“Potato, potato, potato,” roared the big Harley-Davidson, idling at a stop light in Sturgis. 
Behind us, a line of 50 Harleys roared in from Deadwood, South Dakota.  All sorts of faces sporting every kind of facial and head hair, or lack of hair, added to a colorful entourage.
Harley rider
The rider on a late model Harley looked over at me on my Honda with disdain – while spitting chew of rancid Skoals tobacco between his ventilated front teeth.
“Whar ya’ from pilgrim?” he said gnashing his molars while he adjusted a big ring in his ear.
“Denver,” I said.
 ”When you grow up,” he said, with a snarl, “ride a real bike instead of that sissy, rice burnin’, quiet as a nun on her knees in church, IMPORT – that makes even God look bad.  This country don’t need no more candy-assed ‘you meet the nicest people on a Honda’ bullshit.”
“Yes sir,” I said.  “My next bike will be an All American Harley.”
“Good !” he said, spitting another chunk of cancer-chew from between his lips – as he popped the clutch and roared down the road.
Candy Ass
“Hey Rick,” I yelled.  “Did you hear that?  I’m a candy-ass.”
“That makes me one, too,” Rick lamented with a smile.  “Wish I could be a real man like that character.”
Alaska; twice – in 1980 and 2003
Hard to believe that Rick and I rode for glory to Alaska in 1980 and again in 2003 on these candy-assed Hondas.  On our 20,000 mile ride last summer through 48 states, the Hondas made the trip in good style.
Okay, we rode into Sturgis for the 67th annual rally of the greatest motorcycle extravaganza in the world.  Nothing like it – in heaven or hell !
We headed out of Denver – Ignacio, Sandi, Frosty, Rick and a wild bunch of friends on two wheels. As we cranked the throttles, we headed up I-25 into the rush hour morning traffic.  We witnessed the yellow soup Brown (smog-ozone) Cloud over Denver before turning northeast on I-76 toward the prairie. 
Painful – to think that two million people breathed that toxic air with every breath – all day long and into the night! 
Within minutes, we headed toward South Dakota into thinning traffic.
Not 20 miles out, the road cleared, the sky turned blue and our bikes hummed on adventure highway.  At first, we watched a few turning farm-windmills and cows swishing their tails.  Near Fort Morgan, farms dominated and irrigation systems covered giant 50-acre circles.
Nearly out of Colorado, hawks soared in the skies while a few antelope grazed on thin grasses.  Nice to be away from civilization !  What was humanity thinking when it invented cities over 50,000 people?  Why?
On CO-16, we headed north toward Nebraska. 
Quite a view of old Americana – riding through towns with ’57 Chevy’s, country restaurants, old tractors, turn-of-the-last-century’s school houses – and junk everywhere.  Seems like nice folks arrived on pristine land – only to junk it over with farm machinery, cars and abandoned houses.
Up into Nebraska, we watched huge irrigation systems bring arid land to life with corn, wheat and other crops.  Big tractors spread all sorts of grow-fast chemicals on the crops.  Wheat rippled in waves with light winds blowing in from the west.
We raced along a two lane highway with rolling hills undulating for miles ahead of us.  We stopped for gas.  Another ten bikes stopped with us.  A bumper sticker read, “I listen to the voices in my pants; they tell me what to do.” 
The closer we got to Sturgis, motorcycles grew thicker than hair on a dog.  “Potato, potato, potato” they idled.  Thunder and lightning howled when they took off !
North we go
Well into northwest Nebraska, we moved into small hills that turned into mountains until we gained more altitude.  The road swerved, turned, dipped and dove like a wild snake curling through the terrain. 
We rolled the grips left and right while swooping through valleys filled with trees. 
Towns along the way proved “Mayberry RFD” with friendly folks and plenty of vendors.  Riding our bikes proved riding in time machines where we passed antique dealers, farm implement barns, old museums and broken down abandoned farms. 
What’s it like – riding through the serpentine curves ? 
I’d bet most of you saw Tom Cruise in “Top Gun” – a hot-dog, with his bike and his jet. 
