One we got on I-90 we got down to the task of covering distance. Crossing South Dakota is work. It is usually hot, wet, lightningy, sometimes haily, and always windy. Today it was just a windy 73 degrees with fluffly white clouds floating in a deep blue sky. We stopped every 75 miles for either a break, fuel, or both. Other than spending some at a rest stop bantering with church ladies offering cookies and coffee for donations, it was uneventful.
The Sturgis Motorcycle Rally was under way and means finding lodging anywhere within 100 miles of Sturgis was going to be difficult to find and expensive. The problem is that we hit Sturgis at 6pm. It would be too early to stop sooner, and it will be very late to stop later. Thus, we decided to have dinner there then stay in a hotel in Gillette, WY (we made reservations).
Just before Rapid City we got some rain. It was a short burst of medium intensity rain. As most cruiser riders shun protection and dress for the herd they were ill prepared for the rain. Some pulled onto the shoulder to don raingear as soon as any drops fell. Others waited until they were soaked before doing the same. They all crowded under overpasses, which resulted in all traffic slowing down and changing lanes to give them a wide berth. And that's where I saw one of the most dangerous, stupid things I have ever seen.
There were maybe 15 bikes under that specifc overpass, spilling out in front of and behind the covered area. But one idiot had stopped in the lane of traffic. Just stopped. No hazards, nothing. Ok.. maybe he had a lapse of reasoning. He was pulling a trailer, so he wasn't exactly a newbie. There had to be some smart people in the group who could point out just how dumb he is. Maybe someone did and he argued with them... as the semi's few past at 80 mph swerving to avoid him. I hope they all had room to swerve.
We rode on though the rain, wearing motorcycle-appropriate gear that kept us warm, dry and safe.
I had been through Sturgis before but it was cold and wet that year which meant few showed up. It was new for my father and brother. Against better judgement we went to the pirate party. Once downtown it was surprisingly easy to find parking spots. My brother pointed out that his 2000 VFR800 stood out 'like a yellow sportbike at Sturgis'.
We had dinner at the One Eyed Jack saloon and watched (and heard) the crowd. One guy fell off his chair but saved most of his beer. The average age was about 50, most all were men. All dressed alike to show that they are outlaws and not like anyone else in society. Most of women were middle-aged and under-dressed for their condition. There was plenty of eye-candy though... but they were nearly all employed in some capacity, most wore little more than pasties to remain legal. It was fun to see it in full swing, and those in attendance seemed to enjoying themselves immensly as they went in and out of the shops. I wonder if there was a quilting shop there.
The remainder of the day's 100 miles to Gillette was dark, cooler, and tiring. We had a GPS snafu which took us to the wrong side of town where, in a moment of exhausted inattention as we turned around, my dad dropped his bike when he stopped. We helped him up, used my brother's more up to date GPS, and got to our night's final resting place.
It was a 650 mile day, but now we have left the plains behind.
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