Boog's 5,500 mile Motor-vacation

Boog’s Motor Vacation 2014
Dear reader, stop, go get yourself some popcorn and your favorite beverage. This journal is around 19 pages long and I do not want to have to stop while you go get something to eat or use the restroom. Get it done now; I will wait…
Day 1, Aug 1st
I loaded up the bike that I affectionately call Brahma; one of the biggest bulls a fellow can ride in the Rodeo. I am about to begin an Iron Butt to Denver to meet up with my three youngest sons, Antony 25, Preston 22 and William (Liam) 17 (he just got his motorcycle endorsement on his license yesterday). Our destination will be the Black Hills Motorcycle Rally held in Sturgis, SD.
My first stop is at the local Exxon to get gas and my first signature to officially begin the Iron butt challenge. I hope to get two awards; the Saddle Sore is 1,000 miles in 24 hours and the Bun Burner is 1,500 miles in 36 hours. Denver is approximately 1,780 miles from my place in Dumfries, VA; should be easy...
I head west on Hwy 234 out of Dumfries and merge onto I-66 west 30 minutes later. It is around 0545 and traffic into DC is starting to pick up. Luckily, I am heading out of the area and my traffic is light. A short time later with the sun is coming up, I turn south onto I-81. The morning air is perfect for the start of a long trip. The temp is in the high 60s and the feeling is exhilarating as I ride along. I do notice that some heavy clouds are showing up to my southwest, dead ahead. I decide to stop for a squirt of gas and to get a breakfast burrito from a local gas station as I feel the first drops begin to fall. Weather app on the smart phone tells me there is only a 20% chance of rain for this area so I decided to forego wearing my rain gear. A few minutes later out on the freeway, I change my mind as I see the sky pouring just up ahead. It rains on me for the next two hours and I wonder if @rainman is riding today too.
I changed highways again and took I-64 west. By the time I was half through the West Virginia Turnpike, I had counted nine cagers who have flicked cigarettes towards me as I either passed them or followed behind. None has hit me yet but it sure is annoying.

The rain had stopped and I saw a rest stop ahead so I took it for a break. After removing the rain gear, I spoke with two guys checking their Harleys to ensure they are still tied down to the trailer. They had five bikes on this one and man were they shiny. I asked if they were going to Sturgis too and they were. As their other buddies walked up, I simply smiled and said I’ll see you guys there. This was a scene I saw repeated several more times as I rode the Triumph west. Too many bikes sitting on trailers while their owners sit in supposed comfort inside a rolling cage; poor bikes, I have to think that even Harleys want to be ridden sometime. I think how nice it is to be out in nature without the distraction of pulling a heavy trailer and listening to someone snore. I have a radio in my Scala Rider G9 attached to my helmet and can listen to anything in the area or to hear my play list on my smart phone but chose to ride along without any of that. I know my ADD friends would go nuts without background music but I am very content without it. The exhaust note and wind are all the background sounds I need. This is going to be a great trip…
The tires I am rolling on are Bridgestone Exedra Maxes with about 3,000 miles at the beginning of my trek. They handle the rainy, mountain roads quite nicely and seem to be better than the OEM Metslers for both feel and ability to toss water aside. I have taken several curves at a slightly too brisk pace and the tires stick very well even on the wet pavement. I am happy with them.
A few hours later, I reach Kentucky with clear skies and a perfect temperature somewhere in the mid 70s. I am now out of the mountains and into the rolling hills of horse country. Traffic is light and I head past Louisville where Mohammad Ali has his museum. I have been there in the past and recommend it if you like boxing history. Across the bridge, I go into Indiana. I find that the whole trip so far has been very pleasant with everything green and luscious. Indiana is no exception and may even be nicer than Kentucky, which is absolutely beautiful to see. I would love to be on the side roads right now but I need to keep to the super slab to eat up the miles for this iron Butt thing. The ‘Rocket 3 Touring’ is a serious, mile-eating machine, and is running along perfectly.
I soon say goodbye to Indiana and hello to Illinois. It was here back in January 2010 that I got to change out all the studs in my right front wheel of my Tundra pickup. Four of them had snapped off on my trip from Denver out to Virginia. Mt Vernon, Il has some great people who were very helpful late that night in the freezing weather and I am grateful to know that they are there. This time, I pass through without any need to stop for repairs, and again I am grateful.
As the evening sets in, I see St. Louis on the horizon. My GPS tells me to go one way, but I see new signs up telling me my next path, I-70, is another way. I follow the road signs and find a brand new bridge built over the Mississippi River. This bridge is a real work of art and saves me probably 20 minutes of time.
