Ten years ago I took a bike trip to the Florida Keys. At the time, I was a very young 34 years old. I say young, because when you think you know it all and feel jaded and worldly, you're young, emotionally young. I think I grew up too fast. Trying to capture some of the spontaneous freedoms of childhood came at a cost in my 20s and 30s. True, I had some wonderful adventures, but without maturity, I could not appreciate them. So there I was, back then, riding alongside another woman. We were both single, no jobs waiting for us, only the road ahead and the adventures that waited.
Unlike now, 10 years ago, there weren't that many seasoned women riding Harleys, and most of the ones who were, rode alongside their husbands or boyfriends. So two women, packed up for three weeks, on the road, was very unusual. Plus we were in paradise! We were the talk of The Florida Keys. It was a once in a lifetime experience, that I was too immature to savor. I didn't truly appreciate each and every moment until years later.
My husband, Jim, and I hauled out six bikes. It was a mellow 2 1/2 day trip across the country. Only one tense moment happened on I-90 running across South Dakota.
“There's a cop coming up,” Jim said. Only it wasn't just one cop. It was whole pack. Years ago a sight like that woulda been a most nerve wracking experience. But here we were all respectable, no wants or warrants or anything to hide. Hell, every bike and the truck and trailer were registered AND insured. We still held our collective breath, eyes unblinking and locked on the road ahead. No problem.
It was a near perfect trip. The sky as we approached Rapid City was amazing and we watched, relieved, as a thunder storm dumped rain far off to the south of us.
Unlike last year, we held confirmed reservations at the Spearfish Holiday Inn. Last August we arrived in Sturgis, only to find our lodging down a long dusty gravel road. The shaky home was too tight to accommodate the five members of our crew. Jim likes to stick 'close to home' when at events. One of the best kept secrets at Sturgis is the 7 day 'bike show' at The Holiday Inn. Well, it's not really a bike show, but then again it is. With guests like Donnie Smith, Arlen Ness, Dave Perewitz, and countless other bike builders at the Black Hills Hamster Headquarters, just checking the parking lot can take an hour or two. Plus celebrity builders and such roll by on a revolving basis. You can hang out front having a drink with Cory Ness, or talking bobbers with Brian Klock, then listen to Jon Kosmoski as he raves over a stunning paint job.
We arrived in Spearfish Friday afternoon and within an hour I was on my gooseneck chopper, rolling down the interstate into Sturgis. The clutch felt odd, and by the time I ran into traffic, it was completely gone. No shifting at all. I'd driven old pickups without a clutch, revving up the motor and jamming it into gear, but would that work on this bike? Instead I shut it off, found first, and side-streeted my way over to Jay Lightnin's Wall of Death on Main St. I walked over to my buddy Sam Morgan's trailer and found she had a visitor. Indian Larry stopped in to pick up either a tool or a part. Larry pitched in and not only helped with the clutch problem but went over the whole bike, searching for prospective glitches.
I wasn't sure how to put it into words. That's why it took me so damn long to report in, on how wonderful my time in the Black Hills was. As I rode back to Spearfish on my beautifully clean shifting bike, I gazed at the soft rolling hills bathed in the golden light of sunset. That night I rode over the mountain passed the glittering lights of Deadwood into the twisting dark canyons to Jose's house in Lead. Jose is so, well, so very Jose. He pulled out this tiny, yet very bright, LED flashlight and carefully went over my new bike, and I mean he went over every minute detail. Checking and commenting on everything from how the switches were installed to Jim's tiny fabrication details that most people miss. This dude would be brutal judging bike shows.
“Yeah,” he said calmly in his very distinctive accent, “your bike is ok.”
The next day held a exceptional treat as I ran into Chica and saw his latest Discovery Bike. It was just wild. So many handmade touches. Chica and Johnny Chop outdid themselves on this creation.
What really blew me away was the blown glass oil tank. It amazes me that this bike lost in Miami a while back. Was there some kind of mass affliction affecting the viewer's eyesight? I just went nuts over the bike.
