The Road Home - Nailing It!

Saturday, August 1st: My day for a planned ride to Deadwood to see Butch at the hospital. Judy was already there and gave me directions on the best route. Earlier, Mel took off on a Badlands run with his pretty pal, Pat on back. They would make it to the hospital for a visit later that afternoon.

First, I would head for the Rapid City Convention Center, where the Harley-Davidson company would have their 2010 models displayed for the first time. I would also present my Harley Owner's Group membership card and pick up a free pin commemorating my attendance at the event. I drooled on a bunch of brand new bikes then picked up bike and accessory catalogs for Butch, Mel and I. Again, it was early in the morning and there were hundreds of visiting bikes parked there. During Bike Week, you will find the same large numbers everywhere including Sturgis, Deadwood, Rapid City, Hill City, Keystone and Custer.

Next, heading to visit Butch I took the most direct route... around 40 miles going past Sturgis with the last 10 miles running through the mountains. The contrast of deep greens there and blue sky along with the reddish cliffs was striking. The scattered white and grey clouds gave us the shadows needed to bath every scene in pleasant contrast. The three dimensional panoramas kept unfolding and revealing a new perspective every second. That ride prompted me to later tell my wife Julieann, "Let's make one thing clear, I love the Black Hills." She was lucky enough to have been born and raised there... she remembers the winters so she limits her love of the place to the summers. That would probably be my take on things too.

(photo r: Deadwood during the Rally)

I hung around the hospital long enough to annoy Butch and Judy, then headed into Sturgis to get my figurative radical fanatic rubbernecker card punched. I stopped at JP Cycles at the edge of the Lazelle street... then I walked a mile or so down the street, occasionally criss-crossing to get a closer view of some of the vendors. Along the way, I stopped in the Jack Daniels tent display and had a "Jack and Diet" in honor of my trouper son's favorite stage drink then headed for the other end of the row and the Broken Spoke saloon, "World's Largest Biker Bar."

After that I crossed over to Main street where most Sturgis photos are taken... there you will see bikes parked four wide for many blocks. To get set up that way, they are backed in to each curb and sit nose-to-nose in the middle. I took in the scene, walking past the huge bars and vendor displays there. It's probably worth noting that, during Sturgis bike week, there are enough t-shirts for sale there to clothe every man, woman and child in China... and perhaps a couple of neighboring countries. They have been staging this event for 69 years so you can imagine the sort of stories Lazelle and Main could tell.

(photo r - Main Street Sturgis - four wide)

Finally, I returned to Butch and Judy's home and spent a chunk of the evening on their porch with some Budweiser Lights and a stogie. In recognition of my senior status, I would be in the sack by 10 while hundreds of thousands partied in various Black Hills camp sites and homes. I know they all missed me too.

Sunday, August 2nd: My last day there. I began the day by calling Julie and mentioning that I was thinking of staying another day. She got a little testy at the suggestion and it had me picturing what my ass would look like in a sling so a few minutes later, I called her back again and told her I was starting the trip home the next day as planned. She didn't try to make sense out of the whole thing as she learned many years ago about my skills with making 'non-sense.

On the way to visit Butch at Deadwood again, I stopped at Black Hills Harley-Davidson... again. This was just to be sure there was nothing vital I had missed. Sure enough, I found a terrific seat at the Mustang vendor and was quickly convinced that it would do better on long hauls than the Corbin seat I had made at Hollister, CA last year. One of my purposes in doing this was to perhaps avoid the dreaded "crotch creep" phenomena. This happens to rider's who do not have a proper motorcycle seat and gives the sensation that their jeans are trying to wrap themselves around the rider's neck. While they were installing it, I went into the HD store and bought Butch a t-shirt.

Then, I made the biggest mistake of my trip... I bought the Coyote a t-shirt too. You see, I just couldn't stand the thought of him whimpering and scuffing the floor with his shoes when he realized I hadn't bought him anything. I know, I know... in the first installment of this journey I promised I would make him suffer for not joining me but I guess I am just an old softy.

