Broken Spoke

What can I say about Sturgis that hasn’t been said before. Not much. So what I can do is describe my week as it’s sure to be different than most.

Thursday Noon: Point the truck and trailer south, then west.

Thursday evening: Drink beer in the parking lot of Brian Klock’s shop in Mitchell, SD, as mentioned in last week’s blog.

Friday AM: Wake up in the Mitchell Best Western (great motel), shower, shave, have breakfast at Mac and Don’s (they have wi-fi), and then hit the road for Sturgis.

Friday early afternoon: Stop at the Firehouse Saloon in Sturgis on Lazelle, and drop off more Sturgis 70th books to Kimmy Cruz, who sells them over the bar.

It was a somewhat quiet week in downtown Sturgis this year – exceptions include the Broken Spoke Saloon, where Jay and Jay kept everyone entertained while Michael Lichter recorded it all for posterity.

Friday evening: Enjoy a great dinner at Roma’s in Spearfish with a bunch of Shadleys and Shadley friends.

Saturday: Start the day at the coffee shop in Spearfish (Common Grounds, more wi-fi) then head to Sturgis for reconnaissance and to collect my press passes for The Chip and Broken Spoke.

Kimmy Cruz serving beers at the Firehouse, and selling those hard-to find-Sturgis 70th books.

Saturday night: Another fine dinner at Roma’s. Yes, I’m in a rut, but when the food is this good who cares.

Sunday morning: Back to Common Grounds. Then off to Sturgis to find the famous and infamous Bean’re at The Chip. Turns out he’s hangin at the Chip’s waterin’ hole: Bikini Beach, which unfortunately is pretty quiet when I get there. I promise myself a return trip to the Beach but never do make it back.

Sunday night: Attend the American Bagger party on the west side of Spearfish. Lots of lies to tell and people to meet. Including Travis who lives near Vegas and tells me about some great old Nevada junkyards that will make great photo backdrops for my next trip to Vegas to shoot old Triumphs during the January auction. I also enjoy some very interesting conversations with “Little Ronnie” crew chief for David and Jody Perewitz’ Bonneville team. I was ready to stay and listen to Ronnie all night - until I saw the light show start in the western sky.

Registration at the Chip is slow, but when you consider the thousands of people there, it’s surprising it doesn’t take even longer.

Monday: Bean’re told me to meet him in Deadwood, at the Silverado Hotel, at 8 Am, as part of the Legends Ride. I show up at 8:15 and Deadwood is dead….. turns out the ride doesn’t really even get organized until 11. Oh well, plenty of time to drink coffee, take a few photos, and shop. I do meet Bean’re eventually, and chat with cronies like Arlen Ness and Donnie Smith.

Bean’re and pals waiting for the Legends ride to leave Deadwood.

Monday afternoon: As the Legends Ride leaves Deadwood headed for Lead, I turn the other way and take Boulder Canyon Highway to Sturgis and eventually the Broken Spoke campground, sometimes called “County Line.” A media friend asked me to take some “pool shots.” So I did just that. But the weather was cool and the crowd small, good pool shots would have to wait. I did get to say hello to GTP, George The Painter, of Iron Horse Magazine fame.

Tuesday AM: I’m up early, off to the Chip again to meet Chris Callen editor and owner of Cycle Source Magazine. We spend an hour talking about the new book: Custom Bike building Basics, by (yes) Chris Callen and Cycle Source. Chris has a ride starting later that day, so I’m out of there by eleven AM, headed for Spearfish.

Controlled chaos in front of the Franklin Hotel.

By 1:00 PM a small group of us are headed to Belle Fourche and then to the Stonehouse Saloon and eventually Devil’s Tower. Just before we arrive at the Tower, it starts to rain, so we take refuge the little log-house bar on the corner. Eventually the rain passes, we ride up to the back side of the Tower, take the mandatory annual pics and then head for Sundance and The Dime. By eight PM, after a high-speed chase down the freeway, we're all safely ensconced in the Steak house in Spearfish. Tuesday afternoon is definitely the most fun day of my Sturgis week.

Wednesday: I spend most of the early afternoon watching guys on everything from Baggers to eight-second real-race bikes, drag race on a closed off highway. This is almost as much fun as Tuesday afternoon except that they’re racing and I’m taking photos.

Back side of the Tower, with rain clouds receding in the distance.

Next stop, County Line Campground and the world’s biggest biker pool. As I walk up to the pool area they are just starting the “belly flop contest.” I can only say it’s good to see grown men doing their best to act like fourteen year old boys. Though I never have seen a fourteen year old with a beer-belly like the ones I saw descending into the pool. The resulting waves were titanic in size and scope. In fact, the first one forced me to move back lest I drown the expensive digital camera.

