Home Again Home Again

But just barely!! I just spoke with Scott, who reports that on Monday, 40 miles from home, going at speed with traffic (80 mph) at 3:30pm on I-25 near Fort Collins, CO, his back tire blew out. Talk about soiling your chaps! Good thing he's got the experience to know to not touch the brakes. Sounds like his getting the bike off the road was also an ordeal....those wacky Colorado drivers. But he reports that it's all good, he's fine, was just bummed that he couldn't majestically roll into his driveway, conqueror of all things motorcycly. No word from Alberto yet--hoping all's well with him, sure that it is. Other than that, I guess this is the postscript, cuz I'm happy and slightly sunburned and vibratey and home. Quite an adventure; about 2950 miles (the last 1000 of them over Monday and Tuesday) through some of the prettiest country I've seen. Thanks to all who've been following along and rooting for us, hope you enjoy these few more pics from Sturgis. Stay tuned in the next few weeks....we'll be blogging during our next trip as well--a production trip around the world!

Off Into The Sunrise

Another beautiful morning, but it’s hot already as we load up and prepare our steeds for the dashes to home. After a fine array of breakfast tacos and a final cleaning of the condo off we went; Alberto heading west then south for Utah then on to Vegas, Scotty back down through the Black Hills on 85 towards Interstate 25 then blasting for Boulder, and me….one last pass through Deadwood and through the beautiful Black Hills towards Rapid City, and on to the endless ribbon of Interstate 90. Even though it was in the upper 90s for all of my 550 miles, with an evil crosswind coming from the south, it was still quite pretty---through Buffalo Gap, then the Badlands, then the—I guess the Nothing Lands alllllll the way across South Dakota, then across much of Minnesota to Albert Lea, MN, and a well-deserved jacuzzi suite at the HI Express. No new pics for this post, so just some more of Sturgis for you to enjoy. By Tuesday evening I’ll be in my comfy cozy home, and even though this has been such a great trip and fun adventure…I just can’t wait to be home again.

Everyone Loves a Happy Ending

What a day what a day. We were wheels-up at 9a, and the guys were nice enough to back me up as I limped on one grumpy cylinder from Lead back into Sturgis. Our search for a BMW-friendly mechanic proved fruitless, so---we took advantage of last-day sales, and some awful food (I did, anyway). Finally we got back to the bikes, and Scott had an idea. So he popped the cover of the offending carb, fiddled around inside for a few minutes (“what is this lone ball-bearing doing rattling around in here?”), and after a few attempts and a few pints of spilled gas in the Harley Davidson store parking lot, he got the cover and gasket back on just so and…vroom!! Two cylinders---the Beemer is back and purring like a little german kitten! Danke Scotty, the hero of the day! The trip is complete--Or so I thought, because….check it out; on our way back to the condo we stopped in Deadwood, and wandered in to the Number 10 Saloon, where Wild Bill Hickock was shot, for a few cold beers (the day started cloudy and chilly---66 degrees in Sturgis---but by the time we got to Deadwood it was back up in the 90s, causing undue thirst). During our 2nd round, three women walk in and meander up to us, and start to be very nice and friendly and chatty/jokey with us, so we buy them drinks. Turns out they’re South Dakota-licensed Exotic Performers, here working as body-shot girls at One-Eyed Jack’s in Sturgis, and it was the end of their last day in town before heading back home. We got the lowdown on the job (lousy tippers, cruddy wages, poopy conditions overall, lame that the state made them each spend $100 to get licensed as exotic performers), then we took them to an early dinner at the Deadwood Social Club. Food was ok, waitron Amy was very nice (a budding music teacher who, upon request from one of the girls with us--also named Amy--sang us a song), and…it was great being just three nice guys who were being hit on—sort of—by these women. A happy ending indeed…which could likely have been happier if we’d taken them up on their oft-repeated invite to come as their guests to the One Eyed Jack’s staff going-away party this evening. But, you know, we each got the chicks we want. And Monday morning, Alberto’s birthday, we make our separate ways back to them, full to the brim with great memories of an excellent adventure none of us ever thought we’d do or even want to do.

