I flew in the night before the kick off of the 2010 Ultimate Builder Custom Bike Show in Detroit. The show was brilliantly displayed inside the Progressive International Motorcycle Show… a show within a show. That evening while watching the news I listened to the anchor of the local CBS affiliate talk about how the Mayor of Detroit was going to bulldoze 100,000 houses in 2011. I sat back and pondered the bleak snow-bound Detroit economy. If it was that lousy then maybe I shouldn’t expect much from the show.

Much to my surprise, the bikes looked tits. The fabrication, paint, and design that rolled into the auditorium was outstanding.

Even though the snow was slamming down hard and fast, builders started showing up at 9:00 a.m. on Friday morning. After the bikes cleared registration they were carefully positioned on wide red carpets at the entrance of the show.

If you are into custom bikes then the Ultimate Builder is the bike show to attend. Throughout the three-day show builders stood by their show customs talking about each creative build and giving pointers about how they do what they do so fine. In Detroit, we had over 30,000 enthusiasts checking out the wicked custom rides.

Gary Mauer‘s “No Reservation” won the FreeStyle class. The bike includes a rod of surgical steel from his partner Julie Giulford, which was installed in her leg after she hit a deer on her bike. Julie’s hit was so hard that she almost lost her leg. Gary said with pride that she is an accomplished rider and didn’t drop her bike after the accident.

Inspiration has a lot to do with what you see at a Custom Bike Show. Don Weimer, of Weimer Original Designs, built Revelation to honor his father and his Dad’s hillclimb roots. This bike sports a 1973 triumph 750 mill and is a combination of triumph, motocross, and hillclimb influence. Don pounded metal for 150 hours and produced an impressive gas tank for his effort. One-off handmade features included the front end and rear swingarm, triple tree/gooseneck combo, aluminum seat pan and tooled leather cover.

Steve Broyles of Stevenson’s Cycle brought “Deuce’s Wild” to the show in which he placed the front head and cylinder of a Shovelhead motor on the rear and the rear head and cylinder on the front. In doing so, Stevenson’s Cycle created one of the first reverse flow V-Twin engines. Steve said that the bike now sounds more like a hi-po Chevy engine with a few cylinders loped off instead of Harley. Deuce’s Wild took 3rd in the Freestyle class.

Baggers came out and took control in the Modified Harley Class as they placed four out of the top five spots. Huck Hemphill’s sled from Radical Baggers took the top spot with a smooth sled that boasted an asymmetrical paint job. It has been on the cover of HOT BIKE BAGGER/Sept 2010 and Thunder Roads Michigan May 2010.

The Detroit area King of Kustomizer, Ron Finch, made an appearance at the awards ceremony. Bob Kay, the Ultimate Builder MC, interviewed Fitch before the trophies were handed out. Bikernet carries all the builder interviews in Bikernet Studios. Check ’em out, and remember, all the winners from the Ultimate Builder Show Series are invited to the AMD World Championship Finals in Sturgis this August. Don’t miss the next show in Washington D.C. this coming weekend.

Results From Ultimate Builder Detroit

Freestyle Class
1. Gary Mauer, Kustom’s Inc. – No Reservation

2. Don Weimer, Weimer Original Designs – Revelation

3. Steve Broyles, Stevenson’s Cycle – Duce’s Wild

4. Chris Phillips, Doomtown Choppers

5. Don Weimer, Weimer Original Designs

Modified Harley
1. Huck Hemphill, Radical Baggers Inc.

2. Brian Ratkos, BRC Creations

3. Jerry Motz, Detroit Harley-Davidson

4. Jody Jendon, Reflections Polishing – Green Ambition

5. Ron Harris, Chop Doc Choppers

Performance Custom
1. Jody Jendon, Reflections Polishing

The 2011 Harley Davidson’s have been out for a while now, and being the roving reporter of Bikernet, I have been assigned with providing the test rides. I know it is a tough life, but someone has to live it, right? When I showed up at Republic Harley Davidson to pick up a demo bike, I was expecting to ride a hopped up Police Special. Unfortunately, the bike is still awaiting the dyno tune, so all the dealer had for me was a 2011 Ultra Classic Electra Glide. This bike, while sporting plenty of bells and whistles, was bone stock. Having ridden a bone-stock 2005 Electra Glide, I expected this bike to be a dog as the other had been. Holy crap was I wrong!

As soon as I sat on this bike, I new I was dealing with a big boy… this is a BIG BIKE. I was a little intimidated by the size and felt a bit uneasy pulling out of the parking lot due to the decline angled driveway followed by a feeder road that requires you to immediately accelerate to 50 mph to avoid being road grime.

The engineers at H-D must know what they’re doing, because as soon as I started rolling, this bike felt as easy to ride as any bike I had ever mounted. To be honest, this bike’s parking-lot maneuvering is much easier than the V-Rod I currently ride. The rake combined with the wide handlebars and foot position place the rider in the perfect position to handle the bike without ever having to try to “muscle” it.

Once on the road, I was quick to start playing with the radio and enjoy the tunes as I was getting ready to cruise. The radio surprised me with the level and clarity of the audio, I didn’t realize this bike has a feature that allows the radio’s volume to increase as you start riding. Pleasantly loud, I had no problems hearing this bike at any time on the road whether I was sitting in the middle of traffic or cruising the highway at triple digits, I could hear the radio clearly. I ride with a full face helmet, and found the radio was actually easier to hear while wearing a helmet than without due to the blocking of the wind noise.

The power of the stock 96 inch motor was incredible and I had no complaints about it or the 6 speed transmission. Cruising at 75 miles an hour in 4^th gear was surprisingly easy. This bike seems to just want to go, the direction doesn’t matter to it, just point the front tire and go.

The ergonomics between the rider and motorcycle combined with the amenities made this the most complete motorcycle I had ever ridden. I experienced all the positive emotions and feedback I have ever felt on any motorcycle before; I was just much more comfortable on this bike. The Ultra Classic is by far the most complete motorcycle I have ever ridden on and I can guarantee this; this bike WILL be my next motorcycle purchase. Anyone in the market for a used V-Rod?

Check Harley’s website for some options, pricing, and interesting facts and figures about their flagship motorcycle:

http://www.harley-davidson.com/en_US/Motorcycles/find-the-one.html?locale=en_US&bmLocale=en_US

The Ultra Classic® Electra Glide® sets the standard for long-haul touring comfort and convenience. Though many imitators sought to duplicate it, the Ultra Classic Electra Glide stands tall as a benchmark for touring enthusiasts. A four-speaker, 80-watt Harmon/Kardon® Advanced Audio System, one-piece, two-up Electra Glide® Classic comfort stitch seat with passenger backrest, adjustable fairing-mounted air deflectors, vented removable fairing lowers with integral glove boxes, spacious Tour-Pak® carrier and injection-molded hard saddlebags, and standard electronic cruise control, all combine comfort and function as styling touches that make it a Harley-Davidson.

MODEL HIGHLIGHTS

 NEW Security Package Option including factory-installed Harley-Davidson® Smart Security System with hands-free fob and Anti-lock Braking System (ABS)

NEW Sculpted seat for added comfort and easier straddling

NEW Paint color options and graphics

• Black powder-coated powertrain with chrome covers

• Chrome 2-1-2 dual exhaust with tapered mufflers

• Black, 28-spoke Cast Aluminum wheels with narrow whitewall tires

• Bat-wing, fork-mounted fairing with clear, Lexan® windshield

• Smoked Lexan® adjustable fairing-mounted air deflectors

• Vented removable lower fairings with integral storage compartments

• Mid-frame air deflectors

• Chrome, low-profile fuel tank console

• Deep FL front fender with trim

• Stainless steel, classic touring handlebar

• One-piece, two-up Electra Glide® classic comfort stitch seat

• Passenger backrest with wrap-around armrests

• Injection-molded hard saddlebags; 2.26 cu. ft. volume

• Injection Molded hard Tour-Pak® with soft luggage liners, storage pockets and wrap-around rear tail/brake lights; 2.26 cu. ft. volume

• Fairing-mounted electronic speedometer and tachometer plus fuel, voltage, oil pressure and ambient air temperature gauges

• 80-watt, four-speaker Harman/Kardon® Advanced Audio System with CD/MP3 player, and CB/Intercom

• LED rear fender tip light

• Auxiliary passing lights

KEY FEATURES

• Rubber-mounted Twin Cam 96™ V-Twin engine with Electronic Sequential Port Fuel Injection (ESPFI) with heated O2 sensors and Electronic Throttle Control (ETC)

• 6-Speed Cruise Drive® transmission with integrated Isolated Drive System (IDS)

• Dunlop® “Multi-Tread” rear tire construction extends tire life by 25 percent

• Brembo® 4-piston front and rear caliper with dual front rotor brake system

• Air-adjustable rear shocks

• Full-length rider footboards

• Height-adjustable passenger footboards

• Six-gallon fuel tank

• Optional electronic cruise control

• Optional Original Equipment Custom Color paint program

Spec Sheet courtesy of Harley Davidson.com

·                     1 Prices listed are the Manufacturer’s Suggested Retail Prices. Options such as color are available at additional cost. Prices exclude dealer setup, taxes, title and licensing and are subject to change. Dealer prices may vary.

·                     2 Measurement reflects 180 lb. (81.7 kg) operator weight.

·                     3 Recommended 91 octane or higher fuel (R+M)/2.

·                     4 Values shown are nominal. Performance may vary by country and region.

·                     5 Standard and optional fuel systems may vary by country.

·                     6 Estimated from fuel economy tests on a sample motorcycle from the corresponding family conducted by Harley-Davidson under ideal laboratory conditions. Not all motorcycle models undergo fuel economy testing. Fuel economy and mileage may vary among motorcycle models within a family. Your mileage may vary depending on your personal riding habits, weather conditions, trip length, vehicle condition and vehicle configuration and other conditions. Break-in mileage may vary.

