Sturgis Or Die, Day Five....We Have Arrived!

Time leave the tiny town of Lusk, but first another free hotel snack. It's there that we learn that the railroad and a women's prison (easy out there you perv's) are the main employers of this small burg. That might explain the nonstop procession of freight trains we saw, each about a mile long when we were cruising into town the day before.....we even got one of the engineers to give a long tug on the air horn..........we honked too..........a mutual salute from one classic American machine to another.

Sturgis bound, the morning crowd scene at Lusk's main gas station

Pulling out of the motel driveway and ......what the heck!? It's a parade......a real live small town, 4H kind of parade, complete with girls on horses, a band on a flatbed, fire engines, an old pick-up truck and a guy riding what can only be described as a mechanized demonic bull.........no really!

We watch, mostly because the road is closed in the direction we need to go...........kids throw candy, haven't they heard of litter, growing landfills? Damn things could put  out an eye.........Unruly children gone, we pull out and get on down the road...............we've got to get to the promised land, we've got to get to Sturgis dammit.

Once again the weather is great, hot and humid, but manageable. The scenery is stunning; open countryside, rolling grassland, and low rock formations. No traffic at all as our Harley's cruise full tilt in perfect staggered formation down the two lane blacktop (which actually kind of appeared pink, go figure). It's as though we had an invisible escort, magically clearing the way to Rapid City.

Great grub and the entertainment was free!

A quick stop at the All Star Cafe in Evanston, tough to find a place to park there were so many motorcycles...........Nate and our server could have done open mic night at the Improv, oh yeah, they were funny. Some good chow, lots of laughs and we're ready to split. We're on a mission..............gotta go.

Our charmed ride continues to the tune of a staccato V-Twin orchestra........damn these bikes sound good! Nothing particularly new about that last fact, but there's just something about the low rumble of a Harley cruising in top gear............sometimes I  roll the throttle just enough to feel the sound a little more intensely. If you've ridden one of Milwaukee's finest,  you know exactly what I'm talking about.

Pinned at 75mph Rapid City comes into view in short order, we navigate to the hotel, no problem, Vince gets us there without a single wrong turn. We roll up to the hotel, Comfort Inn and Suites...........very nice, the room is clean and neat, and the AC is awesome. We're good. A quick pit stop, clean up the bikes a bit......OK, Vince and I are the only ones to actually buff up our bikes, the other guys are proudly sporting their road grime as a badge of pride for the miles they've ridden. Which by the way stands at over 1,450 when we put the kickstands (oops, jiffy stands) down at the hotel. A good friend of the boys, Matt, has arrived as well. He flew in and will be joining the fun.................got a feeling Matt and his rental car will be called into designated driver duty before our stay in Sturgis is over..........hello Full Throttle Bar!!

Just a section of the t-shirt wall at Black Hills HD

Sturgis is about 30 miles northwest of Rapid City, but first we stop at Black Hills Harley Davidson along Highway 90 (it's perfectly located between Rapid City and Sturgis), which has become a destination in its own right. Huge dealership, lots of vendors, some of them big time like Vance and Hines, Dunlop and many more. We score some t-shirts (the first of many no doubt!) and head on down the road to our real destination............the reason for the 1,450 mile journey - Sturgis.

Main Street, Sturgis



The action goes on well into the night....sort of



We roll into town, the "back way", a benefit of having been here before. It's still 95 degrees and the humidity must be at least 90 too. We park on a side street and begin the walk to Main Street. Nate, Paul and Matt are slack jawed, so many bikes, people and sounds, it's hard to know where to turn next..........this isn't Street Vibrations, it's not Laughlin............this is Sturgis, and there's nothing like it......anywhere!!!

You know what they say about photos..............that's why the words are stopping and the viewing should be starting. Take a look at a fraction of what we saw in a couple of hours on Main Street. Be brave, be very brave!

