Sturgis '09: The Black Hills Rally; Epilogue

Saturday, August 8th was a beautiful day, at least in the morning. Jay and I went down to the strip so we could check things out in the light of day for a change. We also took advantage of the opportunity to do our last bit of shopping for both ourselves and the folks back home. We took some more pictures, got something to eat, and arranged to meet up with Tom and his dad again. Our last day of riding would take us to the Crazy Horse Memorial in the Black Hills.


I'm embarrassed to admit I knew nothing of this immense project until Tom and his father recommended it as one of the things we should see while in Sturgis. In short, begun in June of 1948 by sculptor Korczak Ziolkowski ( a native of Boston by the way), the Crazy Horse memorial is the world's largest mountain sculpture. When completed it will dwarf Mount Rushmore and in my opinion will likely become a modern "Wonder of the World." Funded entirely from private donations, there is much Native American history and a great story connected with this memorial, so I urge you to click the link above and check out their website for more information.


This is a scale model (approx 1/34 the size of the mountain) of what the memorial will look like when completed. Even though Korczak himself died in 1982, his wife and children continue his work from this and many other scale models he left behind. As it has taken all these years just to complete the face, it is unlikely I will live to see the memorial completed, but I hope my kids will be able to take their kids to see this amazing human achievement one day. After touring this awesome memorial, we wanted to hit the Wildlife Loop in Custer State Park next to wrap up the day, but the sky was turning BLACK. Knowing how wild the weather can get, and how fast, we thought it best to head back to Sturgis pronto. We caught rain from Deadwood back to town, but we had raingear so it wasn't bad.

The morning of Sunday the 9th arrived and it was time to pack up. It was raining hard, so we asked for and got a late check out from the Star Lite. By noon the rain had passed and as we rode out of Sturgis for final time in '09, the sun came back out for the beginning of our journey East. Near Presho, the rain came back for a short time, but it didn't last. We made it to Mitchell, SD, for our first night's stay at a Best Western, and had our best road meal of the whole trip across the way at Chef Louie's Steak House and Lounge. I had some pan sauteed Walleye that was probably the best piece of fish I've ever had in my life. I know - why order fish in a steak house? I just had to have some seafood after way too much red meat in Sturgis.


Our next night got us stuck in Wisconsin Dells, "the Waterpark Capitol of the World." Believe me when I say that a honky-tonk, 'tourist trap' was the last place we wanted to spend the night, but the sunset overruled us. Jay and I were shocked to find that the nearest watering hole to our Day's Inn was a place called Nig's Bar. My first thought was, "Nig's?? You've got to be kidding me." At the bar, we noticed they sold tee shirts that read, I HAD A SWIG AT NIG'S - click the link to go to their website where you can buy one if you want. Jay and I were horrified. Wear a shirt in or near Boston that says "Nig's" on it, or any other fascimile of the "N" word, and you're just asking to get beaten to death, stabbed or shot.

Come to find out, it depends what part of the country you hail from as to just how much you think you know about people. Jay told me he knew someone who went to Wisconsin to visit either friends or family, and he got off the plane wearing a shirt that had "Mook's Hockey Club" written across the front of it. "Mook" is defined by Webster's as "slang : a foolish, insignificant, or contemptible person." Well, Webster's notwithstanding, I guess whoever met him at the airport was horrified, pulled him to one side and said:

"What the hell are you doing? You have to turn that tee shirt inside-out right now...quick...before somebody sees it!"

Of course this guy had no idea why his shirt would be offensive to anyone and demanded an explanation. Well, apparently in that part of the midwest, "mook," is considered a derogatory reference to black people. I'd never heard that either. So, under the circumstances, we thought it best to leave the Nigs in Wisconsin Dells (we didn't buy a shirt), and the Mooks in Boston. I still laugh when I think about it. After a few "swigs at Nig's," we found a restaurant across the way where we got a good meal, and made it back to our room without incident.