·                     7 Standard and optional wheels may vary by country and region.

·                     8 North America security system includes immobilizer; outside North America the security system includes immobilizer and siren.

·                     9 See motorcycle owner’s manual for complete details.

Vehicles depicted may differ from vehicles manufactured and delivered. Specifications and prices listed may differ from specifications and prices of vehicles manufactured and delivered. All product descriptions (including depictions, specifications, dimensions, measurements, ratings and competitive comparisons) are based on available information at the time of publication. Although such descriptions are believed correct, errors and changes can occur and complete accuracy cannot be guaranteed. Harley-Davidson may make changes at any time to prices and specifications, and may change or discontinue models, without notice and without incurring any obligation. Attention: Vehicles in the configurations shown and many of the accessories described in this catalog may not be available for sale or use in some locations. Please check with your dealer for complete product details and the latest information. All models feature 6-speed transmission (VRSC™ models and Sportster® models are 5-speed) and carbon fiber belt final drive; multi-plate clutch with diaphragm spring in oil bath; and 2-year unlimited mileage warranty.

7th RVN OF ROME

              by Forum Rome Chapter

Text and photos: Ela Von Dutch

Like every year, the Forum Rome Chapter, headed by Eugenio Caliandro, organizes the Run of the capital. Real event that gathers thousands of Harley Davidson riders, belonging to the universe HOG (Harley Owners Group)

During this edition, we celebrate the seventh anniversary of the “Run” that is divided, as every year into two very cool events; the first one taking place on Friday and the second one on Saturday.

 
The kick start of the “Kermesse” will be given by the official Harley-Davidson dealership in Rome, located in Via Pontina.
Divided into groups, all participants coming from different Italian chapter will be heading to the “Domus Magnanimi, a charming restaurant near the monument of Cecilia Metella , an historical Roman tomb built in the 50 B.C on the path of “Via Appia Antica”.

 
At this stage everyone will need a short break to recover from dining in true Roman style, and focusing on the first party night by the  Montoya’s Bar on the banks of the river Tevere, the historic river that runs through the beautiful city ‘of Rome. Here’s all to the sound of music and Miss Roxy Roses’ Burlesque shows will charm the whole crowd, our friends will have fun till late at night. But before all that we need to start with the first sunset “Run” along the streets and monuments of the capital, with thousands of tourists and locals, who happily greet the many Harley present.

Saturday will be even more filled with events and friends coming from all over Italy.
After the morning warm welcome to newcomers, we will all jump on the bike heading to the city centre for a quick light lunch. All this to get your strength back for the final run! The whole city of Rome for about three hours will be flooded by a River of Harley-Davidson.

Escorted by police the 500 Harleys will go through the most beautiful streets of Rome and the historical monuments of our city. Exciting passing through at the Coliseum, with thousands of tourists and locals with a smile on their faces!

And again eternal places such as Trinita dei Monti, Piazza di Spagna, Altare della Patria, Via del Corso and Piazza San Pietro to warmly greet the pope at the sound of Big Twin made in Milwaukee!

This article is dedicated to the family and memory of Fabrizio Lorenzini and Daniele Uopi. Two special bikers and persons passed away but always in our hearts!

A special thanks to all Forum Rome Chapter
U rock guys!!!

  Thanks
  Ela Von Dutch

In memory of Danielle

For more information on these crazy Italians check their webpage here. Be sure to check their galleries as they have some amazing shots.

 http://www.forumromachapter.it/asp/index.asp
 
   

 
 
 

On to the review.

Put this book under the Yule tree for the enthusiast in your life, they will thank you for it!

Author: Dain Gingerelli
Photographer: Randy Leffingwell
Format: Paperback, 240 Pages
Item: 149687
ISBN: 9780760338940
Publisher: Motorbooks
Series: First Gear
Specs
Illustrations: 236 color photos
Size: 6.5 x 8.25
Edition: First
Published: October 14th 2010
Price: $19.99
In Stock

First let’s understand just what compression ratio means and how it affects the internal combustion engine. Compression ratio is simply the volume of the cylinder and the volume of the combustion chamber of the cylinder head when the piston is at Bottom Dead Center (BDC) and the volume of the cylinder head combustion chamber when the piston is at Top Dead Center (TDC). Let’s use a hypothetical engine to make things a little simpler. If we have an engine, at BDC that has a swept volume of 900cc in the cylinder and a combustion chamber volume of 100cc, then this volume is reduced to the 100cc of the combustion chamber at TDC this would be a compression ratio of 1000:100, or reducing it fractionally, a compression ratio of 10:1.

Compression ratios can be a double-edged sword in many ways. First, the higher the compression the more power the engine will make. This is due to being able to extract greater mechanical energy from a given amount of air/fuel mixture that is created by its higher thermal efficiency. Higher compression ratios place the molecular structure of the fuel and air into a smaller area, along with the adiabatic heat of the compression, which causes a greater evaporation and mixing of the fuel droplets in the combustion chamber.

High compression engines make great power, but it needs to be understood that engines with higher compression require fuel of higher octane and grade. Low octane, low grade fuels can cause severe and irreparable damage to an engine due to detonation. Detonation is caused when the fuel self-ignites under compression—not during the firing phase of the ignition system. Detonation can be the cause of connecting rod failures, piston failures, and more.

Just as high compression wants better fuel, the other side of the coin is running higher octane fuels in low compression engines. Running high octane fuel in a low compression engine is, well, throwing good money down a black hole. You are not going to make any more power than you would using the correct, lower octane fuel due to the fact that the lower compression engine just simply does not have enough compression to support the higher octane fuel. Running high octane fuels in a low compression engine is many times the reason riders bitch and complain about tuning issues of carburetors, ignition systems, etc. In many cases the only reason that the operator feels more power is due to the fact the he has spent more money so it must be working!

A simple rule to remember is that the lower the octane the faster the burn, and the higher the octane the slower the burn. This is why high compression engines like higher octane fuels because they burn slower and are not as prone to self-ignition, or detonation. The same rule applies to low compression engines liking lower octane fuels; lower compression engines do not have to work as hard to light the fuel mixture due to the lower octane fuel burning faster with out a lot of compression.

*RESOURCE
DELKRON Inc.
Bedford, Ohio
440-786-8820/866-335-5766
www.delkron-mfg.com

Story and Photos by Steve “Posie” Pfaff, Delkron

Click Here To Visit The J&P Cycles Website

All went well with his arrangement with Bill until 2007 and he was anxious to hook up with Bill in Sturgis or Daytona to pick up this 103-inch, kick-only Knucklehead. Sturgis slipped past, then Biketoberfest, and Randy was jonesing for his ride, so he grabbed a pal, Robert, and his two-week old Chevy 1-ton crew cab truck and hauled ass across the country.

Three bikes were strapped securely in the bed of his new pick-up. Ahead in the slippery weather, a sedan crossed the grassy medium and collided with an oncoming car, head on. The interstate was jammed with emergency vehicles as he slowed and a semi truck approached from the right lane. Then out of nowhere, another truck rear-ended Randy’s pickup at 70 mph. The truck driver in the next lane testified that the drunk driver, asleep at the wheel, never hit his brakes.

The tie-downs holding the bikes to the bed snapped and all three bikes shot against the flimsy gate of the bed, actually diminishing the impact on the cab. The airbags never deployed, so they were able to drive the crippled truck off the interstate and filed a report with the authorities. That night, they tried everything to find a drink to calm their nerves, but dry state laws kicked their butts and ultimately they limped home.

“The bikes were fine,” Randy said, although his trip partner broke both wrists, “but we were a mess. We just wanted a drink and a good night’s rest.”

That’s a serious work ethic. Hang on for more Randy projects in the near future.

–Bandit

Bikernet Extreme FrankenKnuckle Tech Chart

Owner: Randy Flores

City: Upland

State: Califa

Website: Alertsecuritysystems.com

E Mail: Randy@alertsecuritysystems.com

What kind of bike?

Make: Blings Cycles

Year: 2007

Model: FrankenKnuckle

Type: Dirt Bike

Fabrication: Bling’s Cycles

Time: 4 months

Assembly: Blings Cycles

Assembler: Bill Dodge

Value: Don’t Ask

Clutch: Hydraulic

ENGINE:

Type: Accurate Engineering / Knucklehead

Displacement: 103

Year: 2007

Horsepower: Not Enough

Heads: Flathead Power and Branch O’Keefe

Valves: Same

Pistons: J&E

Cylinders: Same

Camshaft: Same

Lifters: JIMS

Pushrods: JIMS

Carburetor/Injection: S&S Super E

Air Cleaner: Blings Stack

Transmission: Baker Six Into Four “Franken Tranny” (Their first one)

Ignition: Morris Magneto

Exhaust: Blings Cycles

Mufflers: Nope

Finish: Jet-Coat Flat Black

Frame:

Type: Bling’s Rigid Frame

Year: 2007

Builder: Bling’s

Stretch: None

Rake: 35 Degrees

Swing Arm: Nope

Shocks: None

Modifications: Yep

Forks:

Type: Blings Cycles

Year: 2007

Builder: Blings Cycles

Finish: Black

Triple Trees: Narrow Glide

Wheels

Front:

Rim: Honda Elsinore / Blings

Size: 23 x 1.75

Hub: Blings

Finish: Black

Fender: None

Tire: Bridgestone

Brake: None

Rear:

Rim: Found In The Back of The Shop

Size: 18 x 5.5

Brake: Brembo

Finish: Black

Fender: A Gift From My Son

Tire: Metzler

Small shit:

Handlebars: Pro Taper

Risers: Todd’s Cycles

Headlights: Hella

Taillights: F-U

Turn Signals F/R: None

Speedometer: Nope

Tachometer: Nope

Gauges: None

Seat: Blings Stainless

Oil Tank: Blings

Fuel Tank(s): Wassell Modified By Blings

Primary: Evil Engineering

Hand Controls: Brembo GP With Hand Control Rear Brake

Foot Controls: Mid Controls / Blings Cycles

Paint, Chrome, and other F/X’s:

Colors: Blingelberry Blue

Type: House of Kolors

Special Paint: Low Rider Panels

The Painter: French Kiss Kustoms

Chrome: None

Color: Black

THE AIM/NCOM MOTORCYCLE E-NEWS SERVICE is brought to you by Aid to Injured Motorcyclists (A.I.M.) and the National Coalition of Motorcyclists (NCOM), and is sponsored by the Law Offices of Richard M. Lester. If you’ve been involved in any kind of accident, call us at 1-(800) ON-A-BIKE or visit www.ON-A-BIKE.com .

