Sturgis Motorcycle Rally was an eye-opening experience
Long-time buddy Scooter Pursley and I participated in the weeklong extravaganza referred to as the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally, held in the Black Hills of South Dakota.
This is the 65th year the celebration of all things motorcycles has been held in the sleepy little community of Sturgis, which has a usual population of about 2,000. During the week, well over a half-million "bikers" were estimated to have participated in the rally.
We "camped" in the dorm rooms of Rapid City's South Dakota Tech for the ridiculously low price of $55 a day - this compared to the $200 and $300 daily rates charged by the usual lodging industry. The dorm's air conditioning kept us cool during the early part of the rally when temperatures were well over 100 degrees and dry during the end when rain came down in buckets, quenching the parched countryside. Pursley did bemoan the fact we didn't have a TV in the room, but the Hardrockers provided a continental breakfast that couldn't be beat.
I have to admit to being overwhelmed by the sheer number of people, bikes, vendors and traffic. As the week went on, I grew accustomed to it, but was never really comfortable. Flying down I-90 at 80 mph in thick traffic where other bikers are splitting lanes and the drivers in the boxes are hitting their brakes puts a whole new perspective on things.
People-watching and riding the Hills were my favorite pastimes. We'd get up early, about 6 a.m., allowing us to get out on the roads before they became congested, and were usually back in Rapid by early afternoon. We made the obligatory visits to the "Heads" and Crazy Horse's ever-evolving monument. We rode the popular runs such as Needles Highway and Spearfish Canyon, but my favorite was Nemo Road, which took us from just outside of Deadwood to Rapid City. Nemo was a winding route with a lot to see and not too many other bikers to be seen.
What's said to set the Sturgis rally apart from others, such as Daytona and Laconia rallies, is the venue and riding opportunities. It's hard to believe you could find better riding opportunities anywhere.
Visits were made to Deadwood, Custer, Hill City, Spearfish, Lead and Keystone, to name a few - all playing a big part in the rally as they worked to get their share of the biker dollar. Rally vendors were everywhere and every store had its own rally memorabilia for sale.
After the rides, it was time to people-watch, and this provided hours of entertainment. It's hard to describe some of the things I saw, ranging from the outlandish to just plain ludicrous. I didn't have any problem pointing and gawking, figuring the reason people went to these extremes was to stick out in the crowd, and boy, did they ever.
The only "celebrity" I came across was bike builder Eddie Trotta, a master builder from Florida who can be seen competing in the Discovery Channel's Biker Build-offs. I did get to see some amazing motorcycles and had the opportunity to sit on machines worth more than my house.
When we first got down there, I was somewhat paranoid about my bike and other things being stolen. I put a couple of different locks on my Victory to deter theft and even locked my helmet down, but by the trip's end I quit using the locks and just hung the helmet on the bike when I left and they were always there upon return.
Each day the television stations would provide a "Rally Tally" of such numbers as rally-related deaths, accidents and arrests. When we left, there were six motorcycle-related deaths.
One of the strangest incidents included the guy who was killed near Custer when a portable toilet fell from the truck transporting it, hitting the biker who was following behind.
I spent my fair share on mementos for the family and myself, including a piercing of my left earlobe for a gold earring. There have been a number of unsolicited comments, particularly since I returned in time for a family reunion. But none better than when my mother's eyes grew large once she noticed what was hanging from her nearly 50-year-old's ear, exclaiming ... "you've got to be kidding!" It was priceless.
Pursley and I took pride in the fact we rode to and from the rally, putting on nearly 1,500 miles during the week. We didn't realize that during the course of the trip down and back we'd be crossing a portion of South Dakota that's more barren than the surface of the moon, making the 300 miles seem more like 3,000.
But the miles we put on were nothing to a few of the people I talked to. One guy made the trip with his wife on the back of their bike from Anchorage, Alaska, some 2,900 miles. And more than once he made mention "she isn't a small woman." Another 65-year-old retired truckdriver made the trip by himself from Ohio in just over two days, some 1,500 miles, and another guy was returning to Arizona, by way of Idaho.
There was a sad note to the trip when I got a call from my wife, Diane, telling me she had to have our dog, Alf, who we've had for 16 years, put to sleep - the old girl's body finally gave up on her. That call left me bawling in the streets of Hill City for a few minutes. But now, Alf can better keep up with all of those birds she loved to chase.
Pursley and I are already talking about a return to the rally next year and how we'll do things differently. We're also thinking about going when the activity isn't quite so high to better enjoy the riding and sights.