By the end of the day on Tuesday the 11th we had made it to Maumee, Ohio. Luck stayed with us for eateries, and we enjoyed another great meal and a few beers at a Buffalo Wild Wings Restaurant. I hope they open up some franchises in Mass; it's a good place. As an added bonus, the Red Sox were playing Detroit, so we got to watch the game on the widescreen at the bar!

Our last day on the road, Wednesday the 12th, was a little crazy. We wanted to make Canajoharie, NY so we could enjoy another evening at the Charter House, but it was over 530 miles away. After riding 500 miles, we were in Utica and daylight was short, so we decided to stay there. We didn't know there was some monster truck show or something in town. There were no rooms available, so we got back on the highway and rode like hell for Canajoharie, but some things just aren't meant to be. Something made me call the restaurant while stopped for gas, they were closed, daylight was all but gone, and we were in heavy deer country. We didn't want another night at the dumpy Rodeway Inn since our restaurant was closed, so we decided to go one more exit.

Rapidly fading daylight left us no choice but to pull off in Fultonville, making our total for the day just over 550 miles. We were tired, hungry, and hoping our luck for finding lodging with a good restaurant nearby would hold out for one more night. It didn't take long for us to realize our luck had run out. There were two choices for rooms, and we went to the Econo Lodge first. This nasty guy with greasy hair in a wife-beater and sandals comes out of the office while we're still on the bikes, looks at us and says, "Rooms?"

I nodded - hesitantly - and Nasty Guy comes back with, "Well I can give you a room, but there's no water. We had a pipe break or something and I had to shut it all off."

Jay and I just looked at each other. Could it get any worse? Unfortunately, the answer was "Yes, it can."

The only other lodging available was a TravelCenters of America truck stop down the street. They charged us $68 for a room that made the dumpy Rodeway Inn of Canajoharie look like the freaking Ritz in comparison. Huge stains on the worn carpet greeted us when we opened the door, and I wouldn't have been surprised to see a chalk-outline of a body on the floor. The air conditioner cover was broken and hanging off the unit. It smelled like a wet ashtray. Neither of us were brave enough to turn down the beds - never mind get into them - we just slept on top fully dressed. Yes it was that bad, but at least there was nothing else moving in the room besides us, not that I could see anyway. There was no steak house across the street either. We ate at a McDonald's. Take my advice, if you're ever traveling through New York State on I-90, stay away from there.

The only good thing about staying in Fultonville was that we were now only 200 miles from home. We got up and out of the No-Tell Motel early Thursday morning, and at least Fultonville can boast they have a Dunkin' Donuts. I hadn't had a decent cup of coffee in a week. That's the one thing I don't understand about other parts of this country; how can people live anywhere that a good cup of joe isn't to be found? Anyway, we had some rain for our last leg of the ride home, but it wasn't bad. Seeing the Welcome To Massachusetts sign was a great comfort, even though it does say Deval Patrick, Governor, on it.

I called Susan from a rest area on the Mass Pike and was able to meet her for lunch at her work. When I got off the bike in the parking lot she came out of her building and into my arms. I had missed her terribly, and it was wonderful to hold her close again. I wasn't real big on her co-workers spying on us from behind the darkened office building glass, but after nearly 2 weeks away, I didn't really care who was watching. When Susan's lunch time was up I headed home, grateful to unload all that bullshit from my bike for the last time. After a nice shower and some clean clothes I unpacked and relaxed while I waited for Susan to come home from work. It had been an amazing trip, but just like Dorothy says in The Wizard of Oz..."there's no place like home..."

Thanks to all of you who took the time to come along with me virtually on this ride. All I can say is that for those of you who ride and keep saying you want to "do Sturgis someday," DO IT!! If you wait, all that will happen is you'll get older. All the rest of my pictures are in my last slideshow. Enjoy it, and please, Ride Safe...