NCOM BIKER NEWSBYTES
Compiled & Edited by Bill Bish,
National Coalition of Motorcyclists (NCOM)

FEDS PUSH HELMET LAWS AND MOTORCYCLE-ONLY ROADBLOCKS
The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA) is seeking applications from law enforcement agencies across the country to conduct federally-funded motorcycle-only roadside checkpoints.

Now mirrored in other states, “Motorcycle-Only Safety Checkpoints” were initiated in New York last year and are set up during large motorcycle rallies or near large biker gathering spots to check not only license, registration and insurance, but also for DOT-compliant helmets and legal exhaust systems. ABATE of New York is working with NY A.I.M. (Aid to Injured Motorcyclists) attorney Mitch Proner on legal actions to halt these discriminatory roadblocks in the Empire State.

But police forces across the country may soon receive public funds to target motorcyclists, though U.S. Reps F. James Sensenbrenner, Jr. (R-WI) and Tom Petri (R-WI) along with several colleagues in Congress have written to Transportation Secretary Ray LaHood asking him to suspend funding of the federal grants for the NHTSA checkpoint program.

In addition, after learning that NHTSA recently testified to the Senate Committee on Commerce Science and Transportation that “The most important step we could take would be to assure that all riders wear a DOT-compliant helmet,” according to NHTSA Administrator David Strickland, who added “NHTSA will actively work with Congress to promote helmet use,” Congressman Sensenbrenner and fellow Congressional lawmakers have also introduced H. Res. 1498 which “supports efforts to retain the ban on the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration’s ability to lobby state legislatures using federal tax dollars and urges NHTSA to focus on crash prevention and rider education.”

The US Defenders have joined with other state and national motorcycle groups in urging riders to contact their Congress members to support H. Res. 1498, and to write DOT & NHTSA to oppose federally-funded motorcycle-only safety checks. “This is one more piece of evidence of the constant profiling attempts targeting our community at large,” said Escondido Paul, National Lt. Commander of the US Defenders, in issuing a nationwide Call To Action through all Confederations of Clubs and coalitions in every state. For further information, consult www.USDefenders.org .

BLACK MOTORCYCLISTS AT HIGHER RISK
African-American motorcyclists are more likely than others to die in crashes, even though they are more likely to wear a helmet, according to a study done to determine if race had anything to do with motorcycle crash mortality; and the results stood out in black and white.

Researchers at The Johns Hopkins Medical Institutions analyzed statistics from the National Trauma Data Bank of 68,840 people involved in motorcycle crashes from 2002-2006, and found that black motorcycle crash victims were 1.5 times more likely to die than similarly injured white riders.

The findings do not help support the push for helmet laws since African-Americans mortality rates were still 50% higher even though they were 30% more likely to wear a helmet; although the highest mortality rates are among African-American motorcyclists without helmets. Whites who weren’t wearing helmets were less likely to be killed in crashes than blacks who wore protective headgear.

The study, published in the American Journal of Surgery, raises questions about the efficacy of injury prevention strategies such as state helmet laws that may not be protecting all riders equally.

“For reasons that we are still trying to figure out, one size of injury prevention does not fit all groups of people and just wearing a helmet is not enough,” senior author Dr. Adil Haider says in a statement. “Helmet for helmet, African-Americans have more lethal injuries.”

Haider suspects several factors — such as lack of health insurance, reduced access to healthcare, poorer quality of care and a greater number of pre-existing illnesses/injuries — may be combining to account for the survival gap.

It is possible, he says, riders of different races may prefer different types of helmets or style of motorcycles, suggesting that more research is needed.

MOTORCYCLE FATALITIES PLUMMET IN 2009
It’s not surprising when accident rates increase in proportion to increased usage and number of miles traveled, but last year motorcyclist fatalities decreased more than any other category of road users despite more motorcycles being ridden more miles!

The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration’s Fatality Analysis Reporting System reports that 4,462 riders died in 2009, 850 fewer than in the previous year, representing a 16% drop in fatalities despite a 5% increase in miles traveled and 4.5% increase in the number of motorcycles on the road. The Motorcycle Industry Council recorded half a million more motorcycles in use in 2009, up from 11 million in 2008, and according to the MIC 2009 Motorcycle Owner Survey, they were ridden 1.3 billion more miles.

There was also a decrease in motorcycle accident injuries, down 6.3% from 96,000 in 2008 to 90,000 last year.

Overall U.S. traffic fatalities hit the lowest level ever recorded, since 1950 when the government began tracking such statistics, and the 33,808 road deaths in 2009 was down 9.7% from the year before. All traffic accidents, fatal or not, declined by 5.3% between 2008 and 2009, though motor vehicle crashes are still the leading cause of death for those between the ages of 3 and 34, NHTSA said.

CALIFORNIA ENACTS ANTI-MOTORCYCLE NOISE LAW
Motorcycle-riding California Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger has put his stamp of approval on a controversial law aimed at cracking down on motorcyclists who replace stock exhaust systems with aftermarket pipes that don’t comply with federal EPA noise and emissions standards.

Under SB 435 by State Senator Fran Pavley (D-Agoura Hills), the Motorcycle Anti-Tampering Act makes it illegal for motorcyclists to remove and replace federally required emissions equipment, and motorcycles manufactured after January 1, 2013 will be required to display a readily visible and unalterable label stamped into the pipes that indicates that they meet federal standards. Bikers will still be able to install aftermarket exhausts, but for bikes built after 2013 the replacement parts must be EPA-certified and permanently stamped.

Similar anti-noise laws have been enacted recently in Boston and Denver.

Illegal tampering with emissions systems in California will be a secondary violation, meaning that motorcyclists would have to first be pulled over for some other infraction before officers could inspect for the presence of the EPA stamp and issue a citation. First time offenders could face up to $100 fine, but it will be considered a “fix-it” ticket and proof of repair would get the violation dismissed, though subsequent infractions could result in fines of up to $250.

Pavley’s original bill sought to include motorcycles in the state’s SMOG emissions testing program, but after being stymied by intense lobbying by state and national motorcyclists rights organizations, she later reintroduced the measure to instead force motorcycles into compliance with existing federally-mandated sound and air pollution levels.

US SUPREME COURT TO RULE ON PROTESTS AT MILITARY FUNERALS
A group of patriotic motorcyclists recently staged a counter-demonstration during the Arlington National Cemetery burial of a local Navy SEAL, parking motorcycles and revving engines to oppose a protest staged by members of the fundamentalist Westboro Baptist Church of Kansas.

Similar scenes play out across America, as a grieving family lays their loved one to rest, the funeral of a service member killed in action is disrupted by vocal protesters shouting vindictive and incendiary remarks at mourners and wave signs that read “Thank God for Dead Soldiers” and “God Hates the USA”.

The motorcyclists, mostly veterans who are members of the Patriot Guard Riders, led the funeral procession and then strategically parked their bikes in between the family and the protesters and revved up their engines to drown their chanting, and saluted in respect as the funeral cortege passed by giving them a thumbs up.

The church protesters, who contend that God is killing members of the military because of the nation’s sins, often demonstrate at military funerals, and are now the subjects of a United States Supreme Court case that will decide if the Constitution protects highly offensive hate speech from civil claims filed by grieving relatives.

In Snyder v. Phelps, the father of a Marine killed in Iraq in 2006 was awarded $5 million in his lawsuit against the church for “intentional infliction of emotional distress”, but a federal appeals court overturned the ruling on free speech grounds, and now Albert Snyder is asking the High Court to reinstate the verdict.

Justices heard oral arguments in the case on October 6th and the Supreme Court is expected to render a decision late next Spring.

ALL-TERRAIN VEHICLES MORE DEADLY THAN MOTORCYCLES
If you think 3 or even 4 wheels are safer than 2, research suggests you think again as more people die after ATV accidents than after motorcycle accidents.

According to trauma surgeons and public health researchers in a presentation during the annual meeting of the American College of Surgeons, even when the severity of injuries was the same, the patients who had been riding ATVs were 50% more likely to die, and 50% more likely to need treatment in an intensive care unit and mechanical ventilation, compared to the motorcycle riders.

Researchers gathered information from a national trauma bank on nearly 60,000 accidents that occurred between 2002 and 2006 (13,749 from off-road motorcycle riding and 44,509 from ATV mishaps). There are somewhere between 800 and 900 deaths due to ATV accidents each year, according to ATVSafety.gov, a government web site.

Dr. Adil Haider, a surgeon from the Johns Hopkins Center for Surgery Trials and Outcomes Research in Baltimore, Maryland, who headed the study, said he and his colleagues don’t know yet why the ATV riders are more at risk than the motorcyclists.

“We think there are much more energy transfers when an ATV turns over, but we can’t tell whether that is because of the stability of the vehicle or the weight of the vehicle as it rolls over on a rider,” he said in a statement prepared before the presentation.

