Guy at the bar asks if Ive been getting any good rides in. What day is it? I ask him. Sunday he says. Well, I left home last Sunday morning, and when I went to bed last night, Id ridden 2,100 miles since then. Then I dreamed I rode another thousand. Our quiet little campground looks like a trailer park, and Id estimate that barely one bike in ten has been ridden here. The rest have all come on a trailer or in a toy hauler. My Okie pal Red says trailers are for boats. I say trailers are for bikes that wont run. Some bathroom humorist wrote Why are people bringing all these broken bikes to Sturgis? On the bathroom wall, to which a reply was added by someone utterly lacking in irony: because Sturgis H-D has real good mechanics? I dont want to make value judgements on what others get out of motorcycling, but for me . . . I would never drive here. A pilgrimage should exact a price. It is the mixture of 3 parts fun to one part ordeal that equals adventure. Sturgis has changed me, changed my life, but if Sturgis is symbolic of an ideal, the riding halfway across country, alone or with a trusted friend, is the quest for the ideal and without the quest the goal means nothing.
Posted on: Sun, 03 Aug 2014 23:57:33 +0000
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