Once on I-70 and heading towards the west side of St. Louis, I notice a fast car moving up behind me. It changes to the lane on my left and begins to pass me. I look over and see a young black girl driving topless. Judging by her nubile nipples, I would guess she is under age. I wonder if she is fulfilling a dare or some initiation. She looks to be somewhat anxious. I decide that the Iron Butt is a higher priority than asking her why and thus ride on. No I do not have pictures therefore you may say it didn’t happen, well ok then…

I am getting hungry and only have about 120 miles to go to reach the Saddle Sore so I decide to have a sit down dinner. I stop at the Steak and Shake and order a hamburger and fries with Dr. Pepper to drink. The food and drink are so refreshing and delicious that I have three glasses of the soda before I know it. I usually try to drink only water on long trip but I felt I really needed the sugar boost right now.
Back on the road after this amazingly good food, the weather starts to get a little wet once more. Since it is now dark and I have been riding for around 16 hours straight, I decide to slow my pace some. Then the fog sets in and is so bad I have to turn my fog lights off so I can see. I slow to 35 MPH on the freeway and realize that finding a rest stop with a bench to sleep on may be a bad idea. Then internal agony makes up my mind to stop and get a room. Evidently, all that Dr. Pepper was working to clear my insides out and was manifesting itself in NO-uncertain-terms. I pulled into a hotel in Kingdom City, MO with only 12 miles to go to reach the 1,000 needed. Now I know most of you would say that doing another 12 miles would not be a big deal. Please believe me when I say that is not true in this case.
I get the room and begin to relax with the intention of staying for 4-5 hours so that I can get back on the road and fulfill my Saddle Sore requirements.
Day 2, Aug 2nd…
8 hours later, I roll out of the parking lot with no time left to get those 12 little miles. Oh well, I still have time to get the Bun Burner which I did somewhere just before the Colorado State line. It’s time to relax and not push so hard right? Not on this beautiful Triumph! Brahma just wants to keep on keeping on. I do stop at the first rest stop in Colorado to take a picture and send to the kids. I ask, ‘Where am I?” and tell them to look at the lower flag of the two flying on the poll behind the bike. The upper flag is the US and the lower of course is Colorado’s. As timing goes, I roll into Denver just before normal dinnertime and logged over 1800 miles in 35 hours so roughly 51 MPH average total or 66 MPH average not counting the time I spent off the road to sleep and recover from the Dr. Pepper.
So, I hug the family and unload Brahma and have a great spaghetti dinner. Liam and I go over a few questions about the ride and I link my Scala G9 to his Scala Rider2 headset so we can talk on the trip to Sturgis tomorrow. Preston arrives around 10:30 that night after telling me he would be there no later than 6pm. (He had asked his mom earlier that day if it would be ok if his girlfriend came on the trip with us. She told him “NO, it’s a father and son trip”. Evidently when he told his GF this, she had a slight meltdown and initially told him that he could not go either if she wasn’t invited. Drama…**** it). When I found out about her thoughts, I told him that she could come along but would have to sleep in my sleeping bag and I sleep naked; that shut her up and he finally joined us.

Day 3, Sunday Aug 3rd…
The plan was to ride out no later than 8 am to meet the older boy Antony at his place in Fort Collins. He was going to make breakfast for us. We got a late start and did not leave till 8:30. Antony had breakfast for us and I got to see his GF before she had to leave for work. (She gives great hugs…).
As we leave Antony’s place with him driving his car in the back, Preston get hits under his left eye (his visor was still up) by a wasp, which stings him. At the next stop light, I notice he is acting weird in my mirror. I ask what is up ad he tells me the reason. His eye swells up noticeably but he sucks it up and off we go.
Out on I-25 northbound, I ask Liam how he is doing and of course, he says he is doing well; I figure he does not want to say anything negative on his first ride with dad. I kept the speed around 65 mph up to now and tell him we are stepping it up to 70. He is good there and soon we hit 75 MPH, which is the speed limit in Colorado. Before leaving Denver, I asked him if he had fueled the Ninja up which he said he had. I didn’t double check it though not realizing that it did not have a nozzle stop in the filler opening like the Triumph has. I did ensure he could change the fuel petcock valve from main to reserve just in case. Back to the freeway… Somewhere between Fort Collins and Cheyenne, WY., Liam pipes up on the helmet link to let me know his bike is cutting out. I tell him to switch to reserve and he tells me the bike is dead. I tell him to coast over to the shoulder and we all stop. He tries to restart the bike to no avail. Both brothers try to start it and then I give it a go. It will not start; the prognosis is that the tank is empty. I do not have a siphon hose and neither do his brothers, so Antony drives off to get fuel. While sitting there, many bikes flowed past us heading north. Then I hear a familiar sound and see a fellow riding a blue and black R3T headed south. I could see his face as he was not wearing a helmet but I did not recognize him from the forum. Dang that bike sounded good…
Soon, Antony returned with gas and the little Ninja started right up. We could not figure out why the reserve was empty and I know the valve was set to main when we left. I bet Liam will not run out of gas any time soon now.