Neve Campbell? Nah, happy bear girl

Land Grab, Your Government Skirts Its Own Laws

Given that Chrome Asylum is a site pretty much dedicated exclusively to the American V-Twin lifestyle, and all the zany, madcap antics that we tend to engage in, it might seem kinda odd to find an article focusing on our off-road riding brothers. Or is it? For the record I ride and have ridden off-road for years, it's a blast, and really sharpens the bike handling skills, my current mount is an '08 KTM XCF250W, lovingly nicknamed "the black hearted bitch", since it seems that every time I take her out, she pitches me on my noggin, the last time cost me a couple of screws in my right hand........more on that another day. See, I've always been of a mind that once we drink the two wheel Kool-Aid, we automatically kind of "opt-in" to a larger family; and like most families we don't always get along, we don't hang out, we make fun of each other, and our reunions might more closely resemble a heavyweight MMA bout than a touching Hallmark moment......but yell, slap and spit as we might (and that's just the grandparents) when the family is threatened we rally, and this is one of those times. We had better push ourselves away from the table and get on with the rallying, because something fundamental is in jeopardy.

Seems to me at the core of what we love most about motorcycles is the simple, yet fundamental concept of freedom..........freedom to ride what we want, when we want. The freedom to go wherever our tiny reptilian brains dictate without undo (read "just about any") interference from family, friends and most of all "The Man". It goes to the very soul of just about every motorcyclist, whether he throws a leg over a Harley Ultra or a clapped out YZ 400..........doesn't matter, it's freedom that we cherish.

And that very freedom is under assault (please do pardon the "hate speech") by the weasels in Washington. Proving that you can "be a pimp and a prostitute too", U.S. Interior Secretary Ken Salazar signed Secretarial Order 3310 which essentially created a new "land use" designation called simply, "Wild Lands". Why does this matter? Because it's the latest attempt by the Green Elites to circumvent the will of the people and shove their extremist agenda down the throats of the American public, an agenda, we have to be clear here, that has virtually nothing to do with the "environment" and everything to do with governmental control over virtually every aspect of our lives.........the hugging of trees is merely a means to an end my friends. Cap and Trade? Income redistribution, pure and simple.......under the guise of feel good pablum. Don't buy it.

What this new "Wild Lands" designation has the power to do is potentially close off up to 130 million acres of BLM land to responsible motorized recreation. And since the Eco-Fascists have encountered strong resistance to their radical proposals in Congress (remember your eighth grade civics class boys and girls, Congress and only Congress, has the Constitutional authority to manage and control public lands.........our lands) they've decided to avoid the process entirely and seek the aid of fellow travelers in the current administration (EPA is trying the same un-Constitutional ploy with regard to Cap and Trade....in case you didn't know). They're crafty bastards, you have to give them that.

Today it's access to land, tomorrow it's banning motorcycling entirely........think that's too alarmist, too extreme!? Really? Consider for a moment universal, government controlled health care ( hey, we sort of have that now, don't we? heh, heh, heh). Now consider an HHS audit of activities that place undo "strain" and "cost" on the system..........you feeling me now? Where do you think motorcycling would rank in such a study........near the flippin' top, that's where. And with a stroke of a pen, all for the common good mind you, you're prize machine becomes lawn art. And once a right is surrendered, it's pretty tough to get it back, just ask the Brits that would like the right to legally own a handgun.

Now that you're armed (damn, there's that nasty hate speech again) with some knowledge, do more research, understand what's going on, share it with folks.........including your representative in Congress. Let them know that you expect them to do the right thing.

Lastly, join the AMA (www.AmericanMotorcyclist.com), they're out there everyday fighting for our right to ride. I know, as an organization they haven't been too kind to those of us in the club community (One Percenters know what I mean), but we have to get passed it, the stakes are simply too high.....don't tell anyone, or tell everyone, just join up today! Don't let someone else determine your rights as an American..............if for no other reason than that would be profoundly un-American!

 

Full Frontal Lids, 100% Biker, Believe That!

Few topics get a room full of bikers as hell bent, eyes bleeding, spit screaming, lit up as much as the subject of motorcycle helmets (or lids as they are also known, and for those in the audience on a first name basis with your local DEA station chief, we ain't talkin' those kind of lids); safe v. unsafe, cool v. lame, law v. choice, black v. everything else........the arguments are as endless as the government's appetite for our hard earned dough. And to be honest, we're not gonna solve much of anything here either, not really.......as a matter of fact we're not gonna accomplish much more than to add a dash more napalm to a Molotov cocktail. Come to think about it, that kinda sounds like fun, doesn't it!?