YEMEN BANS MOTORCYCLES DUE TO TERRORISM THREAT
Riding a motorcycle is a popular pastime in Yemen, but fearing al-Qaida assassins on wheels authorities in Yemen’s Abyan Governorate, a growing terrorist stronghold in the Arabian Peninsula, have banned motorcycles from cities in the region’s urban centers.

“Using motorbikes in terrorist operations to assassinate intelligence officers and security personnel have been massively mounted over the past nine months in the province,” a Yemeni Interior Ministry official told the Xinhua news agency following a series of assassinations by al-Qaida militants throughout Abyan and will affect some 5,000 two-wheeled vehicles.

“Motorcycles are typically used by terrorists and insurgents to deliver weapons directly if it’s a suicide attack or to make a quick getaway,” Dr Theodore Karasik, Director for Research and Development at the Institute for Near East Gulf Military Analysis told The Media Line. “The banning of motorcycles is indicative of how the government, with help from US officers, is trying to cut down on the movements of al-Qaida members and tribal members who support them.”

But while the Yemeni government has shown some concern over al-Qaida’s presence in the country, this is a relatively recent development seen by many as a ploy to please the United States.

QUOTABLE QUOTE: “The world is run by those who show up.”
– Anonymous

Author’s Note: One critical item would have made this trip better, my brother Steve riding along. I’m writing this account, so my brother Steve can vicariously experience the Badlands run. We planned on rolling out together, but his health didn’t hold up, due to his being sprayed with agent orange in Nam. The V.A. says he didn’t get sprayed because he was a “blue water sailor” and they don’t recognize blue water sailors as potential victims of drifting Agent Orange.

The sailors on Steve’s ship were forced to scrub Agent Orange off the equipment whenever it got on the ship after coastline patrols because of potential damage to equipment, and it cost money, right? Eighteen and nineteen year old sailors on the other hand were easy to come by. He has nerve damage and can’t even walk, but they won’t even classify him as disabled. We both signed up for four years in Aug. of 1965, and that’s the thanks he gets for joining during the Nam war. He’s still a patriot, but he’s a pissed off and disappointed one.

I wish he could have gone along on our Sturgis run. We rode together since he was 14 and I was 15. We would bomb along together on our old Simplex we saved $75.00 to buy. We later rode Hondas, popular in the ’60s. We rode friends’ Vespas, motorbikes and Cushmans. Whatever had two wheels and a motor we rode if we could. All along we dreamed of one day owning a Harley or Indian. We finally both bought Harleys after we returned from the Navy and we rode together whenever we could. We can’t do that anymore, so now I ride for both of us.

I have decided to write this account of our trip as though someone was sitting across from me on my patio having a beer and they just made the mistake of asking me how the trip went. I will blab on and on uninterrupted till the glorious end of the tale. It has taken me 63 years to get my ass to Sturgis,so I decided to keep a journal along the way. I knew that, at my age, I’d forget most of the places and people we met and saw along the way. This way I can relive it over and over, if I never manage to pull this kind of trip off again. As you know, tomorrow is not certain for any of us, so we must strive to enjoy today. Here goes.

Rick and I are two old dudes from California. He’s 57 and I’m 63. We both work at the same place, a manufacturing plant in Stockton, California. He oversees the trucking and I oversee the rest of it. The business got along just fine while both of us were gone, so we figure, if we want to keep our jobs, we shouldn’t leave again and remind them of how well they can get along without us.

Rick looks and sounds like a one percenter, but he’s not. He rides a 2007 Harley Road King with no windshield, a big ass engine, with loud pipes’ and 20-inch apes. I look like somebody’s grandpa, but I’m not. I ride a 2006 Road King with a windshield, big fat Mustang seat for my skinny ass, and a removable tour pack for my wife to lean back on. Rick and I both love to ride and we both wanted to see Sturgis at least once.

8:30 AM DEPARTURE, AUGUST 5TH

In the days preceding our departure, we were like two kids waiting for Christmas. The days leading up to our planned departure drug on like pouring frozen honey. We kept busy with planning and preparations and the last week finally here. We’d gotten our bikes all serviced and in my case, I put together a list of items, which I thought would be necessary. It was a good thing I did, because somehow I still ended up packing last-minute, the night before, and I needed the list to remind me. It was just like college again, cramming the night before a big test.

Finally, D-Day (departure day), Thursday, August 5th

I packed a few last minute items and rode over to Rick’s house to meet up. He called me before I left and told me that he was going to go over to Eagle’s Nest Harley-Davidson in Lathrop to gripe about his faulty cigarette lighter he paid them to install. We wanted to be capable of charging our phones along the way. He would go over there and give them “what-for,” while I rode to his house. They flicked on the auxiliary switch, which activated the power and he sheepishly said, “never mind,” or something of that nature and got the heck out of there.

I left home around 8:00 AM and that put me at Rick’s place about 8:30. We asked his roommate to take our photo and then we departed for our first Sturgis run.

We headed up highway 80 to Donner Summit where we got gas and ate some munchies. It would be the first Diet Pepsi of Rick’s mandatory 12 per day. I didn’t know it at this point, but I would soon discover that humans can exist without ever consuming water. Who knew??

We stopped at Donner Summit for a quick photo and then cut off of Hwy. 80 onto Hwy 89 toward Truckee and on to Susanville where we would start north on Hwy 395. That was a real nice stretch of road with a lot of terrific scenery along the way.

Somewhere along the route to Oregon, we met up with a county worker in one of the rest stops. She asked where we were going and we told her to Sturgis, at which point she let us know that several other bikers had passed by earlier.

“I hate those guys,” she said, “and I told ’em so. They’re getting to make the run to the Badlands and I’m forced to work.” In fact, she told one of them that she hated one the most because she could fit on his bike. She told us of a shortcut, so we thanked her and peeled out. There were several dry lakes along the way. Just dust and alkali with winds kicking
up minor dust devils. The danced on the lake beds below us.

We pushed on into Oregon heading for Lakeview where we would spend the night. When we rolled into the old town we asked a local yokel for a restaurant recommendation. She told us to try the Roadhouse down the road. We strolled in and tending the bar was a total fox. She was all tattooed up, but on her it was just right. She had on skimpy shorts, tall leather boots and a tight top. I really blew it by not taking her photo, but I was in a daze mystified by her succulent cleavage.

I have multiple pictures of Rick and me gazing thoughtfully at the horizon, but not one photo of this beautiful bartender. She was completely out of place in this hick town bar. She could be pulling down big money and serious tips in Vegas or Miami or L.A. but no….she’s in this dump in Lakeview. The food sucked and this beauty of a bartender made Rick the worst Bloody Mary either of us had ever tasted. Maybe she should stay in Lakeview till she refines her drink recipes.

During our meal, a drunk kept pestering the bartender and other folks. He was asked to leave a couple of times. We just ignored him and finished our meal. When we got ready to cut a dusty trail, I heard a voice, “When did bikers turn into pussies?”

I turned around and sure enough, it was the swaying drunk from the bar. I asked him what he said and he repeated himself. I asked if he was trying to get his ass kicked and he said he was just admiring our bikes.

I told him that his opening comment was the wrong way to compliment our bikes and that he should just get out of there before I beat his ass.

He stepped up to me, too close, and said, “You want to throw down?”

“Yep,” I said, gave him a solid shove, cocked my fist back. “Last chance pal.”

“Forget him Gary. He’s not worth getting arrested over,” Rick said.

“Stay outta this you sonuvabitch,” the drunk muttered and Rick jumped into the middle of the action. The guy looking to get his ass handed to him, finally noodled it through and left. He was too inebriated to defend himself. It would probably have been like beating up a kid.

After a crappy meal, an obnoxious drunk guy and a long ride, we went looking for a place to sleep. We were informed by the local motel front desk clerk they were full up, but we could find a room back the way we rolled into town. So, off we went to find the Red Rock Inn. We found it and you can bet this place had vacancies. It was way over priced at $67.00 a night. There was no soap, one towel, an air conditioner that rattled like blender fulla rocks, without producing much cool air and two of the shittiest beds and mattresses ever made. The only air came from under the front door where you could see people’s feet as they walked by. I guess it was a good security, ’cause we knew if we had company about to knock on your door since their boot tips stuck under the door. Also, that door allowed the roaches and rodents a way out once they came in and
discovered what a dump the place THE RED ROCK INN, LAKEVIEW, OR.
was. We fell to sleep out of sheer
exhaustion and I slept surprisingly
well. So much for our first day on
the road.

Day 2, Friday, August 6th, 2010.

We woke up refreshed, and anxious to hit the road. We laughed about our previous evening which seemed like a surreal dream. I rapidly realized it was my brother’s birthday and wished he was with us. We quickly headed into a nice little restaurant for breakfast. Before we walked in, I offered Rick some of my sunscreen. He proceeds to rub about a quart of it into his eyes, which immediately start running and turning some sick color of blazing red.

We get seated at our table, and Rick is really starting to feel the full effect of the anti-vision, torture cream which he has just applied to his unsuspecting eyeballs. The waitress comes over wondering why Rick is crying. She thinks maybe he is hurt or someone has just died but no….it’s just a terminal case of carelessly applied sunscreen. Rick tells her he’s not crying, he just put sunscreen in his eyes. She wonders why would you do that? She asks if we would like her to confiscate the sunscreen, so Rick can’t hurt himself anymore. Rick laughed even though he was in pain, and she and I could not stop laughing either. It was somehow pathetically funny. She kept bringing him napkins for his eyes. Rick mentioned that he looked like the Charmin bear with all the toilet paper scraps stuck to his butt only with Rick, it was scraps of napkin all over his face and eyes. He damn near ruined my appetite.