We ate lunch at the Western Sky Family Diner in Wheatland, WY and the boys noted that the little hole in the wall place I choose has excellent food. I told them to always look for local license plates at lunchtime and where many of them are is probably a good place to eat. It worked out this time…
Sometime after our lunch stop, watching the boys in my mirrors, looking out for trouble, I see a black flash fly into the front of the bike. Feathers scatter about and Liam says, “Dad, something just fell off your front tire”. I told him I had hit a bird and he was concerned that we should stop and make sure the bike was ok. I told him such things happen and to ‘just roll on’, we will check the bike at the next scheduled stop. At that stop, Preston told me I had run over a bird and tossed it up into his face. What a lucky kid, stung by a wasp and now splattered by a freshly smacked bird. Turns out, this black bird hit right between the front tire and the fender. I found traces of it inside the fender as it went down. This puzzled me because the tire at this point is rotating forward and yet it appears the bird went through it the opposite direction of the rotation. Maybe the remnants were from running over the bird with the front tire and then slung up into the fender. Who knows but the boys debated it longer than I thought about it.

The freeway speed limit is 80 here in Wyoming and I hated having to leave that behind. You just got to love the wide open spaces of the mid west. We fuel up just off the interstate on Hwy 18. I tell the boys that we will not be speeding, as the wildlife will be more abundant as will Johnny Law. I figured that the Police would be out in force trying to gain funds from all the bikes headed to Sturgis. One of the bikers hearing me tell the boys this concurred and said he has been stopped twice on this highway in the last four years. He left and a few minutes later, so did we. About two miles down the road, we saw him chatting it up with the WY State Patrol on the side of the road. I guess he was running blocker for us…
We stopped in Lusk, WY to fuel up once more and to take a break. I knew Liam and Preston must be getting a bit worn out since neither ride as much as I do. We are way behind my planned timeline, but I do not want to risk much with Liam’s first motorcycle adventure. While at the station, I heard Liam talking to someone. A fellow traveler pulling two Harleys had come over to ask him how the little Ninja did on the highway. Liam spoke to this guy like he had been riding the bike for years. My youngest told him that even though it was only a 500cc bike, it could easily do 80 on the Wyoming Interstate and that it was easy to ride even in the 45 MPH crosswinds; just have to lean into the wind. I felt proud of the boy as I listened to him talk to the older biker about the ride he has made so far from Denver. The Harley fellow could not believe anyone would ride such a small bike on a trip like this. Liam just said any bike is more fun to ride than trailer and the biker said ‘you got me there’. I do not think Liam was trying to slam the older fellow, I think it just rolled off his tongue before he could stop it.
We rode north on Hwy 85 to New Castle where we fueled up again. This is where we also entered into the Black Hills. I let Liam know he should back off anytime the road got to tight and to not try to keep up with me if I were to get ahead of him; don’t push beyond his comfort level. He said he got it and was ready to tackle his first mountain road. He did well I must say and I stayed at or below the speed limit to help ensure he didn’t lose confidence. Preston on the other hand riding the Ninja 1000 wanted me to pick up the pace quite a bit. Preston had challenged me once on the freeway earlier. I saw him passing Liam and I let Brahma go. Preston was right there and could not believe how quick the big bike matched his speed. I backed off at 110 and Preston was happy with that little spurt. Of course, Liam was a tiny speck behind us…
About half way to Deadwood, SD, I noticed that the road was damp and the clouds ahead were getting darker. We pulled over on a little pull out where a couple was donning their rain gear. I decided to wait here for a bit so the storm could pass ahead of us. After 20 minutes of waiting, I saw that more heavy clouds were heading our way. We were stuck between two big rain cells and had nowhere to hide so we pressed forward. A few miles before Lead, SD, the sky dumped on us in a big way. I slowed way down for safety and the last light of day faded into night. We pulled in to a fuel station in Lead and laughed about how wet we were. So far, young Liam has checked off many new rider items on the list:
· Strong cross winds…Check
· Ran out of gas…Check
· Ride in the mountains…Check
· Ride after dark…Check
· Ride in the rain…Check
· Ride in the dark, in the mountains, in the rain…Check
What a trooper he is too, no complaints so far. The gas station attendant let us know the storm has passed now and we may get some drizzle but no more hard rain. And “oh yeah” she said, “five riders have died this weekend and the rally doesn’t even start till tomorrow”. Thanks for that thought lady…

The roads were wet all the way into Sturgis from there but not too bad. While walking the bikes through Sturgis to get to the Lamphere Ranch campgrounds on the East side of town, Liam let me know his left wrist was really starting to hurt and he didn’t know why. I told him it is from fatigue, from pulling in the clutch so much while stop and go in town here; one more checklist item…check. We pulled into the campground around 10:30 and I saw a R3R with white strips. I asked around but no one knew whose it was. We set up camp in the dark with a slight drizzle coming down, something that seems to be the norm for us. We all fell asleep after the boys laughed at silly stuff for close to 30 minutes. Brings back great camping memories from when they were little…
Day Four, Aug, 4, the Rally begins…
Lamphere campground is the only one I hear that does not have a stage for a band to play on all night. I figured that would be best so we could get better sleep. I was wrong. I could hear bikes burning out off and on all night long. People would ride through the camp revving their engines and blowing their horns. I know this is a party week, but this grey beard was tired, give a fellow a break would you? Nope. At least I did not hear any fighting so I will look on the bright side there. I wake the lads up and tell them to hit the showers and then we will see what the Chuck Wagon has to offer at the camp check in store. To shorten up the breakfast story, if you eat at Lamphere, go with the breakfast burrito or the biscuits and gravy. The rest of the menu is only so-so (asi-asi for you Lupe) but their breakfast burrito was a step or two above average.