I swear – piloting a motorcycle into the curves produces a feeling of flying – touched with magic that meshes your brains with your body like nothing else.  You feel the engine pulsing beneath you – flavored with power. 
We passed the “Stonehenge of Cars” along the highway.  Some dude constructed a bunch of junk cars into the same shape as England’s ancient ” Stonehenge” display. 
Custer, South Dakota
Further along, we passed into Custer, South Dakota.  They restricted the Main Street for motorcyclists only.  Out in the intersection, General George Armstrong Custer, standing 6’3″ tall, with yellow hair and buckskin leathers and tall black boots along with his revolver in his holster welcomed bikers. 
Sandi got off the bike and pranced on up to him and his other soldiers – waving an Army Calvary flag for a great photo-shot.
Cave of the Winds National Park
We rode through Cave of the Winds National Park where we saw buffalo and more antelope.  Some damned fool tried to drive his bike up to the buffalo for a shot, but the park ranger sent him packing.
Rick and Ignacio decided to see Mount Rushmore National Monument, to check off their list of ‘things to do’ while in Sturgis.  We rolled over to sculptor Gutzon Borglum’s genius masterpiece – that draws millions of people every year. 
Our four greatest presidents – Teddy Roosevelt, Thomas Jefferson, George Washington and Lincoln – stand out proudly from a mountain, for all to see. 
Not far away, a developing tribute to Chief Crazy Horse grows more distinct with the passing years.  Sculptor Korczak Ziolkowski and Lakota Chief Henry Standing Bear officially started Crazy Horse Memorial June 3, 1948.   The Memorial’s mission is to honor the culture, tradition and living heritage of North American Indians.  I hope it finishes before I die – so I can see it completed, too.  
Monuments remind us
While standing at the two monuments, I can’t help my concern for our country in 2007 – and hope that another great leader takes the reigns of this country and guides it toward a more positive future.
At dusk, we stopped at the “Route 16 Diner” for a fun food fest surrounded by pictures of Elvis, Brando and Marilyn Monroe.  We sat in a vinyl covered booth with a sassy blond waitress – who forgot Rick’s food. 
Later, outside, we walked into thunderheads blazing with the last rays of the sun glancing off their edges.  They moved across the heavens with spectacular beauty – as if a master artist dashed a touch of strawberry here and splashed a touch of gray back-lit with gold there; and finally, moved them into a symphony of colors waving good-bye to the day.
Sturgis; Hog-Heaven – Biker’s mecca
An hour and a half later, under an ink black sky dotted with stars, we rolled into “Hog Heaven.”   Bikes and bikers – everywhere.   In the distance, we heard a Janis Joplin sound-alike singing near the tents on a stage. Vendors spread across the campground.  Harley-Davidson’s roared or “potatoed” all over the place. 
We rode the only Hondas in sight for miles.  We feared for our lives !  We suffered mild indignation and mental torture for being misfit unmanly sissy bike riders.  Ignacio drove a big bike that sounded like a Harley – so he spared himself such embarrassment !
Home away from home
We pitched the tents, walked over to the band area, bought beers and settled down to Janis Joplin – mysteriously singing in 2007.  That gal proved down-and-dirty – and really good.  I tipped my beer to clink with Rick’s and we smiled. 
We shared a history of some pretty amazing moments on our bikes – not unlike being “Hyderized” in Alaska, the Bear Glacier, Salmon Glacier, Denali at dusk and dawn, grizzlies, Yukon and Beyond song, Rain Song Blues, Bear Song, Give Me Forty Acres, Arctic Circle, Seward, Homer, gold rush, midnight sun and living the dream. 
We know the wild, tenacious wind, the rain and the freedom on our bodies & machines.
This moment lasts forever
“It don’t get no better n’ this,” I said with a smile.
“You can say that again,” Rick said with a grin.
Sandi and I got up for a few dances on the dance floor – what a woman !.  Sandi took a shower before that, so she was happily clean and sparkling.  She walked over to a vendor to buy a ‘do’ for her head.  Got a real nice one, too.