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Sturgis '09: The Black Hills Rally; Part 3

Thursday the 6th was a recovery day for the most part. The last big push of riding to get into Sturgis the day before, followed by a wild, late night at One Eyed Jacks, called for sleeping in. By the time we got going it was lunch time and we grabbed something at a little place up the street. Then we hooked up with Tom and took a nice leisurely ride into the hills outside of Sturgis, eventually looping around and ending up in Deadwood. Deadwood is a really cool little town. It was the center of the Black Hills gold rush of the 1870s, and is where western legend Wild Bill Hickok was murdered. He is still buried there, alongside the infamous Calamity Jane.


I was still a little fuzzy from the night before, so of course I left my camera in my saddlebag and didn't realize it until we had walked quite a ways into town. If not for my bad ankle I probably would've run back and gotten it, but I said screw it. We checked out a few places, shops, bars and so forth. After a few beers we were getting hungry so we figured we'd have dinner there. Upstairs from a casino we found an excellent restaurant and sat down to a great steak dinner. After that it was back to Sturgis and a few more beers down on the strip. We took a break from One Eyed's and tried a few other bars along the strip, including the Dungeon, which was like partying in somebody's basement.

When I went out the next morning, Friday the 7th, my bike was looking pretty sad, just caked with bugs and mud and grime from the road. I had noticed a Bikini Bike Wash down the street, and it didn't take huge prodding from me to get Jay to agree to head down there with me.


Note the look of satisfaction on his face as he realizes he can start the day's riding off on a nice clean bike!













While my Springer was being bikini washed, I noticed this cool looking Boss Hoss in the parking lot.








These bad boys have a GM V8 engine, 8.5 gallon fuel tank, reverse gear, and weigh in at about 1,300 pounds. It's not a bike I would want for myself, but they are definitely an attention-getter.

With the bikes clean and ready to go, we headed back to the motel to meet Tom and his Dad, who were going to be leading the ride today. I have to mention how cool it was that they were out there and that we hooked up with them. Having been there several times before, they knew the area really well, and were more than happy to be our tour guides. That was so cool, because without them, Jay and I would have spent far too much time pulling over and looking at maps. We were heading to see Mount Rushmore, ride the Iron Mountain and Needles Highways, and go through Custer State Park. When we arrived at the Pactola Dam and Resevoir, we were barely off the bikes when another pack pulled in that was obviously all HOG members. When I saw their patches I was blown away...


Switzerland! And I thought I'd come a long way to get to Sturgis...how cool is this? It is true I saw HOG members from other countries, even Australia and the UK, when I was in Milwaukee last year, but it never ceases to amaze me just how far bikers will go to be a part of something special.


Me, with the Brothers and Sisters from the Ticino Chapter of South Switzerland, Harley Owners Group. This is what it's all about folks.

There are WAY too many pictures to keep going on this way - I'd be on the computer for 3 days. Slide show time!

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The end of the day's riding in the mountains took us back through Hill City, where we stopped for a few beers and some dinner. After that it was a long ride back to Sturgis by way of Deadwood. Come to find out it was lucky for us that we were so far out of town that day. We returned to find out that a severe storm had come through Sturgis during the day, dumping a deluge of wind-driven baseball-sized hail, and doing lots of damage. Some bikes had broken windshields, speedomters, and dented gas tanks. Many of the outside vendors had damage to merchandise, and even a few broken cash registers. Some of the roads at the campgrounds were washed away, and from what I heard a few tents went with them. Very much relieved to have missed that, we had a few nightcaps in the room and called it a night.

Next Up: Our last day at the rally takes us to the Crazy Horse Memorial, and then we head for home...

Hell Has a New Tenant

I interrupt my Sturgis report with an event I've been looking forward to celebrating for years.

It was 40 years too late as far as I'm concerned, but Edward Moore Kennedy has finally been called to account for his crimes.

Like with Jacko, we must now endure several days of listening to fools praise the last patriarch of the most foul, corrupt and indecent "family" in the history of American politics. We will hear much ado about how he fought for the common man, civil rights, health care, blah, blah, blah, but...