For the record, I wear a helmet, full face, and always have, even before the goons that pass for legislators in the Peoples Republic of Kalifornia decreed that if the proletariat choose to engage in two wheeled motorized transportation, they must do so with a "proper", PRK junta approved lid. Great for helmet sales, pretty shameful on the personal liberty front.

Just as choosing to ride a motorcycle in the first place is a deeply personal call, so too should the donning of a helmet. To "wear or not to wear" should be left up to the individual rider and not some faceless, over-paid, SEIU lapdog, bureaucrat........who's riskiest adventure to date was to order the hot wings at Applebee's on an empty stomach. Not the governments job to protect me from myself 24/7 in every aspect of my life. Go ahead, show me that amendment in the Constitution.......not there?! Didn't think so. Butt out.

Unfortunately that train has sailed, and it looks like, at least for now, most of us are going to be dealing with at least some sort of relentless "safety Nazi" blitzkrieg on our right to remain lid free.......just know, you smarmy little jack-weasels, we're coming for ya........start planning for an early retirement (you guys live for that anyway right?) in 2012. I'm just saying........

Now having said that I think helmet usage should be up to the individual motorcycle rider, it's pretty obvious to your humble scribe, that wearing a lid, just about any lid to be honest, is a pretty smart move. I've heard all the "restricted peripheral vision" arguments, as well as, the time tested "helmets cause broken necks" fiction, or the "you can't hear with a helmet on" lie.........all bulls*#t. There's simply no rational "scientific" argument against wearing a lid based on the premise that helmets are inherently "unsafe". Don't do it, you'll just look like an idiot. Really, don't do it.

If you think that wearing one is "uncool", fine. I can respect that. If you don't cotton to "The Man" telling you what to do, even better...........that dog hunts. If you want to head out on the mean streets with nothing more between your melon and the grill of that pimped out 'Sclade than a receding hairline......far out. This used to be America and you should be free to do just that. No judgements.

But here's the deal, not only do I think helmets make a dandy "buffer" between me and Terra-firma, but I think they can look pretty damn cool doing it..........and full face lids just might be the coolest of the bunch "style-wise". There. I said it.

What!? I know what you're thinking, if John Law says I have to sport a bowl on my noggin, I'm going for the absolute minimum.........screw them. My skull cap, my "novelty" helmet lets the whole world know, that I'm not taking any crap from "The Man". But let's think this through. Forget for a moment that a full face helmet is by far the most comfortable, quiet, and versatile helmet you could choose. And don't even think about the fact that over fifty percent of all "head to ground interface" incidents tend to impact the front of the face below the eyes, down to the jaw-line (yeah, nothing like having your fillings drilled on a bots dot). We're not the nanny state here, we accept risk willingly, and don't whine like a school girl when it bites us in the butt, no sir.........this isn't about "safety".

Nope, this is about style, and the full face rig has it in spades. Think about it, your head is completely surrounded in a battle-hardened shell, just like some medieval Templar knight. Not only that, with a dark smoke shield in place and flipped down, we have become truly mysterious to all who gaze upon your sinister being. Who is the man behind that "mask", sinner or saint, no one really knows? On the other hand, with an open face or half helmet, we're hanging it out there for all to see (oh, I know, you can wear a mask or scarf, and those are kinda cool..........except in the summer when it's a buck ten in the shade, with zero air flow).........and for some of us, maintaining our bad ass street cred is way more problematic when our decidedly non-threatening mugs are on display for the whole world to see. Personally, I like to keep 'em guessing.

Are all full face helmets equally cool you ask? Not at all. White helmets are out, don't do it. As are most any "race replica" graphic scheme........you wanna be Nicky, cool, buy an 1198R, not gonna play on a Harley (does it matter what the metric guys do?). By far the best bet is flat black, with a dark, dark, smoke shield. Stickers are optional, but at least one "Loud Pipes Save Lives" should be prominently affixed to bolster that "anti-social" biker vibe.........again, just think through your choices, devils heads good, Hello Kitty, not so much. You might have noticed that I haven't addressed "flip-up" or "system" helmets.....mostly because they confuse me. I know tons of cruiser guys are switching out to them, and that's good, I guess..........it's just that when the chin bar is down they look really cool, but when it's flipped up, oh damn, do they look lame! Remember Devo? Ah, most of you don't.........just trust me on this one.