South Dakota morning
Next morning, we got up for breakfast in town.  We headed into the thickening crowd of bikes pouring into Sturgis.  Gradually, 500,000 bikers arrive and turn that town into the noise capitol of the world.  Over $12 million changes hands in nine days. 
For six blocks, Main Street gets cordoned off for bikers only. 
Every kind of bike rides down the ‘gauntlet’ to be seen.  Pretty ladies on Harleys ride to show off their bodies, their hair, their legs, their… – well, you know. 
Something for everyone
Some guys ride motorcycles that resemble the Star Ship Enterprise, a buffalo, an easy chair, ’57 Cadillac, John Deere tractor, and, well, every kind of creative bike possible.  At any-one time, there must be hundreds of millions of dollars in bikes on that street.
Tattoo shops abound.  One gal, a 21 year old pretty blond – stood up on a chair, showing off her body – nearly covered with tattoos that swirled up around her neck.  I anguished at the disfigurement of her body, but she gloried in everyone looking at her. 
Mostly, it seems – when the tattoo contest ends, everyone feels sorry for the winner.  However, that’s another world – and God bless everyone’s choices.  
Sturgis; Stroll along Main Street
As we walked down the streets, vendors sold anything and everything having to do with food, bikes, apparel, trinkets, bumper stickers and T-shirts.  We walked down the main row where many $70,000 bikes stood for sale. 
Three women, wearing next-to-nothing – offered every guy a chance to model for photos with them.  For those who saw “Cool Hand Luke” – get his front cover picture with those two babes – well, Sturgis guys enjoyed some pretty provocative shots with those three models.  “What a country !” Rick yelled. 
I, of course, being with my gorgeous wife, Sandi, closed my eyes so as not to be tempted.  “I can resist everything but temptation,” I said.
Ladies and ladies and ladies…
One lady, dressed in short shorts, strolled with a fox tail pinned to her rear end while wearing cowboy boots – walked by us.  She exposed more of her chest than was humanly possible and still stay legal.  Bet she belonged to a nudist colony in her spare time. 
Another dude stood on the roadside blowing up balloons into all sorts of decadent shapes that would make a nun blush and a priest take confession right there on the street.  Several girls, called the “Washing Babes,” wore tiny black bikini outfits and promised to wash your bike to make it “real clean.” 
Once again, I saw the “Tony the Tiger Lady.”   She wore a bikini, but on her back, in orange and black, she sported a tattoo of Tony the Tiger.  His front feet and claws ran up the back of her arms while his back legs ran down her legs.  Tony’s tail wound around her right leg – all the way to her ankle.  “My God,” I said.  “She tattooed her whole body with a tiger.” 
As Rick said, “Everybody in Sturgis is trying real hard to be noticed.”
The big bikes sparkled at close to $100K each – while many other vendors featured trailers, custom wheels and even lounge chairs that would massage your entire body.  Sandi took a 15 minute massage – with sheer delight.
Around noon, we decided to make a run around the loop to Deadwood – and sit for a drink where Wild Bill Hickok got himself shot in a card game.  We raced out to the expressway – where thousands of bikes roared along under blue skies and mountain peaks. 
We cut off at Spearfish Canyon – where we rolled through a beautiful river gorge – complete with Bridal Veil Falls.  Thousands of bikes rolled both ways – as the steady roar of Harleys permeated the air.
Deadwood, South Dakota
Deadwood proved as crowded as a New York City street at rush hour !   Even though the Homestake open-pit Gold Mine has stopped production, it dominates the landscape.  
We walked down the street to the saloon where Wild Bill met his maker.  We sat right where the gunfire took place – and the man became a legend. 
Rick grabbed a Guinness and Ignacio grabbed a Bud.  I, of course, grabbed a sarsaparilla and lemonade – while everyone made fun of me.  Well, if I ride a Honda Gold Wing, I’ve got a right to be a sissy.