...there will barely be any mention of Chappaquiddick, for the liberal press will surely wince at the idea of having to speak of it at all. I already saw a "look back at his legacy" on the news this morning. It was 99% wonderful "man of the people," and 1% killer. I'm sure many of you who read this may have to Google it, especially if you are a Massachusetts Democrat. Here in Moscow-on-the-Charles, a Kennedy could slit a woman's throat on the steps of the State House, live on television, and the sheep would still line up at the polls to check off the box next to the big "D." A homeless person or Level-3 sex offender could easily win a seat as a State Representative here if his name just happened to be Kennedy. I'm not exaggerating either - unfortunately.

He passed before finally realizing his "dream" of universal health care, and I couldn't be happier. Socialized medicine may be a great idea in theory, but like with most liberal ideology, it ignores how to pay for it. With most working people already seeing nearly 40% of their pay being withheld by the government and a deficit in the trillions, the last thing we need is higher taxes to provide free health care to all the drug addicts and illegal aliens out there. Since 1990, 70+ hospital ERs and trauma centers in California have been forced to close because by law they are mandated to treat anyone who comes in the door, regardless of their ability to pay. I betcha can't guess who the majority of those patients are, right? Right.

The Liberal Lion is gone. I prefer to remember him as a man who grew up on the beaches of Cape Cod, was renowned as an accomplished yachtsman, and left a young girl to die inside his car in a mere 10 feet of water. He waited 10 hours to report it (shocking - he wasn't drunk at all - nah!) and the authorities neatly covered it up and made it go away. Had you or I done that we'd have gone away until we were gray. Of course, the morally bankrupt voters of Massachusetts re-elected him to the Senate anyway, and I have endured his hypocrisy all my adult life. Thank goodness it is over.



There is finally justice for Mary Jo. She was somebody's daughter.

Sturgis '09: The Black Hills Rally; Part 2

Location is everything. I camped last year in Milwaukee and it wasn't bad, but this time I wanted to be more comfortable. There's just something about having your own bathroom and a real bed for 4 days instead of a tent, gang shower and port-a-johns. If I was 25 I probably wouldn't care so much about roughing it, but between my bad ankle and the stories I've heard about how wild the weather can suddenly get in Sturgis, this time it was a no-brainer. My wingman was completely on the same page with me, so we forked out the extra cash 7 months ago to reserve our room here at the Star Lite Inn.


I love a room with a view, don't you? The one with the open door is ours. It wasn't huge, but it was clean, comfortable, and the maids were really great. Just 8 short blocks from Main Street, or "the strip," the Star Lite was in a great location. It was fairly small and everybody there was a biker, so there were no concerns at all about the bikes overnight. We were able to walk to the strip, though that got old for me after a few times because coming back it was all uphill. The highway out of town was also just a few minutes away.

The bikes all lined up in front of our Motel

After we had settled in I let fellow Blackstone Member Tom Grimes know I was in town. Tom and his father really do Sturgis the old fashioned way, taking three weeks to ride out and back through the roads less traveled. They had already been in town for a few days and were camping at Glencoe. Tom texted me he was at One Eyed Jack's Saloon and that we should get our asses down there P.D.Q. It was time to hit "the strip." Iowa Harley Girl had also texted me she'd be over at The Knuckle with her husband for a band playing at 9. I was figuring we'd go check in with Tom first and then head over there a little later, but unfortunately it didn't work out that way and I'd regret it later.


Walking down the street one of the first things you notice is the little tent cities in some people's yards, especially the closer you get to Main Street. The lettering on the sign didn't come out, but what's funny about this picture is that it's a dentist's office! I really thought that was a riot. You have to figure they're open during the day...and then try to picture patients walking up the steps past these tents to go in the door...hey, anything for a buck, right?

I tried to take a little video when we arrived down on the strip, but it came out lousy in the dark and I ended up deleting it. Here's a short clip of Main Street I took 3 days later, and not anywhere near as busy as it was on my first night:




This is the famous (or infamous, depending on your point of view) One Eyed Jack's Saloon, even though once again you can't read the sign. They also have so many vendors all around the place that you can hardly see it. The good thing about that though was one of the biggest vendors were the guys on the outdoor grill. Anytime you wanted until the bar closed you could go over there and get a burger, or better yet my favorite, the delicious steak sandwich.


