The Sturgis Diary

Sturgis is a small town in western South Dakota with a year round population of around 7,000 people.  It sits on the edge of the Black Hills National Forest where you can find the Mt. Rushmore National Memorial, Devil’s Tower (of Close Encounters fame), Custer State Park and assorted frontier towns like Deadwood where you can gamble in a casino and toss down a frosty one in a saloon.  There is a lot to do and see, but all of these attractions played second fiddle to the reason that my motorcycle Amigo, John Linn, and I set out Sturgis on our motorcycles from Eugene, OR on Friday 8/2/19.  After you’ve ridden a motorcycle for a while, you can’t help but catch the Sturgis bug and, drawn like a moth to a flame, find yourself wanting to join tens of thousands of other bikers in making the annual pilgrimage to one of the largest rallies held in the US each year.  The prospect of congregating in the same place with other two- and three-wheel enthusiasts presents the allure of a ride through awe-inspiring landscapes, the reward of seeing mechanical works of art and an opportunity to shed everyday routine for an escape into a surreal world where you can live out your inner bad-ass biker fantasies.  We were not disappointed.  The 79^th Annual Sturgis Motorcycle Rally delivered on all accounts.

Setting out for South Dakota from the West Coast, the intensity of the journey begins sedately and builds slowly.  At first, you are still one of a few motorcycle riders amidst a sea of cars, trucks and recreational vehicles.  Gradually, as you approach Motorcycle Mecca, the number of other bikers starts to increase, and, as you near Sturgis, motorcycles gain the upper hand and eventually you become one of the majority, not the minority.  Solo motorcyclists, couples riding together on the same bike and eventually larger and larger groups of riders start to appear with more frequency.  Eventually, large groups of people riding together will appear coming the opposite direction or you’ll come up behind such large packs of bikes that passing starts to become a challenge that requires one-part daring do and another part sheer adrenaline as speeds increase well over the 80 mile per hour speed limits that are common in parts of Idaho, Montana and Wyoming.  The sound of wind and the exhaust exceeds anything you’ve experienced before and you start to appreciate the mechanical miracle that late-model motorcycles represent.  Riding like the wind is no longer a concept but your reality.  Wheeee!

Arriving in Sturgis and making your first visit downtown where Main Street has been blocked off for 4 or 5 blocks for motorcycle-only parking is a head-spinning experience.  At first, the sights and sounds completely overwhelm your senses.  It’s really hard to take it all in.  There are throngs of people dressed and undressed in every manner possible and hundreds of bikes of every make lining the curbs as well as the middle of the street (parked head to head).  Through it all, bikers ride one-up and two-up, making an oval circuit from one end of downtown to the other.  From any spot on the sidewalk or from a chair in an open-air saloon, you can lose yourself in the mesmerizing parade of humanity and mechanical marvels.  All you can do is grab your phone and start taking photos and videos, hoping to capture some of the organized mayhem.

One thing you notice right away in Sturgis is the police presence.  There are cops everywhere!  We learned that reinforcements are called in from all over the area, state and even the nation.  I suppose it’s a fun way to earn some extra cash and enjoy the show.  You realize right away that the police are not there to keep a tight lid on boisterous activity.  Jay walking, super loud exhausts, loitering and indecent exposure are par for the course.  No, the cops are there in force to keep things from getting really out of hand, to prevent violence, drug dealing, prostitution and other sorts of more serious and nefarious pursuits from cropping up in a visible way.  Roaring around on your bike is expected and certainly not discouraged.  No one is required to wear helmets, so you don’t see a lot of people wearing them, especially around town.  Good Oregonians that we are, John and I even ditched the head gear for shorter rides.  When in Rome …

There are so many other stories from this trip that I want to tell, but, realizing that the 1st of September has come and gone with no post to the blog, I publishing what I’ve got. Time will tell if I can get around to writing up some of our other adventures.