Later, at the hospital, Butch was doing great. He even refused the nurse's offer to let him don pajama bottoms. I think he was enjoying the idea of mooning all of us periodically. A little while later, the nurse threatened to "kick (Mel's) ass" when he made a wise crack. I think we all lit up the entire ICU with laughter over that one. They sure make them tough in Deadwood...

Back at the house that evening, I cleaned the Hog and packed up then hit the sack early again... cleverly missing hundreds of raucous parties that would have been soooo much better if I had been there...

Monday, August 3rd: I was up at the crack and headed out early for Rock Springs, Wyoming.. around 500 miles down the road. the first 50 miles or so I was riding adjacent to and in the Black Hills so I got to say a long "see you later" to that wonderful land. About half the trip was across Wyoming flat lands... pretty God-forsaken at times and typically with a lot of

headwinds. Rock Springs is adjacent to the Flaming Gorge area though, another magnificent place on Earth you should see at least once in your life time.

(photo r - The Black Queen loaded and ready to leave the Rock Springs Holiday Inn.)

Tuesday, August 4th: Up at the crack again. Destination Elko, Nevada, a little over 400 miles. The day started on a spectacular note with a few panoramas offered up by Flaming Gorge. 400 miles of Interstate. Speed limit, 75. I set the cruise control at eight over. My 100 horse Street Glide just chewed up the highway like it was born to it. Not much wind from any direction so it was a smooth ride and I settled at the Holiday Inn Express pretty early.

I left the hotel in mid-afternoon searching for three things, a Texas hold-em game, a Mexican restaurant and a car wash so I could do a little bug removal work on the bike. First, I went to the Red Lion but found their poker room totally empty. Then, after riding around a while I found the last two in basically the same strip mall area. I washed the bike first then sat down to a fine meal of Carne Asada and one of the largest Cadillac margaritas I have seen. On that evening , hitting two out of three objectives was pretty terrific.

Wednesday, August 5th: The home stretch! Weather... perfect almost all the way. Temperatures in the 50's and 60's had me dressed in comfortable layers for over half the trip. Dressed down to a long sleeved shirt the last half when I found the heat of the Sacramento valley while riding down off Donner Pass .

East of Reno-Sparks, I had noticed a series of signs placed "Burma Shave" style, set in a series so you could take in one thought at a time. They said,

"A Lot Of Pretty Ladies.

To Sit On Your Lap.
Wild Horse Saloon.

Exit 28. Truck access."

I will leave you to figure that one....

Next I decided to name my Harley. I guess out of respect for all we had been through together in the previous couple of weeks. At first I thought of "Black Mariah" but then as I thought through use of the name I had some reservations. For instance, what if I was sitting in mixed company and volunteered that I had to go home to "clean up BM"? That wouldn't work too well right?! So I am tentatively settled on "Black Queen", after the Steven Stills song. I can call her "Queen" for short. I guess that would work eh? Let me know if you have any other suggestions.

The last stretch was one of the most difficult of the 3,000+ mile trip. I had been dreading the run from Reno to Sacramento as Interstate 80 was in such terrible shape. To my surprise, much of it is now being repaved and new lanes are being added in some spots. It was slow and tough negotiating the traffic at times but it will be a good ride when it is done.

End of story. Good to be home. As with most bike tours, I am already anticipating the next one. I would love to do the Rolling Thunder run across the United States for the Memorial Day ride in the Capital honoring our POW/MIA. Who knows?!

AFTERWORD - Tuesday, August 11th: Called Butch last night. He is doing great and, in fact, returned to work yesterday. We discussed the later part of Sturgis bike week too as Sunday was the last day. One rider was killed during the event (I am thinking that would have to be a record). The rider was on an Interstate ramp and had a straight-line accident - got on the shoulder somehow, lost control and that was it.

Sturgis also got some two and a half inches of rain over the weekend so all the sorry bikers probably had to hang out in bars to wait it out - thankfully bikers always have a back up plan though. With all the rain, it is still okay as veterans can tell you when it comes to weather, "we will have some" right?! I know, you remember that.