A fellow traveler entertained us
One bar lizard told us a few jokes that had me laughing  so hard tears fell from my eyes.  Funniest joker I ever met.  Just plain funny as hell!  You had to be there to hear the one about a guy who puked all over himself, but then stuck a $10 bill in his pocket to explain to his wife that it was another guy who did it and gave him the money to clean his shirt.  From there, well, it goes down hill into debauchery….
We ate dinner at a casino before heading off to Sturgis. 
The ride down that canyon snaked for 15 miles of fabulous riding.  Perfect temperature, bikes snaking along both coming and going, sky blazing with the setting sun overhead and my friends in front and back.  Sandi held on tight and I smiled at our good fortune.
Campground, “home” again
Back in camp, we headed back into Sturgis for the insane, wild and crazy people watching, bikes and celebration. 
As mentioned, nothing about Sturgis proves normal.  We enjoyed a mile wide grin on our faces for three days!  So many people walking the streets – with so many aberrant body additions, punctures, rings, piercing, tattoos and apparel — making it tragedy, comedy, parade and nut house – all rolled into one.
We rolled back to “Hog Heaven” where we stuck ear plugs in our ears and  dozed off to sleep – with the roar of motorcycles, bands playing and “potato, potato, potato” ringing in our ears.
Sandi and Frosty take their leave
Next morning, we woke up, packed up and bid a fond adieu to Ignacio and Rick.  They would ride around for several days more – to see the sights. 
For me, seeing Rick and hearing about his great kids – and Connie doing so well – made for renewal of a great friendship.  I’ve known Rick since he was 23 – for our great ride to Alaska.  Since then, he’s raised three tremendous kids.  Rick and Connie can take a bow. 
Scott, who rode to Alaska in 2003, has turned into a highly talented singer, piano player, song writer with his own CDs selling and a fabulous future in entertainment.  His two daughters graduated from college and pursue their own great careers. 
In the end-game, we are here for the kids
For parents to offer the world great kids proves the greatest gift to them, and civilization.
Sandi’s two sons provide a loving reminder for us.
We said good-bye to Ignacio and Rick.  “Ya’ll come see us ya’ hear,” I said.  “We’ll leave the light on for ya’.”
Sturgis in our rear-view mirrors
With Sturgis behind us, we rolled down the highway with a hundred bikes coming at us – and another group of 50 along with us.  Bikes outnumbered cars 100 to 1.  Nothing like it on earth – and it’s All American.
Miles later, we stopped at a western buffet setting on the side of a valley between mountains.  Gosh, we enjoyed a fabulous breakfast bar.  Once full, we hardened ourselves for some stiff riding. 
The mountains fell away as we headed west toward Wyoming and I-25. 
Desecration, but why?
Sad to me that so many towns leave their wrecked cars, farm machinery and junk of all descriptions to create ugly scars across once pristine country.  Can’t figure out why humans care so little for the land and its sacredness.
Once on I-25, heading south – we saw thousands of bikers heading toward Sturgis.  “Glad we aren’t there after today,” I said to Sandi. 
“Yeah,” she said, “they’ll be stuck in gridlock cement in Sturgis for their entire stay.  Won’t be much fun when they can’t move – because of so many people !”
Rain gear
As we rolled through the day, thunder clouds threatened late in the afternoon.  We pulled over and jumped off the bike to suit up. 
Within a few miles of Longmont, Colorado, lightning blasted across the eastern sky.  Rain slammed into us at 70 mph.  Within ten miles, we broke back into sunshine. 
By 6:00 p.m., we headed into the driveway with lots of memories, pictures and a great weekend with Rick and Ignacio, and a cast of thousands. 
Sturgis; the legend, the happening, the celebration! 
In your lifetime, whether your ride a bike or not, take a trip up to Sturgis to see one of the greatest American moments.  It’s like nothing you’ve ever done.  It’ll put a smile on your face and a whole lot of amazing pictures in your album. 
And remember, “Good girls go to heaven; bad girls go to Sturgis… which, by the way, makes me a lucky man!”
..