It's that time of year again. The 70th annual Sturgis Motorcycle Rally is in full swing. I hate it.
You might be thinking, "Res you live in Wyoming, what do you care what happens in South Dakota?" Normally you'd be right. Sturgis is different. In order to get to the rally from the west, most people come through Wyoming. There in is my problem with the whole mess.
There are two kinds of bikers at the rally. Those that rode their Hog and those who made the trip some other way. I hate them both. Those that rode come through town at all hours of the day and night, with the classic loud pipes. For those of you who don't know, Harley Davidson Motorcycles are the most efficient method of turning petroleum into decibels without the added inconvenience of horse power, ever invented by man. The other problem I have is environmental. I was stuck behind a pilot car in a work zone, they were resurfacing the road. There were 3 guys ridding Harleys. They left enough oil on the newly rocked road to make a British Petroleum offshore drilling executive blush with shame.
The second group trailer their bikes. These are my favorites. The $250,000 to $1,000,000 motor home with the $50,000 special bike trailer carrying $100,000 grand in bikes. They're my favorite because I remember a time when I was a bad boy biker. I owned a $100 Honda CL360. I drove the bike almost all the time, because that's what I had. I made maybe $5 an hour in those days. It's time to play, "lets get a clue". If you can afford to drop over six figures to come to a one week rally in South Dakota, you're not a bad boy biker. Chances are you're a pediatrician, programmer for a dot com start up that made it big before the bust, or an employee of a company that the government just bailed out. In other words you're not a bad boy, you're a poser.
Seriously, we see the California plates on the motor home, don't try to play tough guy big shot in our town. Assless leather pants don't make you bullet proof. When you come into Perkins for breakfast, just wait for your table and don't bother the locals. When you pull the "who you looking at?" crap, act tough, and try to start something, we just pull our guns and lay them on the table. That's known as calling your bluff. Running out and calling the cops, that was so bad boy biker of you.
A couple of years ago the BMW Riders of America had their rally in Wyoming. I had a group of 50 to 100 riders drive past my house. They barely made any noise, none of my windows rattled. I guess they even spent the night in town. No bar fights, no trashed restaurants, no arrests that I ever heard about. Apparently the grocery store ran out of organic yogurt, but no other incidents were reported.
For those of you curious about the difference between Harley and BMW riders, I have complied a brief list.
HD: Loud pipes save lives.
BMW: Riding a good bike sober saves lives.
BMW: 120 mph
HD: 120 mph??? You're making that up.
BMW: Let's stop, I need a couple of gallons of gas.
HD: Let's stop, I need a couple of gallons of oil.
BMW: Shower regularly, wash bike when needed.
HD: Wash bike, polish chrome, Armor All tiers and seat, make it shine. What's a shower?
BMW: Sporty matching riding gear.
HD: Black leather chaps and dew rag.
BMW: Electric start.
HD: Fat chick on back to kick start.
BWM: New personal speed record.
HD: New item on criminal record.
BMW: Earl Gray lightly brewed and some nice scones and jam.
HD: Ben Gay, man I hurt all over, 12 miles is a killer ride.
BMW: Great each other with hugs and kisses.
HD: Only hug and kiss if they spent time as roommates in the big house.