OEJ's is so huge that I don't think I would ever have found Tom in there if we didn't have our cell phones. We were downstairs at one of several huge bars and all the bartenders were women, walking around in either bikinis or bras and panties, or combinations of both. When Jay and I finally hooked up with Tom, I told him I understood now why he choose this bar to hang in. Tom just laughs at us and says, "This is nothing; we need to go upstairs." The next few seconds were what is known in literature as a pregnant pause, followed by "Alrighty then!"

Now we come to the part that my lovely and vivacious girlfriend Susan has been suffering in angst over for the last 3 weeks. Sturgis at night isn't a church picnic, and when I got to the top of those stairs there was no doubt about it. I know this is what most of you have been waiting for, but I do have two things to say first: 1. I think there are WAY more women out there who are into other women than would care to admit it, and 2. NONE of these little tarts you're about to see has anything on my Susan!

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That concludes the T&A portion of my Sturgis report, because I didn't ride nearly 2,000 miles to sit and watch strippers. As hip as the bar scene is out there, the real appeal is the riding. I've ridden all over New England, across the Midwest, across Florida, and in the Sonoran Desert, but there is nothing quite like the Black Hills of South Dakota. Now I realize more than ever just how much our forebears screwed over the American Indian, and why they didn't take kindly to said screwing. To them this place was sacred - a word that's lost a great deal of meaning over the years - a word I understand far better now.

Next Up: Saddle up - we're going for a RIDE...

Sturgis '09: The Black Hills Rally; Part 1

After 4 and a half days and nearly 2,000 miles of hard riding, this was the sign that greeted me when I finally arrived in the legendary City of Sturgis, South Dakota. It was spine-tingling as I passed under the banner and headed slowly down Junction Ave in a parade of iron horses. The low rumble of Harley V-twins was a constant presence all around me, and would be for the next four days, as bikes were literally everywhere. There were thousands and thousands of them - mostly Harleys, but there were representations of just about every make and model of motorcycle you can name out there. I almost felt a little sorry for the metrics that you couldn't even tell were running as they were drowned out by Milwaukee iron, custom choppers, and even a few Boss Hoss V-8s.


I wear this same patch on my vest. To me, it represents more than just another biker cliché. Those of us who really love to ride find these to be some of the truest words ever spoken, so before I get into the rally, I'm going to talk about the ride out. My friend and HOG brother Jay O'Leary was the only one who made the trip with me. Long-time readers may remember him from my ride to the 105th in Milwaukee last year. We got somewhat of a late start on Saturday, August 1st, so we only did a wimpy 200 miles or so on our first day out. We stopped in Canajoharie, NY, a little town off I-90 about halfway between Albany and Syracuse, ending up at the mercy of the only place to stay at that exit.

The Rodeway Inn we pulled into looked like your typical fifty-buck-a-nite motor lodge where you park right outside the door to your room, which I actually prefer when on my bike. Jay and I nearly shit when the guy in the office told us it would be $115 for the night! The guy was trying to tell us the rate was so high because we were in a "touristy" area, but that was crap. The only thing near this place was the Erie Canal - big deal. The Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown was about 35 miles away, but I still didn't think that rated over a C-note to stay in this shithole. Unfortunately, it was getting dark by this time so we really had no choice. Motorcycle on highway + dark + Bambi = at best Hospital, and at worst the eternal dirtnap.

They say everything happens for a reason, and even though we paid more to stay in this dump than anyplace else on the trip, we didn't end up regretting it. The one good thing the thieving desk clerk did for us was point us to the Charter House Restaurant just over the line in Fort Plain. Run by Georgene and Joe Rosemeyer for the past 35 years, this local gem is where you want to stop if you find yourself traveling through the area. We sat down at the bar inside and in no time at all the Rosemeyer's hospitality made us feel like we were regulars in the place. We had huge, delicious shrimp cocktails, followed by melt-in-your-mouth prime rib. When I asked how late the liquor store next door was open til, Joe said, "We own that too. Why? Do you want something from over there?"

