Rolling, Rolling, Rolling on the Road to Sturgis

Every year at the beginning of August thousands of motorcyclists converge on Sturgis, a small town in western South Dakota, for the Black Hills Motorcycle Classic, an event often described as 'Mecca for bikers.' Daniel Moriarty and I were among the faithful who made the pilgrimage this year.

Dan, a combo driver, rode his new-looking burnt red 1983 Harley Davidson XLX Sportster. I rode 'Gomer,' a ratty black 1968 XLH Sporster chopper. We had both just gotten our bikes out of the Iron Eagle Shop in Castaic, CA.

We left Dan's house about noon on Friday, August 2, and got to Las Vegas nine hours later. Because we were riding in very hot weather and were still breaking in the engines to our scoots, we would ride for about an hour at 50-55 mph and break for a half hour.

We left the Vegas KOA early to try to beat the heat. That was the plan, anyway. But I screwed up in packing my goodies on Gomer and held us up for at least an hour securing and re-securing my load. As we got underway, my stuff would lean to the right at about a 45 degree angle, threatening to fall off. It was a bit unsettling, and frustrating, too. After the third stop, I was able to quit worrying and enjoy the ride again.

We went north on I-15 and saw several Viking triples going south as we rode along. Before we knew it, we were out of Nevada, through Arizona, and in Utah. We turned east at I-70 and camped for the night in Richfield.

Sunday morning we rode to Salina for breakfast and gas. We knew that we faced an intimidating 108 miles to Green River without any gas stations. No problem, we thought, we'll just buy a one or two gallon gas can with gas and carry it with us. Yeah, right. None of the places we checked had gas cans that small.

Fortune smiled on us, slightly. A trucker, hearing of our plight, dug up a gallon container of window wash, distributed the contents among his buddies, and gave us the container. I filled it, bungeed it to the back of Gomer, and we were off. Well, as it turned out, we made it to the next gas station 108 miles down the road on what we had in our gas tanks. I used the gas in the container, and threw away the container.

We got as far as New Castle, CO and camped at the KOA there, a beautiful campground nestled right next to a stream in an evergreen forest, with squirrels scampering up and down the trees and birds chirping in the branches. If you are ever in that part of the world, do camp there for the night. You'll be glad you did.

The next day, we were up at sunup. An hour later, Dan and I began riding through the scenic Rockies, with green trees, multi-coloured rock formations, fantastic clouds, and lots of blue sky. We rode through Denver and turned north onto I-25 heading for Cheyenne, Wyoming.

As we got to the Wyoming border, Gomer ran out of gas! Just then a group of bros heading up to Sturgis stopped to take pictures of the border sign; one bro transferred some gas from his bike to mine, and we were able to continue.

We gassed up in Cheyenne, and seeing a fireworks store next to the station, decided to buy a few firecrackers for later. When we bought the merchandise we had to fill out a bill of lading, and the paper bag in which the firecrackers were carried had to have a hazardous material label that said, 'Explosives-Class C!' Dan and I traded jokes about transporting HM on our motorcycles before resuming our journey.

We left Cheyenne thinking we were headed north. When we crossed into Nebraska, we realised we'd taken a wrong turn somewhere. Checking our maps, we determined that we could still reach Sturgis via Highway 385.

At our last daylight gas stop, I discovered that my headlight didn't work!?!. So Dan and I rode for an hour-and-a-half in the dark using just his headlight. Believe me, I stayed real close to Dan during that time!

Thirteen hours after leaving New Castle, we stopped in Hot Springs, South Dakota for the night.

Next morning, on our way to Mount Rushmore, we were in a paradise of motorcycles. There were more Harleys than any other make, but other marques were well represented on the road. I saw VW-powered trikes, sidecar-equipped dressers, choppers, old bikes, new bikes, etc, etc.

There was a feeling of excitement all around and everyone was so friendly to each other. When we stopped for gas, we'd chat with riders from all over. It was nice, let me tell you.

When Dan and I arrived at the parking lot of Mt. Rushmore, we found a place, among the hundreds of motorcycles there, to park and dismounted. I was quite impressed with the sculpture making up the Mt Rushmore National Monument. We took some photographs of the monument, gazed at it for a while, and hit the road for Deadwood City.

In Deadwood City, we went to the Number 10 Saloon where Wild Bill Hickok was shot dead while playing poker. Dan and I played the slots until we got tired of losing. We were just havin' fun, anyway.

We rode toward Sturgis, deciding to stay at the Buffalo Chip Campground just outside of town. For less than $20 per night, we each got camping, access to food and beverages, and concerts by bands like Steppenwolf, Charlie Daniels, and the Doobie Brothers, among others. We stayed three nights there.

During the day, we'd ride to Sturgis and walk around taking in the sights, looking at motorcycles, babes, motorcycles, babes... We went to Deadwood City again, wandering around and checking out the saloons up and down the main drag.

Our last day in the area we went to Rapid City to 'Shotgun Willie's' a bar featuring strippers. There were some real beautiful ladies there, and in stark contrast to some other places to which I've been, they looked like they were having fun.

Friday morning Dan and I headed west along with Phil, an owner-operator out of the Bay area. Phil was on a late model 80" Harley and set the pace all the way to Reno.

Along the way, we stopped just east of Wright, Wyoming to photograph a herd of bison. Our concern about stampeding the herd from the noise we might make kept us from getting any real good pictures, however.

When we got to Reno, Phil went on to the Bay, Dan stayed in town to do some sightseeing, and I headed home to plan next year's trip to Sturgis.

Any Vikings wanting to go along with Dan and me are welcome to ride with us. Just contact either of us at SFV. See ya, and ride safe!


Fall 1991 Independent Times, Viking Freight