Still don't think going "full frontal" is biker cool? Well my friend, start checking out your local club members (and just in case you need clarification, we're not referring to H.O.G. members here, think more on the lines of deaths head logos.......you feeling me now?) and see what they're sporting........more and more are doing the full face stealth thing. Need I remind you of the obvious advantages these helmets might offer those with a less than comfortable relationship with the local constabulary? And let's be honest here, these are the guys many of us look to when deciding what makes the cut when it comes to cool. You know it's true.......you might not want to admit it, but it is, and that's OK.

There you have it Chromies, not only can these full face jobs save your bacon, but they can look damn fine while they're doing it. Look, you've probably got to wear a lid anyway, why not bust out, and be at the pointy end of the spear and go full frontal and leave those mushroom top half-helmets to the wannabees and style challenged that "think" they're all bad ass biker. I won't tell them if you won't........ 

Sturgis Or Die, Day Four....Damn It's Hot!

Day 4

No taps on the door, no jarring wake up calls this morning. The wrecking crew is spent. Over four hundred hard miles the day before, up late blogging, and there's a rumor going around that certain folks were playing dominos and downing Crown Royal until all hours......no photos though, so no proof. Well almost no proof, let's just say it was the "old guys" rousting the lads this a.m., draw your own conclusions.

A quick shower and it's down to the lobby for a yummy free breakfast; OK, "yummy" might be a stretch (does anyone ever really know how long the sausage has been decomposing in that fat encrusted pan? And the eggs, well let's not even talk about the eggs)..........but did I mention it was "free"?? Blood sugar levels stabilized, we wander outside to load up the bikes.

The open road, Wyoming style

By day four our routine has become, well, routine. Everyone has their own method and style for packing and unpacking their stuff, I'm a minimalist....take out just what I need for the day, leave everything else alone. Vince, on the other hand, does a nightly inventory and "rearrange" of the contents of his trunk. Five guys, five different ways of doing the same thing. But we're becoming more efficient every day, less wasted motion, ready to hit the road that much faster.............it's a small thing, but it's one of the things that makes "riding the life" a truly unique experience. It’s in the doing..............if that makes sense.

Loaded up, ready to go....... oh, damn it's hot! A dash across the parking lot for a quick splash and go (NASCAR-speak for fueling up for you folks not up on redneck lingo) and..........and my head is spinning, no doubt about it, gotta get more than four hours sleep tonight..........being dizzy and riding 300 miles in an oven isn't a winning combination. But ride we must.......straight to Flaming Gorge (yeah, that's the actual name.......I swear) Harley Davidson on the next block for a long sleeve shirt. Only had two, need one to get me to the promised land. Properly equipped for safety, the vest stays in the T-Bag today, we head out east on the 80.

Gas station hydration, Nate's feelin' the heat

Today is going to be great, we're finally going to get off the Interstate and on to some proper two lane roads with real curves. But first things first, we've got about 150 miles of Highway 80 to put behind us. Mark leads us out and we're on our way. Still morning and the mercury is continuing its ascent......fifteen minutes out, cottonmouth. Lot's of construction around Rock Springs.......left lane closed, right lane closed, and back again. What are we "constructing" you might well ask? Pretty much nothing, from what we could see.

After crossing four states our little group has developed a theory on "highway construction", it may not be original, but it's ours. It's all a revenue scam. "They" (insert corrupt government agency of your choice) create a "cone zone" (invest in whatever company makes those damn orange barrels), doesn't matter if any work is being done, then double the fines for speeding. Give the troopers some radar guns and bingo! You've got a money making machine, like I said, it's just a theory.

Relax, it's just a loose footpeg

A strong cross wind buffets the Harley’s, but only randomly, no big deal, we cope without even thinking about. Our group stays tight as we pass an endless procession of trucks. It's kind of a game, you approach the truck, the bike starts to wiggle and shake from the "jet wash" coming off the back of the rig. But then as you pull along side the draft effect takes over and you can feel your machine speed up as you roll past. It's a neat feeling. Once past the cab you might get punched by the cross wind that the truck had been shielding you from...........or there might be.........nothing. You never know, that's what makes it fun.