I told Joe I wanted a bottle of Jack for a nightcap in the room later.

"No problem," he said, picking up the phone. In 5 minutes there's a kid standing behind the bar with my bottle. All I had to do was pay him, and I never got up from my stool. You'd have a better chance of seeing God than having that kind of service experience in Massachusetts. I couldn't believe it.

The next thing we know, the place is basically closed, and Jay and I are sitting there drinking with the owners and a few of the waitresses. Joe had bought us a round, and was going to buy us one for the road when we were about to leave, but we declined because we knew we'd had enough and had to ride the bikes back to the "palace" we were staying in. Still, the offer itself was the icing on the cake for the night. I've dropped more than a couple of Ben Franklin's in the Boneyard over the last 18 months or so, and if Blackstone ever got a round on the house, I wasn't there for it. Great food and even better hospitality makes it no surprise that the Charter House has been going strong since the 1970s. We tried to stop there for dinner on our way back too, but unfortunately when we called ahead we found out they were closed that night. Thank you Georgene and Joe - I will be back again sometime.

Most of Sunday was spent in New York - it is one LONG state to ride across. 375 more miles (130 of which were in pretty heavy rain) took us out of NY, through about 50 miles of Pennsylvania, and into Ohio. We stopped in Geneva for the night, found a reasonably priced room right off the highway, and there was a steak house across the street. We enjoyed another great dinner, though the atmosphere wasn't as good as the spoiling we enjoyed at the Charter House. I was starting to realize by now that time was precious on this trip. You'd think I'd have had all the time in the world, but in reality riding at least 400 miles a day is go-go-go. That makes it tough trying to keep in touch with those at home. Stopping for gas, there are just a few minutes to make a quick call or send a text. Stop for the night, get all the gear off the bike, and it's time to go eat. When dinner's over, it's after 10 at night or later.


Monday morning we got back on 90 West and pulled into the first service plaza for gas. All the service plazas in Ohio look exactly like this one, even though you can't tell from the picture that this particular one is on fire. It actually made the paper - the article is here if you want to check it out. We had seen white smoke coming from the roof when we pulled in, but we figured it was just the food court exhaust hoods. Nope. We park, start walking towards the doors, and people are coming out telling us there's a fire inside. Unbelievable!


Whatever it was, maintenance or restaurant employees must have mostly extinguished it themselves, because there was no more smoke coming from the place by the time the Jakes arrived. We were at least able to gas up, Jay was forced to pee in the woods at the far end of the truck parking lot, and we were back on the road again.


I never really appreciated just how BIG the United States is until I started riding across it on a motorcycle, and as long as this trip was I still haven't made it from coast-to-coast. Once you really get out there, much of it is like you see here - just a big, long, flat stretch in front of you. In some places where there's little or no other traffic, as Jay remarked, "It's like riding on an airport runway."


This is what I probably saw the most of - CORN - and lots of it. Some of these farms by the interstate are so huge that the cornrows seem to go on for miles and miles as far as you can see. As we tore through Ohio and Indiana, I kept thinking about that funny YouTube video about Iowa, "Corn, corn, corn...corn, corn, corn...LOOK...A TREE!...corn, corn, corn..."

Last year en route to Milwaukee, we met some guys from Illinois while staying overnight in Indiana who told us to avoid going through Chicago, and we took their advice. Against our better judgment we were lazy this time, and went straight through the city on I-90 instead of stopping to plot a go-around route. How's that rush hour traffic downtown treating you? Yeah - it was a bad idea. It was my second time in the Windy City, and I was again overwhelmed by just how damned BIG it is. Boston would probably fit into it two or three times. Undaunted by the brutal traffic, and encouraged by picking up an extra hour crossing into the Central Time Zone, we pushed on through Illinois and really kicked ass. We made it to Madison, Wisconsin at sundown, for a day's total of nearly 540 miles. We got a decent rate at a Day's Inn and found a Buffalo Wild Wings just down the road to eat and have a few beers, but we were pretty beat so it was an early night.