Also, the Black Hills can get hail that time of year and, at the same time it was raining in Sturgis, they got tennis ball sized hail at the famous Buffalo Chip campground (the place where Steven Tyler of Aerosmith expertly falls off stages). It was knocking out vehicle windshields and damaging gas tanks on motorcycles it was that bad. I got lucky when I left early eh?!

The Road Home - Looking Back

This trip...this Sturgis trip has been one of extremes. Here is an introduction, a little background on Sturgis and an accompanying chronology of sorts:

There were several reasons while I hightailed it to Sturgis this year; Sturgis bike week itself, friends and family who would be there, and son Tyler's bands were booked for two pre-rally shows in Rapid City.

(photo r w/captions... click on it and you should see a larger version)

Sturgis!

Look for estimates in the 500,000 range for the years overall attendance at the 69th Sturgis Rally. From mid-July to mid-August, no matter where you are in the United States you will see (mainly) Harley riders with large packs on the highways. You will also see trailers and RV's marked with Harley-Davidson and related logos. Ninety percent of them will be going to or coming from Sturgis. You could make book on that and likely get rich.

Also consider that a handful of of riders will be killed and at least one of them will be involved in a collision with a deer. I know that sounds terrible but understand that a city of several hundred thousand has suddenly sprung up in the Hills and it's population is riding millions of miles to get there, ride there and return home. With that in mind, the accident and relative fatality rate may even be low in comparison to similar sized cities. What makes this temporary city more special though is that it's people are on vacation, happy, and dedicated to living life large.

I have written a lot about this event so here I will focus on some small tales from one rider...one of the old Badasses. Earlier posts on this site, going back to "Rack'em!" on July 18th will explain how we got this far. Now, picking up where we left off...

Thursday, July 30th: My brother-in-law, and 'brother' Butch Thomas had to work that day so I set about cleaning the road scum off the bike. It was accumulated from a couple of showers during the Spokane to Rapid City run. When it rains, a grey mix of oil and water comes up off the highway and covers every surface of the motorcycle. Typically a spray wash doesn't cut the scum either. You have to hand wash every nook and cranny. No problem though as cleaning the bike is occupational therapy for Harley owners world-wide. Nothing different for me.

Next, I stopped by arguably the world's largest dealership, Black Hills Harley-Davidson. It was 3 days before the official opening yet there were hundreds of bikes parked in the vast lot there as riders took in the dealership along with dozens of vendors who had paid big bucks to set up shop in tents in several acres of parking lot. Yes, while there I bought a great rally shirt as a keepsake (No shirt for El Coyote though...nope. None.)

Later that day however, the bigger deal for me was riding with friend and brother-in-law Butch Thomas to Robbinsdale Lounge to check out the venue my son Tyler's bands would be playing the next night as part of the Sturgis pre-rally events. We were impressed with the stage size and set up of the place. It looked like a good club. They played two shows there over the next two days and I have described the experience on another blog post: Rock the House.

That evening Butch and I sat on his back porch with a couple of beers and stogies for company. We swapped lies and bashed fellow riders Mel Nelson (who would arrive from Henderson, NV later that night) and El Coyote (who would be notable in his absence).

Friday, July 31: Mel had arrived with his silver Street Glide so now there were three of us. That number elevated our group from a "tandem" to an official "pack" - always a nice word to have available when claiming "Badass" status. Mel's friend and flame, Pat had arrived as well. She would be riding on the back of Mel's bike that day.

We swilled a ton of coffee then headed for Black Hills Harley-Davidson where I had a Sturgis commemorative patch sewn on my riding jacket. I don't typically do that but was somehow motivated by the fact that the trip was extraordinary in it's length and that I was able to make it at all. We also looked at some new Street Glides Butch was considering after his wife Judy suggested he do so. That is a pretty remarkable thing...to have your wife suggest you look at a new Harley. From my perspective, the act has to go down with other great events in history...like the invention of beer and chrome and the opening of the first bar!