We are seeing more and more bikes heading east, mostly Harley's, so we assume they're on their way to Sturgis. We also see quite a few bikes on trailers, towed by everything from Prevost motor coaches (aka rockstar buses) to ratted out rusty pick-ups. A word here on the practice of "trailering", rather than get into the "are they real bikers or not" argument......I just think it's kinda sad. They're really missing out on one of the best aspects of motorcycling.............the riding that's the basis for all the adventures, tales and lies that follow. How many really cool stories begin with,"......there I was in my F-150...." See what I mean? So we're not gonna pick on the trailer crowd, sorry.

We're thirsty and so are the bikes, time to exit 80 for the last time in Rawlins, Wyoming. Pulling into the first gas station we see, we jump off our machines and head for the store. We hang out, rehydrate and plot the rest of the days route. It's gonna be good.

Biker friendly and clean, with a pool!

It's mostly two lane from Rawlins to Casper..........the kind of two lanes you see in the movies, stretching to the infinity of the horizon, rising and falling with the contours of the ancient Wyoming badlands. Miles and miles with no fast food joints, strip malls, or Wal-Marts. Just the occasional family farm, oil pump (who knew, oil in Wyoming?) or antelope. OK, as Nate was only too happy to point out (the kids got some good eyes!) the place was practically crawling with antelopes.......and me without a dear whistle (inside joke....Vince!).

Anyway, the riding is absolutely choice (and soon to get even better), sure there are slow pokes to get around, who cares........just another excuse to flog the might V-twins. After about 30 miles the group separates into two with Mark and "JP" setting a more leisurely pace, while Nate, Vince and I wick it up a bit. We regroup in Casper. More gas, and we're on our way to Lusk and a meal and a bed.

Leaving Casper we take Highway 25 south.....more stunning landscapes, and yes, more antelope. Oh, and Republican Presidential hopeful John McCain. Yep, about twenty miles out of town, we pass the Straight Talk Express heading north. Cool. Around Douglas we hop on State Route 20 for the forty mile jaunt to Lusk. If we thought the ride was amazing so far...........oh, man. More remote, more beautiful, more "real American heartland" than I've ever ridden before. A tight group of five of Milwaukee's finest cruising at 75, sweeping through the curves as one........smiles in every helmet.

Pulling into Lusk (pop 1,400.......small town, frozen in time) we check into the Covered Wagon Motel. Clean, neat and very biker friendly. If you're heading this way you could do way worse. They give you towels just to clean your bike.......sweet. Shower off the road grime and its off to the Silver Dollar Bar for an awesome Rib eye, fries and salad. Old school bar, old school customers......great dinner.

Hank and Vince doing a little "bug removal", JP looks on

Back to the room (bloggin for me), pig wrestling for the boys.......I should probably explain that last bit. But it's late and tomorrow we roll into Sturgis and the real fun begins.........stay tuned (assuming someone other than my mom is reading this) after over 1,200 miles the best is right around the bend.........  

Sturgis Or Die, Day Three......Cop? What Cop!?

Day 3

Six o'clock in the morning and there's a light rap at the hotel door, way too early for housekeeping.....maybe one of the slightly wasted Elko high rollers just hit it big on a nickel machine and wanted to share the news. Roll over, not quite time to get up........ten more minutes. The phone!? I pick it up,"......who is this?" "What's up?", the sickeningly upbeat voice chimes from the other end, it's "JP" and the boys are ready to roll, and roll right now!

Packing up.......good bye Elko

Guess all those beers Nate and "JP" downed by the pool the night before hadn't slowed them down a bit........youth, you gotta hate it! They should be draggin' the wagon, instead, along with encouragement from Mark (who as the elder statesman of the group should know better) they badger us to hit the deck and hit the road. This is gonna be a good day.

 It's also a long one, with over 400 miles on tap, the day ending in Rock Springs Wyoming. As we pull out of the Red Lion, the sun is already making its presence known. No jackets today, long sleeves (better than sunblock) and vests are the uniform of the day. Next door is a Chevron, we roll over to fill up. The plan is to get over 100 miles under our belts before breakfast......that would put us in Windover.

Following Nate

Gassed up, we head out on 80....still smokey, would be really nice to see some blue sky. About forty miles out I spy what looks like a State Trooper in the rear view, pretty far back, and pacing us. "Hey Vince, does that look like a police cruiser", I figured he know (retired cop, remember). "Yeah, looks like." As the miles click by, the cruiser inches closer. I'm last in line so I get the first "inspection", stays right alongside, starring at me and the Road King. Satisfied, the cop moves up to the next in line, Vince. Same routine, on to the next guy. Finally he gets to the front of the line, Mark was heading up the group at this point, and...........he lights us up!