Beauty And The Beasts

What an amazing day! Up early for a morning run to Crazy Horse Mountain and to Mount Rushmore, via the winding byways of the Black Hills National Forest. Scott beat his beast into submission with a new battery for his security fob, then we were off. Just a beautiful morning run that took us through the way-cool Deadwood, SD. The Crazy Horse Mountain sculpture is a work in progress, and it’s in answer to Mount Rushmore (“Tell the white man that the red man has his heros too”—that’s how it started, from the mouth of one of the Chief’s who fought Custer at Little Big Horn to the Gov. of South Dakota back in the 30’s). Then off we went to Rushmore for a look-see. Four stoned presidents above, lots of little chipmunks below zipping about and keeping the place clean. As we parked there Alberto was showing us the stock linkage that he was planning on switching out for something cooler when we got back to Sturgis; on our way out of the Rushmore parking lot guess what? The linkage on his beast crapped out. Who knew linkages had ears? One zip tie and two bits of wire to the rescue then we proceeded to Rapid City (we tried to find the Nemo road, but it was too well hidden). It was getting past lunchtime, so we beamed up the interstate towards Sturgis. My beast almost ran out of gas—thank you reserve tanks!—but a quick stop and I hooked back up with my guys. We toodled around Mainn Street Sturgis again, Alberto got his replacement linkage and had it installed, so his beast was happy as could be. With the sun getting low we aim for home, and 12 miles from home PFFFT, my beast gets very grumpy, losing power. Seems I’m running now on one cylinder, which is not good. So Sunday morning’s goal—limp back into Sturgis and find a mechanic who can bring the BMW beast back to life. Stay tuned! OH HEY, ALSO--check yesterdays post below for new pics!

Sturgis

The concept of 200,000+ bikes in one general area is an interesting one, and when you actually experience all the bikes on the road it’s very cool, but then when you get to Main Street in Sturgis---wowza, unreal. So many cool bikes, so many really nice people (even the guys running the Hell’s Angels store were nice), just a blast. After Alberto got his bike bikini-washed we toured some of downtown Sturgis and sampled a few of the cold beverages that were being purveyed. Saw people and bikes from all over the country, and quite a few riders from overseas. But it was about 100 and so we needed some wind to cool us down, so we took our first run. One of the things you do is to go on rides (runs) in the Black Hills, because the roads are stunning, so we started small with Spearfish Canyon. Jutty cliffs, some nice waterfalls, a little stream alongside keeping the temps cool. Scott continues to have to spank the security technology of his bike—I wouldn’t want to be the rental guy in Boulder that Scott will be meeting with on Tuesday. Anyway, I’m hoping to somehow get the software to get to the pics, because a picture is worth a thousand words, and a picture of tens of thousands of bikes is worth, like…a lot. Saturday it’s off to Mount Rushmore, the Crazy Horse Memorial, and who knows where else.

Onward Ho!

Bright beautiful Boulder, home of Dot’s Diner “Where Folks Get Their Yolks” (eventually), and meeting point of the AC/MC. Don’t we look bad? A guy in a Prius said he loved our colors, thought the name of the club was hilarious, then he described the old days in Boulder when there were guys who did actually ride around town in chaps, and no pants underneath. Whee, then Ouch! Anyway, Scotty led us up into the mountains for a beautiful ride up to Estes Park and back down to the flatlands, then we hit hiway 85 North for the 380 mile run to Lead, SD and our condo (we are so so bad, don’t you think?). We endured a heinous smells just south of Ault, CO—Scott said it was bean processing….smelled like bean processing by a thousand old men with digestive issues—then we continued through the little towns and into Cheyenne, WY, where there is a HUGE Union Pacific yard, complete with airport-like control tower. We stopped to wet our whistles in Torrington, WY, and while Scott learned that the Harley Davidson security system is apparently made by Microsoft (it was the lack of intuitive interface and refusal to work that gave it away to us), Alberto was entertained by Ricky Hill from Deadwood, who just got thrown out of a bar across the screet for fighting. Alberto gave him gum. Ricky smiled (no teeth) and said thanks. After success with tech support, Scotty fired up and we were off. Wyoming was beee-utiful, and enormous. The elbow room motif continues big time. We crossed into South Dakota as the sun was going behind the trees and the canyons leading us to Lead were amazing, a portent of things to come. We hit the market for dinner supplies and liquid supplies as Scott demonstrated the feeling after a 427 mile day. On Friday, we are Sturgis bound! But, what will it be first? The ladies cole slaw wrestling? The pickle eating contest? Who can say…?