A Note to new comers visiting Sturgis:
· ATMs charge for everything you do including checking you balance. A withdrawal will cost you $4-$5, so beware or bring all your cash with you.
· Most tent campgrounds charge $30 or more for each person for each night of your stay. Lamphere only charges $20 per person per night but doesn’t have any shows or a bar. They do have most of the weak beers in the store though.
· Police will stop almost every bike headed East out of town to the big camp grounds if you are 1 Mile over the speed limit. They are looking for drunks! So ride at 35 mph or less especially after dark.
· I noticed ‘riot cops’ in the peripheries of town. I suppose this is necessary but hadn’t considered it until I spotted several vehicles arranged just like I would do if I had that mission. Walking by them, I saw all the correct tools to face a crowd several hundred thousand strong. I am glad they were not needed while we were there.
· When buying shirts, they are close in price but it seems the further out of downtown you go, the better the deals get. ALWAYS barter when buying here as the sellers have much room to negotiate.
· Food is good everywhere we ate; especially the Gumbo on day two when it had rained all day. That stuff is the best at warming a bunch of cold fellows up.
· Beer can be expensive or cheap, shop around the saloons and bars until you find one that suits your needs. Many have tits and other adult shows, and we found one that actually carded poor Liam who was not allowed in. We made him go sit with the bikes for a few hours. Just kidding, the boy saw such female anatomy at the Beaver bar on the second night. They are, let us say, friendlier…
Ok, after breakfast, we had made arrangements to meet up with Morris (R3Tex) and his crew at the gas station on the west side of town. The goal was to see Mt. Rushmore and maybe Crazy Horse. While waiting for the Texas bunch to arrive, we saw a wide variety of bikes and babes. One chick, maybe 50ish was wearing a thong, chaps and a fishnet top with pasties covering her nipples. I noticed the boys giving her much attention. (We make no apologies for being heterosexual; we were born this way…). One girl tried on t-shirts till one fit here, she was not wearing a bra and thankfully had no need for one either.

One bike that really stood out in this crowd is a 1948 Chief. I told Liam that these old bikes are wonders to behold but you had better be a good mechanic if you want to ride one. To prove my point, the rider could not get it started after fueling. Liam watched intently as the guy pulled the plugs and cleaned them and reset the gap. Then messed with the choke and carburetor and a whole slew of other components could not name right away. I spoke with the guy and asked about the condition of the bike. He had restored it two years ago except for the paint. He started sanding it down after everything else was done when they had a family emergency that would take him away for a few weeks. So mid sanding job, he quickly sprayed the tins and tank with a mat clear coat to prevent rust while away. When he came back, he thought it looked cool that way and so did his buddies. He just tightened up the clear coat and left it like it was. I think it looks great this way too.
About this time, I see a red and black R3T pull up next to my bike. I was sure that was not Morris but I was not expecting another R3 to park next to mine either. I went over and met Tom from mid-South Wisconsin. His is a 2013 model and he pulled a camper trailer to Sturgis. We talked for a bit and he and his troop motored off to the Black Hills. Great fellow and I told him about the forums. He said he had read several posts but had not joined either yet.
Morris showed up right after this group left. I have not seen more than a few dozen Rockets, but I must say Morris’ ride is so **** cool to see in person; pictures do not do it justice. The boys were still talking about his bike when I left Denver several days later. The new CES headers he has hooked up look great and fit the ensemble to a tee. You have a great looking bike Morris!
Enough brown nosing, we talked about the route to Mt. Rushmore and since I had it in my GPS already, I became the lead. Liam would follow me then Preston and then Morris’ tribe followed finally by Antony in the chase car. Antony lasted until Deadwood and decided he did not need to see Mt. Rushmore all that bad. We were separated twice and he was able to catch back up when we stopped but after being cut off by bikes the third time, he gave up and went back to Sturgis for gin and tonic. I really wished he had not sold his bike two weeks before. Timing really sticks at times.