Being solid citizen's and model motorcyclists, we all dutifully pull to the side of the road. The Trooper pulls in behind me. As we get off our bikes, Nevada's finest barks, "back on the bikes, kick stands up....now!" At first I don't get it, in California it's always,"......off the bike, keys in your hand, helmet off!" I'm thinking maybe our numbers are making him just a tad nervous. Kinda cool when you think about it, we're making a cop nervous! Which in and of itself is pretty crazy, because unless you think buying the occasional pay-per-view UFC fight can make one a certified badass, we're all pretty much screwed.............with the exception of Nate. He's the nicest kid you'd ever want to meet, but on looks alone, he qualifies as hardcore biker, hands down, end of story. Yeah, he's the reason for the added security, no doubt.

Confident we're not gonna throw down, and probably not caring if we bolt (can't outrun a radio after all) the cop begins with the questions; "Where ya from?", "Where ya going?" Since Vince and I are the closest, we do all the talking. Remember, everyone has to stay on their motorcycles. We tell him what he wants to know. Finally he gets to the pay off.

"Have you boys had any problems with a big rig, maybe harassing one?" WHAT!? Harassing a big rig!? I can't believe what I'm hearing, he's got to be kidding! He goes on to tell us that a trucker had called in a report of five bikers that were brake-checking trucks. How insane is that? What kind of stupid does a person have to be to try to "harass" an eighteen wheeler with a motorcycle, even five.............that's well beyond the dumbest thing you'd ever do while drunk and in high school. Come on!

We assure John Law that weren't the perps he sought.............his attitude improves, "......have a safe ride to Sturgis, have fun!" And with that, our first brush with the law ends. It ends a bit too quickly.............no photo op, damn.

JP rockin' pop's Dyna

Back on the road, it's an uneventful ride into Windover. Breakfast at the Peppermill, quick fill-up and it's a mind-numbingly dull stint across the Utah salt flats. Ruler straight, white lines disappear with assembly-line like rhythm in the mirrors. Ahead, the horizon resembles molten metal, transforming into asphalt just in time for us to continue on our way. Slight breeze, that's good, the cross winds on this stretch of road can be brutal. On we ride, miles counting down.

Winding our way through Salt Lake City we dodge early commute traffic as we crawl through construction zone after construction zone. Is it just me, or have they been rebuilding this particular maze of concrete since Brigham Young first rolled into town? Get it done people! Can't get through town fast enough.......way to many aggressive cage pilots.

Once safely out of town, the scenery begins to improve, the traffic thins, and the sky is finally a proper shade of blue. It's all good. Into Wyoming, and the ride continues to improve, we're making some time and the weather couldn't be better. The heat we were dreading never really materialized. Our longest leg of the east-bound ride was almost over.

Nate with goodies you just don't find in California

We cruise into Rock Springs around 7:00pm, park the Harleys and check in. We're tired, but spirits are high, not too far from Sturgis now, and tomorrow promises some great riding. Time to eat.......Applebee’s looks good, if for no other reason than it's right across the street. No energy to strike out for the local dining hot spot, maybe tomorrow..............

Ten Things I Know You Don't Know Or Care To Know......I Think

With a nod and a wink to the ubiquitous "Top Ten" lists that have managed to slither their way into our collective consciousness.......from Letterman to People magazine, to your local sportscaster, the damn things are everywhere (Charlie Sheen's top ten house party "do's and don'ts".......come to think about it, that one might be worth a read), and the rather creepily self-absorbed world of "social networking"; I thought, what the hell, I'm gonna do my own "Top Ten" list. That's the "good" news. The bad news? I'm gonna be the "Top Ten" topic.

I know, I know........I threw up a little in my mouth too. And much like you, I can't really muster much interest either, but we've pushed the rock this far........what's a few more feet? But I promise, there will be references to some aspect of motorcycles or motorcycling buried in the following list, really, I swear. So without any further ado, or outright stalling on my part, here we go. Top Ten things you didn't know, or cared.........about me.

