style!
As I listened to the great lyrics of that song, I got to thinking about the observations I had made walking around all day. There were a lot of women riders on the scene, and many of them introduced themselves to me and told me they enjoyed reading my columns. There were a lot of families walking with their children. There were a lot of black riders, and a tall, handsome black man told me he also read my writings. Christian Motorcyclists far out numbered any other kind of organized club riders in attendance.
A girl who introduced herself because she was inspired by my writings. Her father was killed on a motorcycle, and she is carrying out his passion in her love for the biker lifestyle, and she’s barely 18! Her uncle brought her to the rally, and she is learning to ride so that she can one day ride her father’s Harley!
Another observation I made was that many of the new t-shirt designs at all of the vendors had the cross as their logo. Between the Christian riding clubs and the shirts being sold and worn on the streets, it was an interesting overriding message at a bike rally.
Cross t-shirts for sale at every vendor booth.
Cross t-shirts worn at the rally.
After riding thru the rain and cold on Thursday, it was a warm welcome to have the rest of the weekend perfectly cloudless and 80 degrees. We enjoyed basking by the pool, river boat rides, and riding without helmets to the Ghost Town of Oatman, where we hooked up with my long time riding pal Gevin Fax. We walked the streets of the old mining town and re-read the history of some of the old buildings, some of which are believed to be haunted by friendly ghosts. Times have been tough on all of us, so Gevin and I tried to get in good with the local working girls in case we need jobs soon!
Gevin & I with the local working girls of Oatman.
As always we fed the resident donkeys bags of carrots. A pretty local shop employee educated me about the 17 donkeys that roam wild there thru the streets, just waiting for the tourists to arrive and supply them with their favorite treats. She told me I was feeding a very pregnant “April”, and that all of the donkeys in the pack were either pregnant females, or youngsters, and she knew them all by name. There is only one male in a pack, and if something happens to him, new males will come down from the hills to fight for possession of the herd. Not too long ago the male was killed by a car on the road, and the town watched as the new males aggressively fought for the open position. Now don’t all you boys just wish you were a donkey?
Ornery April waiting for her carrots.
We rode out the backside of Oatman and looped around on scenic Route 66 thru Kingman, stopping at vistas and Trading Posts.
Mark and Gevin over looking scenic Route 66.
Me & Gevin at a picture perfect view.
Missed riding to Oatman with my pal Kathy Hurwitz on her oh so cool new side car ride!
We spent our last night in front of the Pioneer, where an old carnival style of entertainment was proving popular. In all four corners of the lot you could find something to laugh and be amazed by. In corner one there was a “Wall of Death”, featuring the American Hellriders doing their daredevil stunts. In corner two was a mechanical bull where we watched moms, dads, kids, and sexy girls all taking their turns trying to master the art of bull riding.
I turned my head for one minute and some bimbo stole my boyfriend!
Cute young girl riding the mechanical bull.
Laughin in Laughlin.
In corner three was a Van Halen Tribute Band called ULT-imate, complete with bad wigs and 80’s tight stretchy pants! And in corner four was Ses Carny & Professor Chumley, two evil clowns that horrify you with their own self inflicted torture. In my head I was thinking, why would anybody watch this, as I was standing there watching it!
And they get you chanting Who kicks ass? Evil clowns kick ass! And as the words are leaving my own lips, I am laughing at how retarded it is. But none the less, we stayed and watched him eat fire, electrocute himself, push a foot long fat needle through one cheek and out the other, and then through his own forearm, in one side, and out the other. And if you can make it through the entire show with your fried food still in your stomach, you can actually show your appreciation by stapling dollar bills to Chumley’s stomach. Or, $20’s and up can be stapled to his forehead!
Professor Chumley eating fire.
After all of that we were walking back to our hotel and I was just shaking my head and reminiscing some of the Laughlin memories gone by. The event has endured many changes over the years but I wonder where the future of events like this will go. Aeromyth was just finishing their last set of the night so we stopped and listened to Dream Weaver one last time. And then the base player busted out a perfect lone Star Spangled Banner. I looked around at the tired, partied out old biker crowd still standing. Yet they roared when he got to the line For the Land of the Free, and the Home of the Brave.
It was a most appropriate end to a quiet but satisfying rally weekend. I still love being in the company of my fellow bikers who are proud to be Americans. Who above all cherish their freedom, and believe in our right to preserve it. We rode home in the California sun with big smiles and warm hearts.
Safely home sweet home!