Some serious iron running in the street drags. Close lane Is Crazy John on his “FXR” complete with S&S 145, slick for a rear tire, and a big bottle of ha-ha gas.

Thursday morning, 5:30 AM: I tip toe out of Tom and Mary Jo’s house in Spearfish, trying not to wake anyone up. As I go out the door all I can hear is Tommy snoring. Twelve hours later (I took a break in Mankato, Minnesota) I pull into the drive. As always I have a couple of thousand images to sort through – and a lot of sleep to catch up on.

Who has more fun than Bikers?

My Sturgis hangover is finally over. I’ve caught up on my sleep, begun to eat real food again, and re-trained myself to postpone the first beer until 5:00 PM.

Our newest pinstriping book is nearly finished, all we need is a little help from our friends (and Artie’s friends).

What’s left in this void is work, pure and simple. Job number one is to finish the Pro Pinstripe book, a series of start-to-finish pinstriping sequences done with a lot of help from East Coast Artie and a group of his talented friends. At this point we have all the photos picked and laid out, but we’re waiting for Artie and his talented friends to get it in gear and write some captions to fill those little boxes below each photo. Anything they write is so much better than my own lame descriptions of what’s going on or why they guy used red instead of blue…. But of course there’s the wait.

Here we have Nubs of OCC fame, striping an electric guitar – just one of the sequences found in our new Pro Pinstripe book.

And between and betwixt all this Pinstriping work is the topic that’s really at the top of my list – The Sturgis Book. So far I’ve inventoried my photos, sent copies to various people like the crew from the Broken Spoke, and tried to cajole the staff from the Spoke and the Chip into putting our book on their web sites.

Ernie (he who had to stay after school one night in Sturgis) and I go back and forth with ideas for the book, and Scooter (master photographer) is on The Salt, so I can’t get all his photos yet.

The idea is to send the Pro Pinstriping book, and the Sturgis 70th Anniversary book, to the printer at the same time. All in the name of saving a buck or maybe three. The deadline looms. Christmas is indeed just around the corner. Damn, I’d better get to work.

The Sturgis 70th and Pro Pinstripe books are joined at the hip like Siamese twins, both gotta go to the printer at the same time.

Yes, Daytona Bike Week is alive and well. Despite the economy, the really big Harley Store north of Daytona that threatened to kill Daytona Bike Week, and some of the worst Bike Week weather in 20 years, a whole lot of people showed up with their long johns and chaps to ride and party.

At the Broken Spoke there’s always something going on and plenty to see.

The first part of my week wasn’t even in Daytona, but farther south. In Mt. Dora I managed to shoot five old trumpets amid the even older buildings that adorn the small city. The bikes included a nice original TR6, as well as a 1953 Blackbird – which is a T-bird painted black instead of blue by the factory. At any rate, by Friday I’d had enough of the staid Triumphs, I wanted bikes that make too much noise ridden by fools who have too much fun.

The TR6 dates from 1957, the Lakeside Inn from 1883 – a very nice piece of Old Florida.

And if there’s one place where you’re guaranteed to have too much fun it’s the Broken Spoke Saloon out on Highway 1. Unlike the real bikers, I was riding in the rental Chevy. And unlike the bikers, and even the posers on motorcycles, I was warm on the way back to the motel each night. I gotta give it to those folks, they stayed late, drank to excess and then rode home in 40 degree temperatures.

A perpetual motion machine, Jay Allen is the man who keeps the party rockin’ at the Spoke.

The weather did improve slightly through the week, but the wind blew from the north all day and all week. Every day, as the sun went down the temperature followed. Mornings seemed quiet, perhaps because riders waited patiently for the temperatures to warm up a bit before leaving the comfort of the motel room.

The afternoon sun, filtered by the trees, made for some really nice picture taking.

How busy was Daytona? By late in the week when I finally arrived at the nirvana of motorcycle parties, the VACANCY signs on Atlantic Boulevard were few and far between. I ended up in what can only be called a very expensive shit-hole - the result of my own poor planning. Eventually I did get over my bad attitude and enjoyed the weekend wishing for only for one thing – my motorcycle.

When it’s hot in Daytona, you have to drink beer to cool off. When it’s cold in Daytona, you gotta drink beer to ward off the chill.

This year I flew in and out of Jacksonville, which makes for a long drive to Daytona, but affords me the luxury of decompressing for one day in St. Augustine, a very fun, funky and laidback city. Next year maybe I’ll drive down from Minnesota. That way I can drag the motorcycle with me. And if the weather is really warm on the day I’m scheduled to leave Florida, I can just say “to hell with it” and stay in St. Aug one more day.

Redheads, blonds and brunettes, they all work at the Spoke.

Hats and heavy jackets were the order of the day.