1) You never forget your first. For me it was a Taco mini-bike (and you were thinking?!) which belonged to a friend down the block. Mom and dad said "no motorcycles!" while under their roof......and no one could ever confuse this motorized rollerskate for a motorcycle, right? We tore through the streets of our hood, Briggs and Stratton motor wailing, no helmets, darting in and out of parked cars.........daring God or Darwin to intervene. Alas, we both survived, that Taco and me, and my love of all things "two-wheeled" was illegitimately hatched then and there.

2) Trailer trash. Yup, everyone jokes about it, but I've actually lived it. And in Warner Robins Georgia of all places. Wasn't a double wide, and to be honest, I was too young to really remember it, but live in a trailer park we did. Just so my mom doesn't kick my a$$, I will have to admit it was for a very short time, a year and a half I think, as my father was flying out of the nearby Air Force base as a civilian pilot for Air America (yeah, those guys). But I'm gonna claim my white trash street cred anyway.....trailer in, trailer out.

3) Death by any other name. The very first motorcycle I ever owned was a mid seventies vintage Suzuki PE-125, lovingly nickname "The Deathmobile", mostly because it's poor excuse for brakes were years beyond useless. The best that could be hoped for should the need to decelerate rapidly arise was a soft landing. Other notable qualities included a gas tank that leaked more than a White House intern and an exhaust pipe that was literally cracked in half and held together by safety wire weaved through holes drilled into the pipe..........hows that for tuning efficiency!? Oh, and we toted the beast to our various secret riding spots in the back of my '78 Ford Fiesta........hatchbacks rock!

4) Spider-Man, Spider-Man. Yeah, at the risk of playing the geek card, some years back I had amassed one of the largest collections of Spider-Man memorabilia on the west coast, no BS. From original artwork, vintage comics, statues, toys...........catchers mits to toilet paper, if it was Spidey related, I owned it. The collection was even profiled in a local paper..........there went my fifteen minutes. Sadly, most of the goodies have long since been sold off to support more grown up pursuits........like more motorcycles, ah, I mean my daughters college fund........yeah, that's it.

5) Lights, camera, action! As part of my affection for all things Spidey, I even wormed my way into the first Spider-Man movie of the Toby McGuire generation.......yup, "unpaid extra" thank you very much. Spent an entire day in a sound studio, with about 200 other webheads, even got lunch! Honestly an amazing experience......Sam Raimi (director) was awesome, as was the crew. If you look just right in the wrestling scene near the beginning of the flick, you'll see my back......no really, it's me.

6) Almost a spook. Fresh upon graduating from San Francisco State with my BA in Political Science, I applied for work with the CIA......."the company". Went through over six months of psych evaluations, language aptitude tests and face to face interviews, even had an extensive preliminary background check run on myself and close family members. The result? Turned down. Reason? "Too young" for a field operations gig........wasn't my age on the very first application? I'm just saying......must have been something in those background checks. Still, how many people have an official rejection letter from the CIA?

7) Crashing sucks. This is especially true when the motorcycle involved is the first new street bike you've ever owned, a 1982 Honda CB-900F, and you throw it down the road on day one, in front of the dealership. Yup, it doesn't get any more squidly than that my friends. My official story is that the motor "hiccuped" as I pulled out from the parking lot, causing me to lurch across the road, where I came to rest in gravel on the shoulder.....it's my story and I'm sticking to it. For the record, the bike survived with minimal damage.........the same could not be said of my pride.

8) Down the drain. For whatever reason, I get a little uneasy when the old H20 is, shall we say "receding", doesn't matter if it's the surf at the beach, or a bathtub, if the water's going down, I'm getting out. Just the way it is..........and no doubt the reason I never aspired to be a big wave surfer. What would Freud say????

9) Tennis anyone? Can you believe that this hardcore, tattooed (eight all together, thank you very much), Harley-Davidson riding, motorcycle industry "lifer" was once an "A" level tennis player? Sad to say, but true. Played in high school, not particularly well, but worked my tail off  and went on to occupy the top spot for two years at my junior college in both doubles and singles. Lost to the number one junior college player in the state in a tourney........didn't make it very far in the Junior Davis Cup tournaments I played in either. Fun fact. Many years later I ruptured my Achilles tendon playing a pick up game at a local high school with a guy I didn't even know. Fun.