Elbow Room

Remember the Schoolhouse Rock short "Elbow Room"? Well, Western Nebraska and Eastern Colorado still got plenty of it. Lots and lots of expansive beauty full of nothing. No wonder the native americans fought tooth and nail to keep it. Hiway 30 and the Pony Express route led me out of Ogallala, NE towards the Colorado state line. Just as I crossed into CO (now on hiway 138, following the South Platt River) I observed an old yellow biplane zipping around over nearby fields--no more than 100 feet off the ground--and at one point thought I was in North by Northwest when he started flying towards me (the only thing on the road). I think he was just doodling around, practicing his cropdusting. Anyway, I then stumbled into Julesburg and D & J's Cafe. The breakfast special was quite special indeed (I took Dave's advice and went for a biscuits and gravy-laden item...and glad I did!) and just the fortification I needed to head onwards to Sterling. Cruised through towns like Crook, Ovid and Illif, then got to Sterling where I picked up State Hiway 14. And boy oh boy, what a ribbon of road. It takes you through the Pawnee National Grasslands, which are stunning, and as I rounded the curve near Briggsdale there they were--the Rocky Mountains, appearing as shadows off in the distance. By the time I went through Ault I could see the snow in the higher elevations. During a quick rest-my-bum stop in Fort Collins I got a text message from our guy Ryan (who's from Boulder) with a killer through-the-mountains route to Boulder. Kudos to Ryan! It was amazing! Hiway 34 is the Big Thompson Canyon Road that goes up to Estes Park (elev. 7500 or so), then hiway 36 takes you back down a different canyon road and on into Boulder. Met up with Albert at the hotel here and after a few cold ones then an evening of sushi at Haba in the Pearl Street Mall area it was off to lala and dreams of Thursday's Big Run to Sturgis.

Great Googly Moogly-it's Ogallala, by golly!

Ogallala, Nebraska. The end of a rainless day's ride. I'm happy but pretty burnt. The Lincoln Hiway across Nebraska is very pretty. And mostly desolate. Most of the cool old roadside places are closed, but there's enough evidence of them to make you feel ok. You pretty much mark progress by how many town grain elevators you pass--which is all of them. I will say that Union Pacific does a very brisk business in freight along this route...non-stop backing and forthing with the trains on three sets of rails that parallel US 30, carrying coal, cars, grain, fertilizer, and lots of inner city graffiti out into the heartland. Everyone's quite nice, from the waitress at Central City's "Waffles N' More"--which advertises the best cheeseburger in town, and rightly so!--to the guy in the leather store who, when asked if he could make me some assless chaps, hesitated a moment and replied that all chaps are assless; that's what makes them chaps. They got them a pretty little movie house there too. Also met a nice drunk named Bert at "The Den", a small watering hole in North Platt right at the Mountain Time crossing. Tonight I'm going to try and find myself something that won't add layers to the insides of my arteries, but I don't hold out much hope. Then tomorrow its a lazy 240 miles in to Boulder and final prep for the next leg of the adventure; the first official meeting and ride of The Assless Chaps MC "In Memory of Dirty Sanchez" at Dot's Diner ('where folks get their yolks').