After breakfast, we headed out of town on our way north. We rode through some very dry and hot country to the intersection of Hwy. 395 and Hwy. 20, where the small town of Riley, Oregon was situated. By small, I mean population three people. Can that really be true? We saw one girl running the store and two across the street at the post office. That’s three by my count, but we never really determined if they were the three residents, or if they commute to the metropolis of Riley for work. It turns out that the town was for sale. We didn’t ask how much they wanted for the place, but I wish I asked just for curiosity’s sake. The post office came complete with a barbeque out front. After drinking some water (Diet Pepsi for Rick of course) and eating some more junk food, we finally headed west toward Idaho.

The scenery started to improve as we neared Idaho. We rode all the way to Mountain Home, Idaho where we grabbed a nice room at the Best Western. Right next door was a terrific place to eat, buffet style. We ate supper and called it a day.

Day 3, Saturday, Aug. 7th.

We ate breakfast, once again at the buffet, before taking off around 8:00 AM toward Idaho Falls. Highway 20 to Idaho Falls is just a beautiful road with fertile valleys and many historic sites along the route. I stoppe at a lot of the historic pullovers.

“We’re never going to get anywhere if we stop every five minutes,” Rick said.

We stopped at one site, which was where the emigrants first saw some granite boulders and a second stop where this fellow, Tim Goodale, discovered a cutoff to avoid the hostile Indians to the south. He took 820 emigrants, 338 wagons, and 1,400 head of livestock to safety across this cutoff to the Oregon Trail. This seemed damn significant to me. If I had done it, it sure as hell would have been. Still, I decided maybe Rick was right about all these stops. The last two didn’t seem tremendously historic as far as old sites go, so we blew past the next one. As we fly by, I noticed the plaque read, “Site of the historic Bannock Indian War.” Now, that sounded historic. It even had the word historic on the plaque. Damn, I wish we could go back and read that one. I vowed to look it up later.

NOTE: I did look it up, and it was the usual story of broken promises to the American Indians. This one coming to a head in the summer of 1878 when the Indians began to leave the reservation after suffering from a lack of rations and supplies during the winter and lack of help from their government agent. The Bannocks sought allies among the Paiutes. Even though they knew the hopelessness of war, they preferred to fight rather than starve to death. According to the Burns Paiute Tribe account that I found on the internet, the Bannock Indian War consisted of few actual battles but a resurgence of raiding by the Indians and killing of Indians by the whites. The Umatilla Indians actually betrayed the Paiutes and led them into an ambush. Chief Egan was killed and with the last of their leaders dead, the Bannocks and the Paiutes surrendered.

Actually, the white settlers had (innocently, in their minds) grazed their sheep and hogs on the land where the Indians normally harvested their main food source. Their animals ate most of the Indians’ main source of food, the camas tubers, and this actually set the stage for the famine which followed and the war which followed the famine. The northern Paiutes had numbered 2,000 ten years previous to this mess and at the end they had lost two thirds of their people. Sad fuckin’ story as it turned out. So, that’s the spot where we blew past on our bikes.

Our next stop was at the Craters of the Moon National Monument and Preserve. We were cruising along adjacent to these plain looking fields, and all of a sudden we came to an area that looked like it burst open and blew lava all over. This was high desert country at around 5,900 feet. This was also fresh lava; not Hawaii fresh, but maybe 2,000 years old and it came from a fissure not a volcano. So around the time Jesus was alive this place split open and spewed lava. It was awesome.

While we were there, Rick and I met a guy traveling with his wife and daughter. I complimented his cool opportunity to take a motorcycle trip with his wife and daughter, who were also riding their own bikes. He was oblivious to my comment. All he talked about was incessant waiting for them everywhere.

“We get up in the morning”, he said, “and 30 minutes later I’m ready to go. But can they get ready??? NOOO!! Why can’t they just put their clothes on, eat, and get on the bikes and ride??” He continued to complain, “I think I’m going to snap soon.”

During this whole rant his wife and daughter enjoyed the lava fields, used the bathroom, read field guides and in general, had a jolly good time. We wished him the best and moved on.

Our next stop was Idaho Falls. We have been stopping in every state since we left home looking for Rick’s diabetes medicine. They didn’t have it in California or Oregon, so when we pulled into Idaho Falls. We stopped at the first Walgreens we came upon. Lo and behold, they had the correct medicine. They measured it out, brought it to the counter and took Rick’s insurance card to close the deal. But no! His damn insurance didn’t cover this particular drug. The cost of this medicine was a million dollars…not really; but some similarly outrageous price, so Rick decided to roll without. So, here we are; me and a diabetic who hasn’t taken his medicine in two days, riding 400 to 500 miles a day in 90 degree weather and drinking enough Diet Pepsi to float a boat. What could possibly go wrong there? As it turns out, he can go longer without diabetes medicine than he can without Pepsi. Without Diet Pepsi he gets headaches, but without diabetes medicine he just hallucinates. No problem!

We moved down the road and bought some food at Arby’s and while there, we met a guy who was missing a leg from a motorcycle accident. After paying for our food we went looking for the actual Idaho Falls.

I motioned for the SUV next to us at the light to roll down the window, so I could ask for directions. A beautiful girl was driving and her boyfriend was riding along. They began to give us conflicting directions, and just as the light was changing, the girl said to follow her and she would lead us right to the highway. She did just that, and we were on our way to Wyoming.

The scenery at this point just continued to get better and better as we neared the border of Wyoming and Idaho. The area by the border is a real gathering point for rafters and kayakers. We watched a non-stop parade of rafts coming by us on the Snake River below our lookout point. It was really one of the most scenic of all the places on our ride.

We continued on toward Jackson Hole, Wyoming and as we entered the town it soon became apparent that we had made a big mistake. Prior to this time, we just pulled into any town and found rooms to stay in with no problem. That’s a fine way to go about it, if you are in Lakeview, Ore. or Mountain Home, Idaho. Even though those are cool destinations places, no one is beating a path to those locales. Jackson is a different story altogether. The place was packed with cars and humans. It looked like half the New York City population was crammed in there.

We pulled into the Motel 6 thinking that it should be cheap and vacant. They were full and also wanted around $280.00 a night. As we looked around, we began to realize that there wasn’t a square foot of vacant space in the entire valley.

The lady at the counter said, “You can ride up the mountain about 15 miles and there is a campground somewhere up there where you should be able to stay.”

We rode about 20 miles and found nothing but the Teton wilderness and steep highways. We finally gave up and returned down the mountain. We stopped at a store and asked the clerk if he knew of any place where we might camp. He sent us on another goose chase. We drove around for another half hour or so and realized that it was getting dark quickly and that we had better come up with a solution soon or we would be riding back and forth on the streets all night.

We remembered a level looking pull out on the side of the mountain that we had just recently been on when we were looking for the non-existent camp ground. We took off back up the Teton Mountains in search of this last resort sleeping site. We rode about 15 miles up the mountain and pulled in off of the highway about 200 feet and sure enough, this place was level. It was a small gravel area back from the road with a small ravine which had a creek running through it. It wasn’t the best, but it was workable so we parked our bikes about 5 feet apart and proceeded to put a tarp on the ground between our bikes for our bags and tied a tarp to the handlebars to create a cover over our heads. Home sweet home!

The temperature dropped like a rock in a calm lake, and it was now dark so we made up our sleeping area as best we could. It wasn’t much, but it was good enough. Around 2:00 a.m. I woke up and pushed back the overhead tarp to get a look at the stars. I was very happy to see that unlike most of California, where we have so much ambient light from the cities, we could see stars like an astronaut flying above the clouds. It was incredible.

Rick woke up and asked what the hell I was doing, so I told him I was watching the stars and looking for meteors. He said he hadn’t seen a meteor since forever. I told him that if he just kept looking at the sky he would see one. Just then, a meteor, like a ball of fire with a tail, streaked across the sky. This wasn’t some little speck that was gone in a flash. No, this was a spectacular, wide meteor, basketball size, leaving a long blazing trail behind it. It covered a big portion of our panorama of the night sky.

The ground was gravely and hard and Rick slept poorly because he had no padding at all. I had my wife’s ¼-inch thick exercise pad, so I was in relatively comfort compared to Rick.

When we awoke, Rick couldn’t find his teeth. He finally located them in the gravel by his sleeping bag. He jammed them into his mouth and grabbed his first Diet Pepsi of the day. Great way to start the day.

We took photos of our sleeping area so we could brag about how rough we had it that night, but it doesn’t do justice to the way it really looked. From the road and the cars passing by all night, it must have looked like a crime scene, where someone gunned down two fully clothed bikers. Two bodies just lying in their leathers beside their motorcycles on the side of the mountain and in a most unlikely place. Fortunately, no one bothered us. Who the hell would want to pull in and investigate that sight anyway? We both had on all of our leathers, chaps, coats, gloves, you name it. It was so cold that we needed everything just to keep warm. Rick had a real sleeping bag but I had only brought along a thin little pretend sleeping bag. It actually was a good night for me, but Rick is bigger and had no pad so he grumbled for a few days after that.

Hey, it’s those moments that you look back on later that add spice to the trip. That and the shitty room in Lakeview added gutsy flavor to our tale. What’s adventuresome about reading about sleeping in a well-kept, clean, comfortable room? That’s like reading a goddamn motel brochure.

Day 4, Sunday, August 8th.

We broke camp quickly and headed down the mountain to grab some food. We went to the McDonald’s and snatched breakfast sandwiches. I discovered that I like bacon, egg and cheese biscuits for breakfast as much as anything else, plus it was quick and cheap and there were bathrooms we could use. What more do you need?

With breakfast handled, we headed for “Jellystone Park” since Rick had never seen it before. When we got there, we discovered even more people than in Jackson. The other half of the New York City population was in line. How is that even possible? There was barely room for the wildlife. It was a “DisneyLand-Like” experience, long lines, bad food, and full parking lots: in short, there were just too many people.