(Reach reporter Gordon Weixel at 250-8255 or gordon.weixel@;bismarck tribune.com.)
This is the 65th year the celebration of all things motorcycles has been held in the sleepy little community of Sturgis, which has a usual population of about 2,000. During the week, well over a half-million "bikers" were estimated to have participated in the rally.
We "camped" in the dorm rooms of Rapid City's South Dakota Tech for the ridiculously low price of $55 a day - this compared to the $200 and $300 daily rates charged by the usual lodging industry. The dorm's air conditioning kept us cool during the early part of the rally when temperatures were well over 100 degrees and dry during the end when rain came down in buckets, quenching the parched countryside. Pursley did bemoan the fact we didn't have a TV in the room, but the Hardrockers provided a continental breakfast that couldn't be beat.
I have to admit to being overwhelmed by the sheer number of people, bikes, vendors and traffic. As the week went on, I grew accustomed to it, but was never really comfortable. Flying down I-90 at 80 mph in thick traffic where other bikers are splitting lanes and the drivers in the boxes are hitting their brakes puts a whole new perspective on things.
People-watching and riding the Hills were my favorite pastimes. We'd get up early, about 6 a.m., allowing us to get out on the roads before they became congested, and were usually back in Rapid by early afternoon. We made the obligatory visits to the "Heads" and Crazy Horse's ever-evolving monument. We rode the popular runs such as Needles Highway and Spearfish Canyon, but my favorite was Nemo Road, which took us from just outside of Deadwood to Rapid City. Nemo was a winding route with a lot to see and not too many other bikers to be seen.
What's said to set the Sturgis rally apart from others, such as Daytona and Laconia rallies, is the venue and riding opportunities. It's hard to believe you could find better riding opportunities anywhere.
Visits were made to Deadwood, Custer, Hill City, Spearfish, Lead and Keystone, to name a few - all playing a big part in the rally as they worked to get their share of the biker dollar. Rally vendors were everywhere and every store had its own rally memorabilia for sale.
After the rides, it was time to people-watch, and this provided hours of entertainment. It's hard to describe some of the things I saw, ranging from the outlandish to just plain ludicrous. I didn't have any problem pointing and gawking, figuring the reason people went to these extremes was to stick out in the crowd, and boy, did they ever.
The only "celebrity" I came across was bike builder Eddie Trotta, a master builder from Florida who can be seen competing in the Discovery Channel's Biker Build-offs. I did get to see some amazing motorcycles and had the opportunity to sit on machines worth more than my house.
When we first got down there, I was somewhat paranoid about my bike and other things being stolen. I put a couple of different locks on my Victory to deter theft and even locked my helmet down, but by the trip's end I quit using the locks and just hung the helmet on the bike when I left and they were always there upon return.
Each day the television stations would provide a "Rally Tally" of such numbers as rally-related deaths, accidents and arrests. When we left, there were six motorcycle-related deaths.
One of the strangest incidents included the guy who was killed near Custer when a portable toilet fell from the truck transporting it, hitting the biker who was following behind.
I spent my fair share on mementos for the family and myself, including a piercing of my left earlobe for a gold earring. There have been a number of unsolicited comments, particularly since I returned in time for a family reunion. But none better than when my mother's eyes grew large once she noticed what was hanging from her nearly 50-year-old's ear, exclaiming ... "you've got to be kidding!" It was priceless.
Pursley and I took pride in the fact we rode to and from the rally, putting on nearly 1,500 miles during the week. We didn't realize that during the course of the trip down and back we'd be crossing a portion of South Dakota that's more barren than the surface of the moon, making the 300 miles seem more like 3,000.
But the miles we put on were nothing to a few of the people I talked to. One guy made the trip with his wife on the back of their bike from Anchorage, Alaska, some 2,900 miles. And more than once he made mention "she isn't a small woman." Another 65-year-old retired truckdriver made the trip by himself from Ohio in just over two days, some 1,500 miles, and another guy was returning to Arizona, by way of Idaho.
There was a sad note to the trip when I got a call from my wife, Diane, telling me she had to have our dog, Alf, who we've had for 16 years, put to sleep - the old girl's body finally gave up on her. That call left me bawling in the streets of Hill City for a few minutes. But now, Alf can better keep up with all of those birds she loved to chase.
Pursley and I are already talking about a return to the rally next year and how we'll do things differently. We're also thinking about going when the activity isn't quite so high to better enjoy the riding and sights.
(Reach reporter Gordon Weixel at 250-8255 or gordon.weixel@;bismarck tribune.com.)
posted by Saskia at 8/22/2005 05:35:00 AM | Permanent Link |
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