Southern Iowa: Enter the Wayback Machine

It's somewhere between the land that time forgot and the land forgotton by time: Southern Iowa. I lit out from Burlington and headed south for Fort Madison, where I picked up the Mormon Pioneer Auto Tour trail going west. The auto tour sort of follows the general path of the trail (hiways 2, 65, 34, 25, and 92), but every 10 miles or so there's a little "Mormon Trail Crossing" sign, and you look, and in most cases you can still see the remnants of the trail--it's just a little worn down and open. Except when there's cornfields on one side or the other, which is often. The little towns along the way are in varying states of being. Donnellson's "Business District" looks a little worse for wear, but Bloomfield, home of French's Hamburger Inn, has a very nice town square centered around the court house. Oh, and French's--mais oui! The house specialty is the Loose Meat Burger, which entails a big cooker full of tender ground beef, and a seated woman--not unlike a surgeon or a diamond-splitter--meticulousy putting them together, wrapping them in paper, then handing them to you (lest you spill). The lemonade was homemade, and the corn poppers were poppy! Corn popper: 8 or so fresh sweet corn kernals held together by a little batter then deep fried. Wowza, some kind of tasty--AND, yet another thing to do with corn! The auto tour road continued, past a never-ending array of beautiful old barns, and after a few wrong turns onto some amazingly empty county roads, I turned west again to avoid the "end of pavement" issue and stared straight down the barrel of an Iowa thunderstorm. On with the raingear, and a pucker of the bum (lots of lightning, and me riding the only hunk of metal for miles), and it was a race to shelter. 5 minutes before the sky fell I took over a town picnic shelter in Weldon. The lightning was everywhere for about 30 minutes, then---bright sun. Onwards then through Osceloa and Greenfield, through Council Bluffs, then across the Missouri River in to Omaha. Tuesday it's off to follow the Platt River west on Hiway 30, the Lincon Hiway ("America's First Coast to Coast Hiway").

Holy cornbelt Batman!

After a morning thunderstorm and a few false starts (was it the battery, or was it operator-error? Hmm, and what's this little red switch next to the ignition?!), I departed the 'hood at the crack of noon. My goal is to stick to the old river roads, which often just evolved from the old Indian trails. Shortly after Joliet I pick up US 6 heading west, which follows the Illinois River--beautiful lazy road, nice little towns along the way, and being that it was a bright summer Sunday, there were many old dudes out cruising in their old cars and trucks. My meticulously-planned hot dog feed in La Salle was thwarted when I discovered the stand I like there so much was closed. But one town over, at the western edge of Peru, IL, stood the Igloo. 10 stools at an L-shaped counter "that hadn't changed in 50 years" an old-timer inside informed me. He said the best thing there was the pork tenderloin sandwich, and it was! So porky, so tendery. Washed down with a strawberry shake and I am primed for more saddle-time. There were spots of rain all around me, but somehow I managed to dodge them as I meandered among the jillions of acres of corn and motored towards Moline--Gateway to Iowa. Crossing the Mississippi was...a little scary on the very old US 6 bridge, but I made it, dawdled through Davenport, IA as I tried to find the Great River Road (so many amazing old buildings there---but none that looked like sofas! "This is the town that gave that piece of furniture its name, ain't it?" No one could tell me.). I finally found it--Hiway 22, running south just along the western bank of the Mississippi River. A few cars and bikes on the road, a few speedboats on the river, but mostly just me and the setting sun. A quick stop in Muscatine for a keg of lemonade and some give-my-butt-a-rest time then onwards, into the "evening hatch" (Bobbi informed me of its name). The "evening hatch" is evident when your bisecting miles and miles of cornfields, dodging hundreds of psycho, flitty birds that are trying to eat the millions of cornfieldy bugs that have just hatched...in the evening. Those that don't get eaten by birds wind up on my windscreen---so now I know what my first duty will be in the morning. Incidentally---getting a late start again in the morning to avoid the "morning hatch". First port of call on the journey is Burlington, IA, and the jacuzzi in my HI Express room is yummy for my bummy. Then dinner alongside the river in an old Burlington-Northern freight building that is now Big Muddy's, where cold beer + big racks of ribs = happy Mark. Monday it's off to follow the Mormon Trail across southern Iowa towards Council Bluffs.