As for being the road captain, I do not think I could have been worse at it today. I stopped a few times and we took pictures along the way and saw a beautiful mountain lake. However, it seems that I misjudged each launch out of the parking areas and had to allow other riders to pass so we could group up again. Morris and his bunch are gracious people and did not flame me, but I still felt like a turd. We did make it to Mt. Rushmore where you pay $11 per bike to get in. Parking is good though and they do have decent food that is not too expensive. I ate the bison burger, as did Liam. Preston had the meatloaf and was quite happy he said.
After seeing the great work of art, we met up with Morris in the garage where we split groups. They went on to Crazy Horse and I decided to take my two back to Sturgis. I was worried about leaving Antony alone and it looked like rain towards Crazy horse. We got a few drops on us heading back to town but nothing like the night before. We met up with Antony and left the bikes at camp and all rode in to town in his car. Liam noted that 35 MPH in a car now seemed incredibly slow; he is starting to really understand this motor life. Parking in Sturgis is not bad for bikes even though you may not get all bikes next to each other, but finding a “cage” friendly space is a bit tougher. We ate at the steak house and had another laugh fest recounting earlier camp outs and family funny moments. People must have thought we were all drunk but we really had only just started. (This is one of those great memories a dad holds onto for rough times in the future). Oh yeah, food was great, waitress was hot, we saw more fishnet tops and pasty covered nipples; good times.
After dinner, we walked the streets and took in the sights. Harley, Indian, Victory were the prominent show venders, with many smaller independent shops along the way. Some made trikes, some were paint specialist, some did great leatherwork; basically, anything you can think of for a motorcycle, someone had a shop for that.
It was somewhere about this time I realized my body was tired. I told the boys I needed to make sure my sleeping bag was still functional but they could hang out as long as they didn’t get arrested, or in any fights. And most importantly, keep the youngest out of trouble… (and take pictures).
I was in the bag by 10:30 and asleep before they pulled away. They went to the Beaver Bar across the highway, (I am sure it is named for the dam building animal), where the two older brothers hooked their younger sibling up with a hand full one $1. Judging from the video I saw, his poor little cheeks must be sore from all the abuse those dancing girls gave him. He only drank half a glass of beer they tell me but it is good to know he is off to a good start going into his senior year of High School.
They woke me up around 3am when they came back. Antony and Liam could not stop talking and laughing about the night. Preston took off to the outhouse and I noticed he had not returned after 30 minutes. The other two were now asleep and snoring their night away. Preston is a tough kid and truly not afraid to scrap. Which is why I am concerned because he has a hot temper. I keep listening for any sounds of distant fights but never hear any. Around 4:30, he shows up limping and tells me he got lost. There could be a story here, but I will not be telling it...

Day five Aug 5th…
I had told the boys we would not be riding today. Even though Liam had not really complained about any riding related issues other than his left wrist, I know the boy is just playing it tough. I want him to have a break before riding back to Denver tomorrow. Preston also needed some time off the bike since he only got a few hours of sleep. Besides, it may be raining all day anyhow.
At breakfast, I spoke with several bikers and made some new friends. One fellow was telling about his buddy that rode with him from Minnesota and how they had grown up together and now live on the same street. Their other boyhood friend had ridden in yesterday from Casper, WY and left last night to go back home. The three of them graduated HS together, joined the Army together and all fought in Vietnam. It was a good 20-minute story and then the other Minnesota fellow walked up looking quite upset. He told us their friend from Casper did not make it home last night. He crashed along the way and was found dead shortly afterwards. Holy crap! They both started crying and embraced, and I cried too. I had just heard this great story of brotherhood while enjoying breakfast and then BAM! They left and the boys and I just sat there quietly for a while.
After hearing something like that, it is tough to get back into a good mood. We all rode into to town with Antony parking his car a few blocks away. He would need to leave around noon to get back in time for work the next day. The rain was mainly drizzle and we could move from one vender to the next without getting too wet. When we came up to the Victory tent, the boys saw R. Lee Ermy signing autographs. (He is the Gunny from Full Metal Jacket” and host of “Mail Call”). We waited in line to get ours signed photos and a group picture. What a cool fellow he is. He told us Jeep gives him a Wrangler to drive for a year and then they auction it off for a veteran’s charity and he gets a new one. I think Victory does something similar. What a job. I had met him once before in Tampa at a SOCOM convention when he was the Glock Rep. Same nice person at each place.
At the Indian area, we saw the new Roadmaster and were surprised like many other people at seeing a Scout. The new Scout is a direct competition for the Sportster. It costs less, has more power they say, and has a water-cooled engine. I did not hear it run but it does look great.
At the Harley area, we watched the demo team do their stunts. The kid on the Road Glide really impressed me by all the wheelies and turns on the back wheel. This is not a big area to maneuver but he did a great job of slow speed back wheelwork. Then two fellows mounted purpose built Sportsters and did the same kind of stunts you see sport bike riders doing. Finally, they brought out a bone stock new Street 750, (more quite than a Gold Wing) and did the same kind of stuff on it. It looked good but one of the women next to us said she has one and does not like it. Her only real complaint is the fit and finish and had nothing bad to say about how it rode around town. She has not taken it out on the highway she said but she expected more from Harley on the paint. I think for the price and its intended purpose, that aint so bad.
