| You don't have to spend much time in Sturgis to
realize that you left Kansas (thank God) and most of the rest of civilization behind. This
is not the place to wear your Adidas T-shirt or Gucci loafers. This is a basic black
social function, black leather, black T-shirts, black boots.... you get the idea. A Trip to Remember (Dallas, TX, August 1994) We returned from Sturgis, SD yesterday after making our third pilgrimage to the land of Harley. Unlike previous trips, this one provided a few unexpected challenges. With the exception of a speeding ticket in Oklahoma, the first day was relatively uneventful. On day two we set off on two wheels and drove for a few hours until I decided to pull off the highway and visit a "Scenic Overlook" in nowhere Nebraska. We climbed the winding road and faster than you can say "there's Elvis", we found ourselves on the ground after a 180 degree spin in the sand. Lori jumped clear and survived with skinned elbows and wrist. I received a bruised hip, chest and road rash on my left knee and elbow. My jeans looked like we had a head-on with a truck, ripped bloody and covered with tar. The bike, fortunately survived with no problems. After checking the scooter, adding oil and massaging our bruised egos, we again set out for South Dakota. A few hours later, it looked like the end of the world was at hand. We ain't in Kansas, Toto, but that's a twister ahead of us. We literally drove through a tornado (the people behind us stopped to take pictures of the funnel cloud). There was nowhere to run, hide or stop, no underpasses, buildings or cover of any kind. We kept moving and literally drove at a 45 degree angle against the wind and blowing rain. Early that evening we finally found a flea-bag hotel, where we treated our wounds and took a well needed nap. I say nap because Lori, who NEVER gets up early, awoke two days in a row at 4:00 A.M. ready to ride. She must be getting used to this by now. Westward Ho!The next day and beyond were uneventful in so far as hurricanes, tornadoes, cycle stunts or local authority intervention of our travel plans. Our friends from Seattle (we originally met on CompuServe in 1993) rolled into Rapid City on Wednesday. The "Bledsoe gang" traveled via Canada, down through Wyoming and over to South Dakota. They had been on the road six days before they arrived in Sturgis. We became good friends with Michael Bledsoe and John Harvey during last year's rally. This year they conned brother Mac Bledsoe (father of Drew Bledsoe, Q.B. for N.E. Patriots) and three other friends to make the journey. No new surprises in Sturgis this year. The street theater was in full bloom, scantily clad women (& men), an abundance of leather, chains, tattoos and very loud American Iron everywhere. It just don't get no better than this. I must admit, the road rash from our spill in Nebraska helped us to "blend" with the endless parade of people strolling Main Street. We made the obligatory trip to Mount Rushmore, to see the "heads" (one of our "Bandit" friends kept calling the sculpture, the heads). We gambled a few dollars in Deadwood. Although we lost, our luck was much better than Wild Bill's who was shot in the back while playing poker in this friendly community. All these thrills and more were recorded on tape for posterity. We also found our old friends from the "Banditos" whom we met during our first trip in '92. Still as colorful as ever and a riot to spend an evening with. In spite of our exciting beginning, the trip was a lot of fun. Fortunately, our journey home was uneventful with the exception of experiencing organ-shrinkin' cold and blistering heat within hours. |