On Tuesday we crossed the mighty Mississippi River (a first for me) and spent the lion's share of the day in Minnesota, the ONLY state we traveled through where I didn't see any State cops on the road. Ohio and Indiana were absolutely peppered with them. It's nice to see a state that doesn't believe in hassling people for speeding through miles and miles of dead-flat farmland, even though the posted limit is only 65. What a joke that is - any less than 75 and you'd feel like you were crawling. That's such a sharp contrast to here in Mass where the über-hypocritical State Police are worse drivers than civilians are, doing 90+ on the highway when it's not an emergency, tailgating people, changing lanes without signaling, etc. I guess that's what happens when nobody watches the watchers, but I digress.

Our goal was to make it over the South Dakota border, and we did. A 430+ mile day got us into Sioux Falls by nightfall. Again, we lucked out with a reasonable room rate and a good eatery within walking distance. We were enjoying a few after-dinner cocktails in this nice little Sports Bar and Casino when Jay got hit on by a woman there who was half in the bag. She had come down to us from the other end of the bar telling the bartender she wanted to "buy the gentlemen a drink." Seeing her affections were obviously for my friend (she told him he had nice eyes) I took the opportunity to get out of the way and go play a little video blackjack. Maggie was her name and she was a hoot - she even picked up our whole tab at the end of the night - nearly 60 bucks! Nothing happened though, mainly because Jay's a very happily married man...and probably because Maggie was 74 years old. Another classic story from the road!


As you can probably imagine, the morning of Wednesday, August 5th saw us itching to finally get to Sturgis, but "mecca" was still nearly 400 miles away. Most of those miles were on the flat "runways" I mentioned earlier, but when we hit Chamberlain, we went from the dead flats to going down something like the side of a canyon. A breathtaking view of the Missouri river was before us, crossing which was more impressive than the Mississippi in my opinion. We picked up another hour of daylight crossing into Mountain Time, and made it to Sturgis around 4pm safe and dry. In fact, except for the one stretch in New York State I mentioned, the ride out was rain-free. Considering the overall wet summer we've had so far, we really lucked out. The only thing I can really say I didn't like about the ride out? Loading and unloading all the gear off the bike every day - that was a pain in the ass!

Obviously this adventure has to be told in parts because there's just so much to tell. I have several hundred pictures so I'm probably going to have to do a slideshow or two also in the posts to follow.

Next up: The rally, the nightlife, the strip, riding in the Black Hills, Mt. Rushmore, etc, and not necessarily in that order as I'm shooting from the hip here as I go along.

Can and Can Not

Found this quote on a site the other day and thought I would pass it on. Don't know who wrote it - but it is simple and true. Many of these things have been tried before throughout history and proven to be true.

"You cannot help the poor by destroying the rich.

You cannot strengthen the weak by weakening the strong.

You cannot bring about prosperity by discouraging thrift.

You cannot lift the wage earner up by pulling the wage payer down.

You cannot further the brotherhood of man by inciting class hatred.

You cannot build character and courage by taking away people's initiative and independence.

You cannot help people permanently by doing for them, what they could and should do for themselves."

Can and Can Not

Found this quote on a site the other day and thought I would pass it on. Don't know who wrote it - but it is simple and true. Many of these things have been tried before throughout history and proven to be true.

"You cannot help the poor by destroying the rich.

You cannot strengthen the weak by weakening the strong.

You cannot bring about prosperity by discouraging thrift.

You cannot lift the wage earner up by pulling the wage payer down.

You cannot further the brotherhood of man by inciting class hatred.

You cannot build character and courage by taking away people's initiative and independence.

You cannot help people permanently by doing for them, what they could and should do for themselves."