We did get to see some wildlife on the way out. We saw a grizzly bear right by the road and several elk and deer, plus a buffalo just strolling leisurely down the road without a care in the world about the cars coming past him. That aspect of the trip was cool.

I also encountered a 57-year-old fellow named Ray Brown from Eugene, Oregon, who was pushing a cart festooned with American flags. I told Rick that I had to go back and talk with him a bit because he was so out of place in the wilderness.

He was a retired 8th grade history teacher. He had bells on the toes of his shoes, which the rangers told him he must have in order not to surprise some grizzly and end up getting mauled. I asked him what he was up to, and he informed me that he was walking across the U.S. and his first goal was to actually finish the trip, but secondly and more importantly, he was trying to raise awareness of the Constitution and The Bill of Rights during this trek. He kicked-off on June 12th near Florence, Oregon on the Pacific coast and he was ¼ of the way into this walk. He was an interesting, if somewhat preachy guy, after all, he had just retired from 36 years of having a captive audience of 8th graders. That probably makes you a bit preachy.

One of the things he asks people is what their idea of freedom is? I felt I was, at that moment, on my Harley, in the wilderness, with days of great riding behind me and ahead of me, experiencing American freedom to the fullest degree. I know that there are more stirring versions of what freedom means, but at this moment I was feeling very free. I enjoyed talking with this fellow, gave him a small donation, wished him well, and we headed out. (His website is: sonoflibertywalk.blogspot.com)

While in Yellowstone, Rick decided to jump his loaded to the hilt Harley off of the curb and in the process he squashed his ride bell and popped his kickstand spring off. With the help of some foreign tourists who spoke no English, we managed to leverage the spring back into place and be on our way. We stopped at the Continental Divide sign for photos and, once again Rick had an issue with a curb.

This one he backed off of and managed to high center himself. After burning some rubber off of his rear tire trying to power himself back over the curb, we tugged a bit and freed the monster.

I thought, “what’s the deal with Rick and curbs?” After two incidents in the span of an hour or so, I vowed silently to keep my eyes on him when we rolled near any curbs. After this learning process, Rick experienced no more curb issues.

We exited Yellowstone Park heading east toward Cody, Wyoming. Somewhere during this trip along the Continental Divide Rick broke off one of the two bolts holding his 20 inch apes to his risers. He chose not to tell me, since I would probably badger him, like one of his ex-wives, until he had to either kill me or separate from me during the ride. Good choice Rick. I would have freaked at the thought of one meager bolt keeping him from flying off the side of the mountain but he rode on, as though one bolt was just fine. To his way of thinking, he still had half of the required equipment needed to stay alive. Obviously, he’s an optimist. To him the glass is half full, not half empty.

On the way to Cody we spotted this cool and strange structure that was sitting on a barren hilltop with almost no landscaping or trees around it, at least that we could see. It was like something out of the movie Mad Max. It looked like someone lived in it, at least on the bottom portion.

Somehow we made it safely to Cody and pulled into one of the first motels we came to. After sleeping at the gravel pull-out the previous night, Rick was in no mood for another camping experience. We were rolling close enough to Sturgis that this motel was catering to bikers and had a cleaning station all set up for washing our bikes with cleaning rags, spray nozzles on the hose, soap and drying rags. I took the opportunity to scrub some grime off of my bike.

Don’t miss the final episode next week. How did Rick fix his bars and did they make it to the rally in the Badlands? See it all next week.

Day 5, Monday, August 9th.
This morning Rick had to get his bars fixed at the Harley shop. Unfortunately, Harley shop in Cody only sold clothing and trinkets, no repair facilities. It was just a stroke of luck that the motel we stayed at was right next to the Cody Custom Bike Shop. There was a line waiting at 8:00 A.M. when we arrived. One guy had a brand new, bald tire after going only 1,500 miles. We commented that it must have been a shitty tire they sold him.

His friends clued us in, “It’s the way he rides.” Apparently, he peeled out after every stop and screeched to a halt every time he slowed down. So much for the cheap tire theory. Rick snagged an appointment for 11:00, so we hung out in the motel room till just before the 11:00 check out time. By this time, every other bike was long gone, and I’m guessing that the motel cleaning staff was trying to figure out a polite way to have us evicted.

We walked right next door to the bike shop and milled around talking to all the other bikers who were being saved by this custom builder. Two fellows from New Zealand got repairs to one of their bikes so we chatted with them for a while. They were going to Sturgis and then to a few NASCAR races around the U.S. They were racing fans so that was cool. I offered them some Australian licorice that was in my bag, and it surprised them that they had to come all the way to Cody, Wyoming to run into a licorice addict from California who could supply them with their favorite licorice. They eagerly accepted my offer and we got a laugh out of the irony.

Finally, around 12:30 Rick’s bike was ready to go. The owner replaced both bolts and charged Rick $89.00. This guy could have charged every biker there as much as he wanted, since he was the only show in town, but he was more than fair and as far as we could see they did a great job. He usually opened up at 9:00, but that day he came in early to help every one get back on the long road to the Badlands. The sales lady showed Rick some rain gear that would fit him (size 4X) so he bought it. We had, up to this point, been either ahead of or just behind the rain and wind, and so we had no need of rain gear, yet. As it turned out, Rick would be thankful later on.

We didn’t hit the road to Sturgis (actually Rapid City where we had rooms waiting) till 1:00 p.m. That meant we had to push on, while we still had daylight. We passed through the Bighorn Mountains on the way to Sheridan, Wyoming and our intersection with Interstate 90. The Bighorns are really beautiful. As we descended out of the Big Horn Mountains we saw the rolling hills of Wyoming and the plains beyond laid out below us. It was such a sight that we stopped at a scenic pullout and took some photos. You could actually see the curvature of the Earth from this high perch. This truly was one of the best vistas I have ever seen.

It was very windy rolling into South Dakota from Wyoming that night. Enough so, that it was a challenge to hold a straight line down the wide smooth Interstate 90. We saw herds of antelope and many deer along the road in Wyoming and South Dakota and just as we hit the Rapid City limits, a deer ran right across the freeway in front of me. She wasn’t too close and was hauling ass without looking either way. It was just a mad dash with luck as her only protection. It was a reminder to me to keep a close eye out for wild life. When we got to the motel at around 9:30 p.m. my wife Suzanne, who had flown in earlier in the day, was outside waving to us, so we would know where to park. It was a great greeting and she was with 6 other bikers she befriended earlier in the day. It was about 8 ½ hours and 400 miles since we left Cody in the morning, so we ate some late supper and called it a night. I fell asleep looking forward to seeing Sturgis in the morning.

Day 6, Tuesday, August 10th.

As bad luck would have it, I got a call from my workplace and they needed me to take care of some issues over the phone. It was not until 11:30 that we made our way out to the bikes for some fun. We only had four days in the Sturgis area, and we had already lost half of Monday due to handlebar problems, which caused us to arrive so late. Now, we lost half of Tuesday due to problems at work. There were no other bikes in the lot when we departed.

We had lost fun to make up for. Sturgis contained a big crowd. I don’t know what the official estimates were, but it was big. There were so many people in the streets, and on the sidewalks that you couldn’t move. We didn’t want to jam around in a hurry. We were finally in our element, people watching, bike watching and shopping like old ladies at Macy’s. Whatta blast, we arrived in Mecca. We bought souvenirs for our friends and relatives. We also messed up on the sizes for ourselves. We’re like shopping dyslexics. The weather in Sturgis was great, just a little warm but no rain.

There weren’t a lot of 1%er patches visible but the Hells Angels had a strong presence and were out on the street wearing their colors with no worries. They had stores on both sides of the main drag. We saw a few other patches but not many.

On a safer note, it really was amazing to see how many bikers there were gathered about the Sturgis. They were just a small percentage of the total riders in the United States. I thought of how many folks were still at home and at work, like I usually am every year. Most of them would like to attend the Black Hills Rally. That added up to a hell of a lot of folks who like to ride. I would venture that most of us have two or three guns and a lot of us have military experience. We would make quite an imposing army if we all pulled together. Once again, I’m just musing for the fun of it.

Getting back to the topic of Sturgis, we ate at the Jack Daniels bar or someplace like that. The Jack Daniels girls were there. There was good music and a lot of happy people just having a good time. It was a friendly vibe and we had a helluva meal and some drinks before roaming back into the crowd.

Before leaving, we milled around another hour or so looking at cool bikes and interesting people. Sturgis treats bikers right. Everything is about bikes and bikers. The cops I came into contact with were minding their own business. By contrast, if you’ve been to Hollister the past few years, you know the difference. Hollister looks like a war zone. Helicopters constantly buzzing overhead, plainclothes and uniformed cops almost outnumber bikers, and the harassment factor was off the charts. Sturgis is the exact opposite. Sturgis is also flooded with money in return for this inviting and accepting attitude.

After we got back to the motel in Rapid City, I struck out on my own to go look at my old neighborhood while Rick and Suzanne rested up. I spent the first 18 years of my life in Rapid City (about ½ hour from Sturgis) so I had a lot to check out. I saw my old homes, and I visited an old neighbor. She was about 90 yrs. old and doing just fine. Her son Barry, who I knew from the old days, was there and we had a terrific visit. I went by my old school and around the old neighborhood and just took it all in. I headed back to the motel, and Suzanne and I went out to eat. Rick stayed at the motel. We had a real bad meal at the TGI Friday. It was bad food and the service stunk. We rolled back to the motel to sleep it off.

