Lakeside Inn

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.