The wind was blowing pretty strong at that time so we decided to head for Sturgis through the Black Hills on Nemo Road instead of the more direct route on the Interstate. We took off through the mountains and sure enough there was less wind but we did notice some solid overcast in front of us toward Sturgis. We stopped and visited Butch's in-laws on the way. Wally and Ruth Ann Jensen have built a huge log home and separate bunk house right on a stream in that beautiful area. Ruth Ann is an industrious soul and hey have been been running their "Copper Canyon Lodge," renting their basement (for six) and Bunkhouse (as many as 10) to Sturgis bikers and Black Hills vacationers. 

Next, we stopped for lunch at the Nemo Guest Ranch. The 'grub' was all being cooked and

served outdoors and I opted for the pulled pork sandwich with a side of ranch style beans. Food always seems to taste better when it is cooked and served outdoors. That day was no exception.

(photo r - Nemo Guest Ranch)

Shortly after we left the ranch, a light rain began. At first it wasn't too bad. But then, it gained intensity and after a couple of miles Mel dropped back and gave me signal that we should turn around. I signaled agreement and we got Butch's attention with the same result. When we turned I ended up in the lead, Butch was the middle and Mel and Pat were on the third and last Harley. We were trying to duck the rain so our pace was fairly quick on the straightaways and slow on the turns... being mindful of the potentially slick roads.

My routine in the lead is pretty standard for most bikers no matter what their position...to continuously scan all the important points including front, side-to-side and both rear view mirrors. I was doing the same that day although I lingered a little longer on the front view in deference to the weather conditions. When I scanned my mirrors I would see Butch and Mel's headlights behind me. Then, all of a sudden I looked in my rear view mirrors and saw no one.

I thought... well those guys know the area a lot better than I and maybe I missed a turn off. They could be back there waiting for me or there may be some sort of problem. I stopped and waited a few moments for their lights to show. When that didn't happen I turned around and headed back into the rain to find out what happened. I didn't go far before the rain had completely stopped.

Then, I rounded a turn and saw three bikes and a car parked on the opposite side of the road. I knew there had been an accident and, as I pulled up to park Mel walked up to me. He said, something about seeing "him go down" and as he was saying that I was taking in the scene. I was wondering where Butch was and at first thought he was on the grassy shoulder helping the accident victim. I walked closer and then suddenly recognized the badly damaged motorcycle laying on it's side. It was Butch's.

The feelings I had at that moment were not for an average motorcycle victim, nor were they for someone's average brother-in-law. They were more like they would be for a brother and close friend of over 40 years...someone with the same selfless, thoughtful nature shared with his sister, my wife Julieann Marie.

Not far from the bike, I saw Pat, Mel's friend (and later wife) kneeling beside Butch. She was holding his left hand in hers and had her other hand on his helmet. I walked up and knelt beside them on Butch's right. He was conscious and alert. He had some small cuts on his face and a black eye. When I asked, he said "I felt it slide a little and knew I wasn't going to make it." Others there explained that 911 had been called and that police and ambulance were on their way. Butch would occasionally try to move his head, "How's my bike?" but Pat would gently remind him to be still.

The police showed after a few minutes and the ambulance arrived a short while later. The attendants got Butch strapped to a backboard...in the process cutting off a (lucky?) Yellowstone Harley shirt I had just purchased for him in Belgrade, Montana.

After the ambulance left, Mel took care of letting Butch's wife Judy know and getting the bike (totalled I am pretty sure) hauled out. I took off to Rapid City to see if Judy needed assistance. She was doing well with reports from us and took off for the hospital in Deadwood just after I got back. I stayed to go to a picnic Ty's cousin (Butch and Judy's son Rick) had scheduled and reserve tables for guests at that nights concert. Not long after, we got the first report, broken scapula and six broken ribs. An MRI later showed a bruised lung and slight cut on his spleen.

Butch went home a couple of days later after they confirmed the spleen would be okay - he did remarkably well... especially considering the six broken ribs.

Saturday, August 1st to Wednesday August 5: Further adventures in the next installment of this series. Yes, there will be more photos and yes, they will be more succinct... maybe.