The rain hit hard now and we ducked in for some food. After we ate, Antony took off. The other two and I walked the venders for hours and still did not view them all. At one point, we found ourselves inside Charlie’s clothing store and restaurant. The t-shirt prices were ok and I noticed they were all Philippine. I guess that explained why they sold both food and clothing; kind of a normal business model everywhere else with folks from the PI. I ended up buying most of my Sturgis paraphernalia here. They also gave us trash bags to wear as raincoats, great place to do business.
Across the street from them was a trailer selling Cajun food. This is where we had the great Gumbo. Liam even went back for a second bowl of the stuff.
It was still raining when the sun went down and we headed back to camp. Preston was limping somewhat noticeably but would straighten up each time I look his way. I asked about it and he said it was no problem just a little sore. Hmm, to recap his misadventures so far, he was stung under his eye, got smack by a dead bird tossed up by my bike and now has a sprung ankle that I have made him walk on all day. I do not think I will put myself in for Dad of the Year…
Day six, Aug 6th
We awoke and packed up camp. Both boys wore backpacks and everything else went on Brahma. Since we did not see Crazy Horse on the first day, I told them we would ride by on the way home. They kept their trash bag raincoats in case it got wet. Guess what? It got wet; real **** wet. On the road from Deadwood to Crazy Horse, the sky just opened up on us. And it was cold rain at that! I had on full rain gear but was getting quite chilled. I knew the other two must be colder than I, especially since they don’t have extra body fat to keep them warm like me. Just before we got to Crazy Horse, the rain was coming down so hard that it could not run off the pavement and I started to feel the sloppiness in the handlebars. I threw in the towel and ducked into Boyd’s Antique store run by Boyd and “Donk”, the oldest donkey in the Black Hills. Boyd is in his 80s and looks like he rode with Custer. He seems like a cranky old fart at first, but talk a bit and you discover he is all there and has much to talk about. He explained the business to the boys who found it very interesting much to my surprise.
We sheltered here for almost an hour before the rain let up enough to be semi-safe to ride. As we approached Crazy Horse, the mountain was wrapped up by clouds so we did not stop. Seventeen years ago, Liam cut his first tooth while the family visited Crazy Horse on a camping trip. I thought it would be cool to revisit the same.
We ate in Custer, SD and saw that a huge storm cell was coming in from the west towards New Castle where we intended to go. So, we headed south on Hwy 18 instead. However, the high winds on this route were much worse than the trip up from Denver. It rained off and on until we finally hit I-25. By now, we had lost a lot of time and Preston was anxious about getting home that night since he had to be at work by 8 am the next day. Another even bigger and darker storm cell was ahead of us on I-25 and I said it does not look good to ride through. He said he would go alone if he had to, so I decided we would press until it actually did get bad. That came about ten minutes later when the worst wind I have ever ridden in hit us from the right side. It tossed me across the centerline and both boys were pushed even further. Liam held his own well on the little Ninja but this was horribly unsafe. The rain (not hail) was hitting me so hard it felt like I was being shot with simunition (paint rounds fired by gunpowder not compressed air; we use them in real weapons for training and they hurt much worse than paint balls). I saw an exit just ahead and we ducked in under the over pass. We walked up to the highest portion where the rain is still reaching us due to the high wind. A minute later and the hail came in. It was only pea-sized but moving fast. Preston was getting angry now at the events beyond our control. His GF was also giving him stress, which is just no good for anyone. Several cagers showed up and I saw one woman visibly upset. I felt bad for her man, as she was hysterical.
Then, it stopped. All was quite. We accessed the bikes, found all good and intact, and mounted up once more. By the time we made it to Cheyenne, I had decided that we were done. It was after 10:30 and even though Liam said he could go on the last two hours to Denver, I knew I was felling hypothermic so they must be as well. We have been cold and wet for hours even with my rain gear but their trash bags had long sense departed. Hey, isn’t this supposed to be SUMMER?!? Preston decided he could not wait it out with us and I knew it is a bad idea for him to go it alone. I also knew his state of mind with his work and his GF. I calmed his temper down some by reminding him his 23rd birthday is Sunday and I sure want him to be there for it. We embraced and off he went. He arrived home sometime after 1:30 am and let me know he was safe via text.
Liam and I found one room left in town and took it. As I unpacked, I discovered that everything inside my water resistant bag, which had been covered by its waterproof cover, was soaked. The rain had been so intense that it acted as if the bag was submerged I suppose. I laid everything out to dry over night and fell asleep.

Day seven, Aug 7th
Liam and I awoke and had a nice breakfast in the hotel; I use the word ‘nice’ loosely in this case. When you get down to basics, food only has to accomplish two things; it has to fill a void and make a turd. Anything above that is unnecessary.
