Just a long month before Bikefest I rode our 5-Ball Factory Racer into Vegas on a screaming 115 degree day after a couple of long harried days on the road from Sturgis. I needed a stiff whiskey bad.
We encountered breakdowns, not with the bikes, one a Shovelhead, but with our trailer. This was something out of the Twilight Zone as we stood in the blistering desert. I said something about Plan B and we kept moving. My grandson and I switched off riding and driving the van.
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