And who should show up but Jose, the Caribbean Custom Cycle's mastermind.
I love the riding and checking the newest cool bikes, but the best thing about Sturgis is running into friends. It's always a rush hanging with Goth Girl. The new paint job on her bike was laid out by Killer Paint and it took attention away from my machine, when I parked next to it. And I thought my flames were hot.
Nights at the Spearfish Holiday Inn were always interesting, to say the least. Jim Nasi had a very unusual carb mount on his latest bike. The carbs were up top and the intake came forward through the front of the tank. I also loved the bars on this bike.
Another wild ride was half a V8 bike from California. I hope to do a whole feature on this creation later on Bikernet, as soon as I can find the contact info (Darn painter's memory!). They build mostly hot rods and they are two of the nicest guys I met this year.
After dark Big Rick fired up his insane truck and lit up the place. His tractor trailer was, without a doubt, the most detailed big rig I've ever seen. He had a lighting system under the truck, and neon lights flashed in sequence. There was no end to the vehicle creativity, bikes, street rods, hummers, campers, you name it.
But the one item most discussed was the record setting cold. I watched the Weather Channel on the way out, and lows were predicted to be around 45 degrees in Rapid City. Seeing as how I sweat to death last year, I only brought one light leather jacket. So I called up our friend, Ben, back in Waxhaw and in typical girl fashion, gave him a list of stuff to ship to Spearfish. Yet, like last year, I was one of the few riders peeling out of Spearfish as everyone else rolled in. I know it's nuts to ride at night over the mountains to Deadwood, but I'm too hyper to sleep and so is Jose.
One of things I most look forward to are those late night bullshit sessions or cookouts at his house. It's so casual over there. You never know who you'll see or the stories you'll hear. Besides even with the extreme cold, it is stone cold beautiful riding at night as well as brutally dangerous.
I took it easy riding at night, carefully searching for the reflection of my bouncing headlight in critter's eyes, alongside the road. Then I saw headlights of bikes coming up on me, blasting by. Fast riders following were forced to shift lanes, irritated that a “rookie” rider like me, going slow, was forcing them to pass. I mean, why would a person, who knows how to ride, scoot over the mountain at a measly 45 mph? I've known numerous friends who smacked deer and barely survived. I read newspapers reports on and the number of riders injured by deer.
Anyhow, I don't think I could stop riding over Jose's at night. For me, it's as much a part of Sturgis as Mike Litchter's show at the Journey Museum.
As always, Mike's show was wonderful this year, but somehow it seemed extra special. So many cool bikes, a few built by friends of mine and then David Mann's paintings everywhere. Plus I got to spend sometime with a new friend, Indian Larry. True, he was one of the most talented bike builders on the planet, but for many others, myself included, the most captivating thing about Larry was his enthusiasm for life. He'd reached a point where everyday was a gift. There was a captivating spark in his eyes, as he'd talk and look around. He relished the miracle of life every hour, the splendor of a sunny day or the mystic beauty of a rainy afternoon. The hectic pace his life got to him at times, but he'd shake it off. In Sturgis he'd find refuge hanging at the Thrill Arena compound. Listening to him speak, his no nonsense philosophy, brought me a peace of mind. It cut through all the surface bullshit, the glitter and glam of what the custom bike world has become.
To write about my entire adventure would take up way too much space. I even, gasp, spent time with my husband! We rode Spearfish Canyon with a bunch of long choppers and that's one view I would have loved to grab a picture of, if I hadn't been so busy riding.
At the end of a long, wonderful week, it was time to go. Part of me was happy to be in the comfort of the truck heading out and back to Sturgis, but another part of me, looked on, in envy, as bikes packed down with tents and gear roared past, experiencing the spontaneous adventure of life on the two-wheeled Badlands roads.
I can only remember the good stuff and learn from the not so good. What I took away from Sturgis was knowing I truly lived in each and every moment there. And when the roller coaster of life takes the inevitable dip, I take a minute to think back, and I am in those hills again, comfortably tearing up the canyon twisties or rolling into the sunset. I can practically feel the sun on my face.