We repacked all the gear and loaded the bikes. Several other bikers were on their way to Sturgis and one other guy was leaving the place like us. One Harley guy was surprised to know my bike was a 2014 saying he thought for sure he had read they quite making them in 2008 due to low sells and poor quality. I do not think he was trying to be a jerk but I did let him know he was mistaken.
The rest of the trip to Denver was smooth and beautiful. Again I marveled at how green everything still is this late in the summer.
Day Eight, Aug 8th
It is time to head to my Parents’ place down in Lefors TX. Do not be upset if you find it is hard to find on the map. It only has about 200 residents now; but it does have two paved streets. The ride was great and without needing to check my six constantly, I felt free again. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely enjoyed riding with the boys. But it is time to get poor gas mileage once more.
I flew through Colorado Springs and then through Pueblo. Almost no wind and the bike knew it was beginning the trip home. I fueled up in Raton, NM before heading past the ever-popular Capulin Volcano. It is cool but I pass by as I have many miles to devour and Brahma is feeling his oats right now. This is a steady downhill grade for the most part and I had the wind to my back. Several times, I saw the GPS reading 100+ mph. Got to watch that as this is a “Safety Corridor” where fines are doubled for some stupid reason.
As I hit Dumas, TX, I see those familiar thunderclouds ahead of my path towards Borger, so I don my rain gear once more. Even though I see the storm, I am feeling great. It is not uncommon I hear, that the feelings I am experiencing now are normal. I am excited to be back in the land of my youth. The smells of the area are bringing back memories and even the unpleasant ones seem to comforting. The closer I get to Stinnett and Borger, the more petro-chemical smells enter the nose. I’m close to home now. I turn south out of Stinnett and just before crossing the Canadian River, a Meadow Lark flies into my right fog light and explodes all over the place. The bird hits hard enough that the light is now pointing upwards. Bird guts cover the light and part of the windscreen inside and outside. I guess the lowers flow the air up inside enough that parts went in that way. I had the rain jacket open since it was not raining yet and noticed I had guts on my vest. Cool…
Once in Borger, I see the roads are wet and the wind is stronger. I turn towards Pampa and see several trees freshly uprooted along side of the road, uh-oh. I motor on and find the rain just ahead. Not too hard but steady. The wind is strong as well but not as bad as Wyoming was a few days ago. I make it into Pampa with no more worries other than narrowly missing being peed on while passing a cattle truck; make sure you give them a wide birth when passing. Trust me on this one.
Lefors is just 11 miles from Pampa and I roll into the little village with a big smile. I see the old dirt track I once raced on and it looks used once more; that makes me smile. I turn off the paved road and onto a rough dirt road (reminds me of the highways in NJ) and then turn onto the street my folks live on. You got to watch out for the sand traps, they are tough to ride a big bike through. As I ride into the driveway, my dear sweet little momma steps out the back door; I am home.
Day nine, Aug 9th
I ride into Pampa to visit my best friend from high school. He and I used to race dirt bikes together. His adult son was at his shop and talking about buying a Smart car and putting a Hyabusa engine in it as he had seen some on YouTube. When he saw the R3 engine, he thinks that would be more fun. Between these two goofballs, I bet they can figure it out too.
On the way back to Lefors, I decided to go by the old dirt track. Of course, the road up to it is dirt as well; at least I thought it was. It is actually very deep, very fine sand; holy heavy machine Batman. I made it up to the old gate and realized that no one conducts sanctioned races here anymore but people still ride it. Now then, how do I turn the bike around when it is buried in the sand?!? Very carefully of course. People may think one cannot get a motorcycle stuck; but I am here to tell you it is possible. After several minutes of clutch and throttle work, I managed to turn the beast around without dropping it. Man do I need a beer right now!

Day ten, Aug 10th
It’s Sunday morning and I am headed to Lawton, OK for lunch with a retired USAF TAC-P buddy. He teaches at the Artillery School now and I have not seen him for several years.
The morning is cool and crisp as I ride out of Lefors, I cross the North Fork of the Red River and think the same thing I did as a kid, where did the water go? Once upon a time, this was a huge flowing waterway. After decades of farming though, it is dry most of the year. On the way towards McLean, TX, I stop for a Kodak moment knowing I am not going to be back for a while. I still cannot get over how green everything is this time of year.
When I get to McLean, I take another picture next to the welcome sign mentioning old Route 66. Then I head to get gas. Across the street from the gas station, I see a new shed calling itself the “Chuck Wagon” (must be a popular name huh?) and am told they have the best breakfast burritos in the Panhandle. OK, sounds worth a try then. I ride over and sure enough, I cannot remember every having a breakfast burrito as delicious as this little shed makes. You sit outside to eat and the proprietor was cooking pork chops on a charcoal grill next to the eating area. I spoke with him for a while and he tells me he decided to open up a few months ago and will open a sit-down restaurant a few blocks away come wintertime. I will indeed plug this little shop for anyone traveling across I-40, stop and give their grub a go, you will not be disappointed. And since I am plugging McLean, TX, give the Red River Steak house a try for dinner sometime. This is the only trip to the Panhandle of Texas where I did not eat there. They are great; nuff said.