Day 7, August 11th, Wednesday

Once again, I had to deal with some collections issues at work, before we could hit the road. Rick didn’t feel well (it couldn’t be from a lack of Diet Pepsi) so he stayed at the room on Wednesday. At the continental breakfast, he made waffles and put apple topping and whipped cream on top. It was a bit sugary for a diabetic, with no medicine and that, along with being tired from all the riding, took Rick out of the game for a couple hours. Suzanne and I went riding around the Rapid City area. We stopped by my old friend, Rod Stamper’s jewelry shop to say hello. He was gone, but I was able to say hello to his mom. There were bikers lined up buying Black Hills gold jewelry. Rodney has been the manufacturer of Harley- Davidson gold jewelry for some time. Who knew back when we were kids running around the neighborhood, that he would one day be the supplier of Harley Black Hills Gold? I left a note for Rod to call me before we left. I hadn’t seen him for 45 years.

We left his shop and headed for Nemo Canyon. This was an old stomping ground for me and my brother, back when we lived there. We used to shoot guns, drink beer, fish, and take girls out there in our high school days. It was a great ride and from Nemo Canyon. You can peel one way to Deadwood, Sturgis, or Spearfish Canyon, or turn left and ride to Hill City, Mt. Rushmore, Crazy Horse Monument, or Custer State Park. Nemo Canyon is the perfect starting point for many good rides, and I’m lucky enough to know the area well. On the way back to the motel, we stopped at my old house, which is near the entrance to Nemo Canyon, and Suzanne filmed it so I could show my brothers and sisters back in California.

When we got back to the room Rick felt better, so we rode down the road to the Rapid City Harley shop. They packed in a lot of vendors around their facility. There was also a lot of good grub to choose from. I bought new handgrips at the Kuryakyn booth. We ate some fine chow and shopped some more. We didn’t expect it to be set up so well. That was one damn sharp Harley shop.

Day 8, August 12th, Thursday

We were having breakfast when my old friend Rod Stamper called. We set up a meeting time of 9:30 at his shop. When we arrived, I barely recognized him but his smile looked familiar and I asked this stranger if he was Rodney. It was and it was clear to me that I was also nearly unrecognizable to him after all these years. We started talking about old times, and it was so cool to see an old friend after so long. He has a great family life and a successful business, and I was so happy to see that. He remembered that my brother, Steve, and I had owned an old red Simplex cycle when we were about 15. That spawned many other stories and the time just flew by. Rod is still the same nice guy he was when we were teenagers.

Not only does he make Harley Black Hills gold, but he rides Harleys too. If you’re ever at Sturgis swing by his shop in Rapid City and check out his restored Indian on display inside. We took photos with each other and before leaving, I invited him to come visit us in California, so I could show him around our gold country back roads.

We said our goodbyes, and then it was time to head just down the road from his shop to Mt. Rushmore. Rick had never been to Mt. Rushmore, so we went by for a look before heading down some back roads into the Black Hills.

We stopped along the highway where there was a perfect view of the Presidents (after our crowded experience in Yellowstone, we were reluctant to get inside the actual parking area).

We took pictures and then off we rode back to Hill City, where we got some more T-shirts. We had never seen so many T-shirt vendors. They were everywhere and I think we bought shirts from all of them. After that, we headed back into Rapid City via Rim Rock drive. Rodney had informed me that my old friend Harley Scoville had a bar on Rimrock Drive, so I went that way to visit him.

We missed the turnoff to his bar and just continued on into Rapid City. We stopped at Canyon Lake Park for a few minutes and I took some photos to show my relatives in California.

We went back to the motel and boxed up our dirty clothes and new purchases (mostly T-shirts) and took them to the Harley shop where there was a UPS booth. Instead of carrying all these items back home on the bikes, we just shipped them.

After that we headed back to Sturgis for one last visit. Suzanne filmed our ride to Sturgis and some of the downtown activities and finally our exit from Sturgis toward Rapid City. It was the end of another great day of riding.

Day 9, August 13th, Friday

I ate breakfast with Suzanne, and then it was time for her to catch the shuttle to the airport for her flight back to California. I hated to see her go. We’d had such a great time in South Dakota. We didn’t want it to end. Rick and I watched the weather channel to decide whether to take the shorter southern route home or the longer, more scenic, northern route. The weather channel said it was going to be sunny all week up north, so we opted for the picturesque run, especially since Rick hates to ride in the desert heat and doesn’t find the desert particularly interesting to look at. The heat doesn’t bother me too much, and I find the desert beautiful in its’ own way but the cooler, longer and more scenic route appealed to both of us. On the way to Sturgis, we took five days, mostly on back roads and with fewer freeway miles. The way back home would be mostly freeway miles and a few back roads.

We packed up the bikes, checked out, and rolled northwest. On the way out of town, I stop in Sturgis at the Black Hills National Cemetery to visit my parents’ graves. How strange it was to be in Sturgis for the rally but also in Sturgis visiting my parents’ graves. Rick waited for me outside the gates and it was a good thing, as I became emotional at the sight. Many forgotten memories and feelings crept back into my mind. I don’t usually show much emotion but this time I couldn’t control it. I remembered how good our family life had been before our Mother died at 38 years of age. There had been seven of us and suddenly there were only six. I remembered how we lost our home and splintered after that.

I remembered how young our Father was when he died and thought about how many things most families take for granted. We were not able to experience and share as a family because of their early deaths. I suppose being in Rapid City visiting old friends and seeing old sights must have triggered this heightened sense of loss. I’m sure that our parents would be happy to know that all five of their children experienced the joy of having children, and lived to relative old age. I comfort myself with those thoughts. I said goodbye to them, dried my eyes and headed back out the gates to join up with Rick for the ride home. For some reason I hid my tears even though there was no shame in crying at the loss of your parents. Rick was good enough to say nothing to me, and we just took off without discussion.

A couple of miles later we passed the main Sturgis exit and took one last look to our right where the party was still going strong. For us the Sturgis trip aspect was over, but for many bikers still within Badlands range it was Friday, and they were rolling this direction for the final three days of the biggest and best rally I’ve ever been to. Goodbye Sturgis, hello Wyoming.

Of course the rain, which was not supposed to be anywhere around these parts all week (according to the weather channel) came sputtering down almost as soon as we crossed out of South Dakota. It started around Gillette, and we rode in mild rain for some time. We pulled off the main highway in order to get a closer look at Devil’s Tower in northeastern Wyoming by the Belle Fourche River. We got close enough to see it clearly in the distance but chose not to go all the way there. We took the unimpressive photo you see here and then rolled back to interstate 90 heading northwest for Montana.

Just across the Montana border we ran into an older Bandido who was wearing his colors over his rain gear. He was from Texas and was, with his younger female partner, heading to Sturgis. He was heading over to take a look at the area of Custer’s Last Stand also known as The Battle of Little Bighorn, or according to the Indians, the Battle of the Greasy Grass. He was a friendly guy and seemed a little out of place out there in Montana, running alone with his colors flying proudly and looking at historic sites.

Rick and I also decided to swing by Custer’s last stand and get a sense of the terrain where those men lost their lives. It’s a lonely looking area with rolling hills and wandering creeks. It was peaceful, but I thought to myself what a chaotic and frightening place it must have been when the fighting was took place. That would have been June 25th and 26th in 1876 near the Little Bighorn River in Eastern Montana. There were 700 of Custer’s men killed including Custer, two of his brothers, a nephew, and his brother in law. There were also 55 wounded. Five entire companies were annihilated. Payback’s a bitch. He had hunted Indians for some time, and I guess he was feeling too cocky. Remember, never underestimate your enemy. It is a sobering spot to visit especially on a gray and drizzling day. That’s what I would call an historic spot.

The rain increased. Remember the nice lady at the Cody Custom Bike Shop? Rick sure did, without her, he woulda been a big leather sponge. Since it was raining hard, we didn’t take too many photos and instead, just slogged along till we rolled into Livingston, Montana. We found a comfortable place to grab a cheap room for the night and right next door was a terrific family restaurant, which served the best homemade tasting food on the trip so far. I’m not sure how many miles we ran in the rain, but from Rapid City, S.D. to Livingston, Montana was a good long ride. We were ready to rest up for the next leg of our trip.

Day 10, August 14th, Saturday

We woke up early and after some more McDonald’s breakfast we headed out of Livingston, still on Interstate 90, for Idaho and Washington. It continued to rain for half of the day and it was damn brisk. August in Montana felt like winter in the central valley of California. We had on all of our leather gear, plus gloves, face warmers and rain gear, and still we were a bit chilled. Once again, due to the rain we rode on with few stops to enjoy the scenery. Even though it was raining, the country was still beautiful in this part of Montana. We passed through Bozeman and Butte and on toward Missoula, where my friend Cal Fuss lived, and the entire way was rolling green open country. I saw a bald Eagle flying off to my right, as we neared Missoula. We stopped to gas up and grab a bite to eat at Five Guys Burgers, or something like that. They sold only the basics; burgers, fries and drinks, but the portions were huge and the burgers damn good. They also had giant bags of peanuts in the shell. It was a strange and tasty place to snatch a burger and fill up on salted peanuts.

With full bellies we rolled toward the northern tip of Idaho and by now the weather was sunny and warm. We passed by Lake Coeur d’Alene and the lake was huge and just a beautiful blue color.

We continued on to nearby Spokane where we endured the first real traffic we encountered in several days. Soon after passing through Spokane, the country started to look dry and barren, and it becomes downright hot. We stopped for gas in a little town called Sprague, where I failed to look at my gas receipt until I arrived back home. I discovered that they charged me for almost 7 gallons of gas. My tank only holds 5 gallons. They obviously needed to recalibrate their tanks or maybe that’s how they stayed in business in this desolate little spot. We continued on through this barren land to Ellensburg where we cut south on Hwy. 82, following the Yakima River to Yakima.

From there, we rolled to Toppenish where we decide to spend the night. We scored a room and then hunted town for some supper. While we ate, we noticed people lining up at the window watching the “reality show” taking place in the park across the street. There was large group of Indians picnicking and two fellows were slugging it out. The cops arrived and the two warriors stop fighting each other and decided to turn their attention on the cops. One of the Indians was tazered, falling to the ground and jerking around like a carp out of water.