10) Don't bone me man. Try as I might, and to be honest, I don't try very hard, I can't stomach to eat meat off the bone. That's right fellow Chromies, no ribs, no buffalo wings, no fried chicken, and no t-bone steaks. Oh, I'm no vegetarian............give me a nice New York steak any day of the week, or a juicy cheese burger. I just don't dig the skeletal remains. Won't be having it.........come to think about it, I don't even like the stick in a corn dog. Go figure.

Well, that's it, see, we made it out alive. Now you know more than you ever cared to about yours truly, probably about nine to ten more things to be exact.........and the worst part? My mom's gonna be really pissed about the whole trailer park, white trash thing. How about this, the next "Top Ten" we ever do will be the top ten reasons not to do a top ten..........sound good?

Sturgis Or Die, Day Two

Day 2 July 30, 2008

Up bright and early.......no really; early,at least for our crew. Vince was up before 7:30, which for those of you who know him is positively "pre-dawn". Now "JP" was another story. Everyone ready to go, the boy is still under the covers........youth, yeah it's overrated. Still and all, group was wheels up by 9:15, heading east on Highway 80. Our destination, Elko, about a 300 mile jaunt across the Nevada high desert.

Our plan was to put some miles down before we ate. A quick note about food, as any real motorcycle rider knows, it plays a huge part in the planning of any ride, long or short. Where to eat, what to eat, and when to eat are all curcial factors in the days itenerary. And trust me, we're no different. We figured to get well out of the Reno area before we'd park the Harley's and sit down to a yummy breakfast.

As we snaked along the Truckee River the sky began to fill with smoke, distant fires would cause the horizon to do it's best immitation of the San Fernando Valley in 1973 (if you lived there then, you know what I mean) for the entire day. Bummer, it would have been nice to be able to see the hills we knew were just out of sight. Passing trucks, beginning to see other groups of bikes, most heading east, mostly Harley's.........Sturgis bound we surmise.

Denny's just ain't gonna be the same after grubbin' at the Cowpoke

Is it just me or do those damn rain grooves make a bagger feel like it has one or two hinges in the frame?The mighty Road King is not happy. No big deal, but I can't say I enjoy it. Time for gas, we pull off to fill up at a Winnemuca Chevron so we can continue our quest for suitable grub. We have a nice chat with an older guy riding a very trick and well used BMW GS 1200. When we asked where he was going, he whipped out a map and pointed to a spot the read "Minor"......it was a good thirty miles off the Interstate, accessable only by a dirt road. Our friend was well equipped.

The only thing better than the food is Rosa and her crew

Before we get going Mark suggested that we grab a bite in Lovelock, "I know there's a couple of diners in town, should be something good". It's settled, we set sail for Lovelock. Pulling on to what must be Main Street, it's like going back about 60 years......quentessential small (really small) town America. We go a couple of blocks and there it is, on the left, the Cowpoke Cafe. While Rosa was in the kitchen preparing our late morning feast (some of the very best eggs and sausage I've ever tasted....this is a "must stop" if you're passin' through and need some great eats) we chat up three Kiwi's (New Zealander's if you will) that had bought new Harley's (very trick units I might add, one was a Screamin' Eagle Dyna!) on ebay, picked them up in  San Francisco and were riding to Sturgis......great guys, lots of laughs.

Our new Kiwi brothers

Time to go, we've got to make some time so we can be in Elko around dinner time.........starting to get this whole focus on food thing!? One last stop for gas and...........another Kiwi! Seems Nevada is fairly crawling with them. Our new mate Tom is a huge Harley fan, riding to the Rally on a very tricked out 100 Aniversary Road King Classic.....Screamin' Eagle motor, pipes, a license plate signed by Willie G himself!, the whole works..........125 hp at the rear wheel it's owner cheerfully claimed. We swapped some lies, had a few laughs, and it was time to go



Is Mark hiding snacks?



The 120 miles to Elko saw the sky tease us with glimpses of blue, but still mostly cigarette smoke yellow, periodic gusts of a pretty strong crosswind kept the gang from getting too relaxed. Rolled into Elko, slid into the Red Lion just in time for, you guessed it, dinner.

Great day, lots of fun, even learned a few things......always check that your Chatterbox is on the same channel as your buds.......saves a lot of "dial gymnastics". The T-Bag (at least the Tahoe version) has handy straps for carrying off the bike.....thanks Nate, I'd still be dragging the damn thing across the parking lot.