Now then, back to the ride. Oklahoma is not far away and I soon turn off the I-40 super slab and head south on 283 intending on turning in Altus OK, but I never made it there. Instead, I got distracted by the mountains I saw off in the distance and went East on 19 before making Altus. I had enough time to get to Lawton so a little detour was in order. Many folks think OK and TX are boring flat states, BS. Sure, I rode past farmers’ fields full of beans, corn and other crops, but open your eyes and take in the hills popping out of the plains. Most are remnants of past volcanoes and look cool to me.
I mentioned farmers’ field. If you did not know, these are the places where government scientist experiment of the size they can grow grasshoppers. Everyone knows the UN is trying to get the world on an insect diet. Well, if they do not stop their experiments soon, we will have to hunt the grasshoppers with shotguns! Holy giant bug Batman, these critters are big and painful. If three or four hit your bike at one time, it slows you down by 10 MPH. The front of my pants is almost solid with bug guts by the time I make it to Lawton. I was hoping my friend and his family would not notice, as I know they will be dressed nice coming straight from church.
I rolled into the Texas Road House about five minutes before our schedule meet up. Since he is a forward controller by trade, I sent when a text stating I was ‘on station’. (I thought it was funny anyway). He sent me a text that they have arrived on station and I sent one back stating I had a visual, proceed as frag’d. (I know, goofy talk, but one has to have some fun once in awhile).
His call sign is Deacon and his wife is Joy; she lives up to it as well in every way I can think of. This knucklehead Deacon has really scored with this lady. We eat and his two sons are extremely well behaved young men. The meal is great and I bid them farewell after about two hours of conversation. Next stop is Lupe’s casa in Tulsa.
Several months earlier, I had arranged to stay in Joplin with a friend from high school, but something happened and she had temporarily moved in with her daughter and would not be able to host. I left it there and figured that she had some issues not needing to become public. Turns out she attempted suicide but failed to follow through. My friend Chris here in VA succeeded a few weeks ago, Robin Williams did too and now her. I hear it must be the moon somehow. Luckily, I had mentioned to Lupe that I would be riding through and wanted to meet him for diner if he was available. When this fell though, I asked Lupe if I could borrow his couch and if you know Lupe, as many of you do know, he very graciously offered me shelter for a night.
The ride from Lawton to Tulsa is only three hours and roughly a tank of gas. I figured I would not stop until almost to his house but a woman in OKC tried to stop me forever. As I began to pass her on the left in the fast lane, I made eye contact with a boy in the back seat of her car. He smiled and waved and I nodded back. Right at the moment, I noticed the car was coming closer. I snapped eyes forward in case I was drifting right but saw I was firmly in the right side of my lane. I laid on the horn and pulled a hand full of brakes at the same time. She just looked at me as if I was a figment of her imagination and came right on over. I missed her back bumper by a foot or so, but not more than that. Scared the crap out of the little boy too I saw…
Lupe and I were talking on phone as I closed in on Tulsa. He told me to go to a soccer park where he was watching Lore play soccer. I found the place with no issue and there was Lupe standing in the middle of the road waving me in as I approached. Tulsa was warm today, the hottest day of the trip so far. Yet standing out there under a shade tree getting to know Lupe was the perfect way to spend a late afternoon. By the way, Lore’s team whooped the other team something like 18-1 or so. Do not challenge these girls to soccer unless you can handle a beating.
After the game, I followed Lupe on his beautiful blue Ninja 500. Now do not go given him any crap about the little bike, these things are fun to ride and are now becoming collector’s item as they aren’t made any more. He took me to a simply wonderful little Mexican restaurant where I had a great Carne Asada with Apple Soda from Mexico. What a prefect meal after riding all day.
I then followed him home where he did a very good job of keeping my RPMs up along the way. At his place, he showed me his toys (yes I am jealous) and introduced me to my couch; turns out to be one of the best sleeping beds of my trip. Lore brought our some watermelon seasoned with a spice mixed called Tajin (mixture of red chili, lemon and other stuff) it is great on watermelon. I am buying some when I go to the store next time.
Talking with Lupe is great and I found I did not want to go to bed even though I felt sleepy as heck. Finally I gave up and told him I needed some shut eye and off to never-never land I went. I slept through the night as if I was in my own bed. In the morning, I grabbed a banana and some water and went out to pull Brahma from his garage. His other bikes look great, the R3, the HD and especially that super cool paint job on his Honda. It looks black until you get it out in the sunshine, then you see it is actually checkered like the flag at the finish line. Cool, cool, cool. I really hated to say good-bye!