The second fellow fares just a little better because he only gets blasted with either pepper spray or mace, I’m not sure which, but he ended up crawling around on the ground rubbing his eyes frantically. A short time later they were both handcuffed and on their way to a free meal at the jail. The remaining family members and friends were completely unfazed by the fistfight and continued partying as if it was a common occurrence and no big deal, amazing.

“What’s all that noise,” one Indian said. “Please pass the potato salad.” As we finished dinner and headed to our room, they were still drinking and going strong.
That brought to an end a day of riding through cold, rainy weather and hot, dry weather and last, but certainly not least, the disturbing and somewhat sad dinner show at the end of the day.

Day 11, August 15th, Sunday

We once again wound ’em up early at 7:20 A.M. Just before leaving we heard the weather channel saying that the Yakima area is in for record breaking heat today. Goodbye Yakima! From Toppenish we cut off of Hwy. 82, onto Hwy. 97 heading for the Columbia River Gorge and the Oregon border. The bottom of the gorge was cool and soon we were climbing up the other side into Oregon where the weather and the scenery both took a comfortable turn for the better.

Soon we began to see a succession of distant volcanoes. Vaguely in sight was Mt St. Helens at 8,365 ft., slightly shorter since blowing its top off a few years back, Mt. Hood the highest point in Oregon at 11,239 ft., Mt. Jefferson at 10,497 ft., South Sister at 10,358 ft., and several other lesser volcanoes. All around us were ancient lava flows that reminded us of the violent and fiery past that formed this beautiful area.

As we were nearing the California border around Klamath, Oregon we got to meet the second idiot during our time on the road. This one turned out to be an irate, possibly insane truck driver. He took road rage to new levels. I’m not sure if he was taking too many little white pills or if he was going through “manopause” or what the hell his deal was, but we could have done without meeting him. We had just passed him when coming from the opposite direction was a highway patrol car speeding towards us with his siren on and lights flashing. Everyone slowed down and pulled to the side of the road as required by the law till he could peel past us. The only ones who did not pull to the side were the trucker and his buddy in the truck in front of him. He flew past me just a foot from the side of my bike. He would have killed me, if I had pulled back onto the road just a second earlier. He just missed Rick as well.

We finally got back on the highway and when we passed him Rick flipped him off, which is the least response this guy should have expected after nearly killing us. Instead of realizing he was in the wrong he flips us back and floors his truck trying to run us down. Black smoke poured out of his stack and his diesel engine making roared deeply from being taxed so hard, and he was gaining on us fast. I motioned for Rick to get moving and we got the hell out of there knowing that motorcycles always lose a battle between cars or trucks.

How do I know that you ask? I just recently healed up from getting run over by a hit-and-run pickup truck driver, while I was stopped at a red light. I had two broken legs and a destroyed Road King to show for that encounter, and it was all fresh in my mind as this scene unfolded. It was also fresh enough in my mind that I wanted to kick this guy’s ass for trying to intentionally do something so stupid. You want to flip us off? That I can deal with. You want to run us over? That is crossing the line. We continued on till we came to a spacious truck chain up area, which was in sight of Mt. Shasta. Soon, we see these two idiots coming down the highway toward the chain up area and as they near us we invite them to pull over and settle this little dispute man to man. They just flip us off again and continue on down the road without slowing down. Being already stopped and in view of Mt. Shasta went ahead and took some photos of Mt. Shasta then got back on the road.

Again we caught up with them in the slower truck lane. As we pass we signal for them to pull over. Now these two are not so brave. They just took a quick glance over at me, and when I motion for them to pull off the road, they just look straight ahead. No more flipping us off, no more bad- ass gestures, not even another glance in my direction. By now they seemed worried that we might be going as far as their next gas stop, and they were two little scared punks. We flipped them off one more time for good measure, called them pussies and continue on our way home. The way I see it, we win by default and they were cowards. Oh, it’s great to be a Neanderthal.

Around the time the day’s drama unfolded, Rick’s rear tire showed signs of getting bald, so we slowed down to around 60 MPH for his safety, in case the tire blew. We looked the tread over and decided it was okay to push on for Redding, California where there was a Harley dealership. We arrived there around supper time.

Rick casually mentioned his birthday, so I wanted to take him for a good meal to celebrate. We found an Outback Steak House and went in all sweaty, sunburned and dusty and had what I thought was the perfect meal to celebrate his B.D. and the end of our time on the road together. We both had a drink and a hearty meal then parted ways. He was going to stay at the motel next to the Harley dealership, and I was going to continue on home to be with my sweetie for the night. No offense to Rick, but when I’m that close to home, I will choose a room with Suzanne every time over a room with him. We had 11 great days of riding. Rick is a “no extra comforts” type of biker because he rode the whole way with no windshield, 20-inch apes, wearing moccasins half the time, and no diabetes medicine. He was the perfect riding mate for such a long journey. You find out what people are made of on trips like this. He’s made of tough stuff (and Diet Pepsi).

We said adios without a lot of fanfare. It was kind of a lowkey farewell after so many miles and days. Something to the effect of, “see you later Rick. I hope you get in first thing in the morning for your new tire.”

He replied something like, “All right. See you later.”

And I was gone, like a horse headed to the barn after a long day’s ride.
This leg of the ride would last four more hours. The sun was setting as I blasted for home on Hwy. 5. I looked to my left and see my shadow on the embankment. I’m heading south, the sun is low on my right side to the west and it is casting my shadow along the roadside. I think to myself that if I can’t take a photo of me scooting along at 75 mph, I can at least try to take a picture of “Shadow Me.”

I put my camera down and make the final push for home. The surroundings become more and more familiar as I roll closer and closer to home.

I pull into my driveway at around 10:30 P.M., just over 15 hours and around 750 miles after leaving Toppenish, Washington. Happily, Suzanne is once again there to greet me. She takes one final photo of me sitting there on my trusty steed looking shell shocked from all of the day’s events.

I check the mileage on my speedometer and see that I have traveled 4,120 miles since I left home. I think to myself, what fun, what an adventure, and what a great life! Somebody peel me off of this damn bike and where the hell is my bed?

It’s been a few days now since we got back from our trip. Rick was the first customer in line at the Harley shop in Redding on Monday. He got his tire replaced and rode home in time to relax and drink 10 or 12 Diet Pepsis while watching George Lopez on the tube.

I have had time to reflect a bit on the ride. One thing I realized is that I haven’t had many confrontations in the past few years, because most of the dumb asses I meet while I’m working and representing the company I work for. Customers may insult you, or bounce checks, or pay 6 months late, or not pay at al,l and you have to just remember that you are the face of your company, not an individual who has just been insulted, and you need to keep your true feelings to yourself. No ass kicking, I’m forced to be diplomatic and try to keep the account for the future.

Out there on the road, on a trip like ours, in the real world, when you run into someone who just insults the hell out of you, or tries to injure you, like the two idiots we ran into in Oregon, you can respond in the fashion that suits the moment. That’s not to say that I’m running around looking for asses to kick. At my age that could very well be akin to writing a check that I can’t cash. HOWEVER!!! If you do want to tell someone that they have pissed you off, and if you do want to at least try to do something about it, well, guess what, you can! Go ahead and make their day! After all, you have all that pent up anger from your years on the job, just waiting to be released like some deranged, caged, monkey on the next available asshole you run into.

That was one thing I took away from this trip. Another thing I discovered is that there were a hell of a lot of really comforting people along the way, who wanted to know where we were headed, ask details about our bikes, tell us stories from their past, or just chat away a few minutes. I came in contact with many people who wouldn’t even notice you if you were in a car, but they will strike up a conversation with you, when you’re on your bike. We didn’t see even one little incident in all of the Sturgis activities. We met only mellow, friendly people who were enjoying themselves. It’s interesting to note that the only dopes we met were not bikers. We also met many great people in Oregon, just not those guys I mentioned previously (the drunk and the truckers).

I also discovered that, for me, the rally, as great as it was, was secondary to the trip itself. While Sturgis was the actual destination, it was not the highlight. The highlight was the journey in its entirety. Sturgis turned out to be just one of the ingredients of the whole enchilada.

I thought about what things I would do differently in putting together this account of our ride, if I had it to do again. I would have taken more photos of the people I encountered. Some of them really still stand out in my mind. I would photograph more of the unusual or old buildings I saw and I would photograph more of the small town streets I drove down. There was a good feeling in some of the smaller towns that we passed through. They actually made me feel good while we were passing through. I mostly photographed the landscape, and now realize I missed some of the things that stuck with me the most. I’ll do better next trip.

I mentioned to Desirea, one of the young ladies I work with, that I had kept a journal during our ride and she said, “you’re such a nerd”. My first thought was, “don’t mess with me Desirea.” Actually I think maybe she’s right because I don’t personally know anyone else who has gone on a ride and made a damn book out of it. Actually, this is more of a pamphlet. If you saw the last episode of the Larry David show, Curb Your Enthusiasm, you may remember the part where they make fun of Jason Alexander’s book because as they say, “it’s so thin. It really is just a pamphlet, not a book, nooo, just a pamphlet.” Even though I may be a nerd and this may be just a pamphlet, I enjoyed the ride and I enjoyed putting it all down on paper.

Thanks to my son Lee for helping me get this into the computer and then off of the computer and onto paper. Thanks to my son David for taking care of the house and pets and for doing parts of my job at work, while I was gone. Thanks to my wife Suzanne for being so selfless as to encourage me to take so many days on the road because instead, she deserves a long vacation together after taking care of me while I healed up from my broken legs and subsequent knee replacement. I think most wives who saw their husband nearly killed on a motorcycle and who had to nurse them back to health for a year or so would not be as understanding.

It was a great ride. Live long and prosper!

–Gary Miller
Monday, Aug. 30, 2010