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Pack Your Suitcase, We’re Headed to Sturgis

Sturgis 86th bound

Well, for a few weeks prior to this year’s 86th annual rally I wasn’t sure I was going to make it. I always have the clause written in that the plug can be pulled right up to the last minute and the trip could be canceled. This year I felt like things were just working against me and due to poor planning (zero planning) the heat, this ridiculously small three-man tent I’ve only used once before, and a few weird dreams telling me to pull the plug. On top of that, I needed a new back tire to make the trip and due to once again, poor planning (no planning) I had to get it installed at work a couple of days before. Oh, and did I mention, on a morning ride to work just a few days before all this my Road King went into limp mode at a stop sign and just like the the term “limp” I made it to work without any throttle. Ugh. After Wayne put it on the lift, it was determined that we don’t know exactly the issue. So what do you do? You pack your suitcases and go. Screw it, let’s ride.

The ride there was pretty uneventful. Along the way I spoke with riders headed in both directions and I realized for some it was their first trip and for others it was a similar situation – last minute with minds changed to go is not unusual, and the length of how long to stay to be determined. Even I wasn’t sure how long I would be gone but deep down I knew it would be determined by weather, my mood or even the tolerance of a three-man tent. Little did I know…

750 miles later, I was confused. Not because of the heat or dehydration, but why it was 750 miles. I did go a different way but when Jeff leaves the station traveling at 70 mph, what time does he arrive at the rally? 11 and a half hours later I rolled into the campground. I needed a shower and to set up camp. Boy that tent looks really small. I throw all my gear in it and head into town to get something to eat. Once I got to Main Street I parked and headed to the Loud American for the usual beer and beef tip basket. It’s great walking around checking things out, and running into people you know. I’ve known Buffalo Mike for years coming to the rally and to see him within an hour of getting here is crazy. But is it really crazy? What’s crazy is this ritual of him putting his helmet with horns on my head. I guess we all have our thing and this happens to be his. He’s a great guy but if its hot and you’re sweaty, lets just shake hands. Hopefully, this helmet/horn/hair thing will end up in the Sturgis Museum as a tribute to the man who loves this rally.

After walking around a bit I decided to head back to Lamphere Campground and call it a day. As I parked the bike next to this 3-man dome tent I actually thought back to a couple of trips I made where I had the wrong rain suit packed. Apparently, I had mistakenly packed my wife’s rain suit for a trip to Boston, then forgot to take it out and replace with mine for the second trip with the Ride 50 at 50 boys. Anyone who has read any of my stuff knows the rain suit struggle was real. This tent is going to be a tight fit. I wonder who thought that three men would actually get into this thing. As I literally crawled into this torture device I knew it would be even harder to get out of in the morning.

Tuesday morning. Rough night sleeping even with ear plugs in, but necessary with Glenco Campground close by. I’m happy to have survived the night with a couple of hours of sleep, but I still need to get out of this tent with some dignity. I’m an early riser and it’s still dark but there is no way I’m even getting my socks on inside this dome from hell. Everything I packed with me is also in here so there’s that. I unzip the door and make my way outside and climb into an upright position, gather myself and head to the campground HQ for coffee. Last year while sitting at a table by myself, a guy and his girlfriend came over and asked me about my BMW F700 GS that was parked in front of us. We talked for about an hour about life and the rally, and all the things motorcycle related. He was a former member of a 1% club and had the tattoo of the club on his neck. I’ll admit, he is a great looking guy and a wonderful conversationalist, and I enjoyed talking to him and his girlfriend. The same thing happened again this year. Sitting at the same table, they walk up and sit down with me and we picked up where we left off. This to me is what this rally really is. We said what we always say – see you next year as hands were shaken.

I rode into town and parked on Main Street. Not much going on as it’s 8 am so I walk around a bit. It’s already hot and I’m figuring out what is on the agenda today. I walked over to the Indian Motorcycle display and met Pat Cornell who has set several world records on his Indian. I have followed him on social media during his record-braking ride and it was a pleasure talking to him. 146,000 miles in 146 days? I rode 750 yesterday to get to the rally and my ass was kicked. I didn’t mention that to him.

Back over onto Main Street, I see a guy changing his oil on a Kawasaki Vulcan 900. On Main Street. At 9 am. I have seen some weird stuff, but c’mon man. I’m not sure what the other guy is doing, but this is a first for me. (editor’s note; it was more serious than changing oil, But c’mon man)

Did I mention how hot it is? I walked over to a house on Lazelle Street where for the last 17 years a family has put up a stand and sold bottle water and soda. I have stopped here for years and watched their two girls grow up. I spoke with Kathy, their mother, as she was working the stand by herself until one of the girls comes to help. By the way, both girls are now flight attendants and they paid for college working during the rally. Again, this is what the rally is to me. Did I take a picture? Sorry, I didn’t. I walked over to he J&P Cycle corner and sat down on a bench in the shade. The rally is starting to get busier and I’m a people watcher so a bench is a great place to be. It never fails. Someone always sits down right next to me. I mean right next to me. This older guy and his wife were walking in the store and he said with a grump tone “I’m sitting here” and he did. She went in while he and I talked about the usual. They’re from Missouri and I heard about how she wants him to get a new helmet and he doesn’t want too. I heard about how she is ten years younger at 65 than he is. I heard how she brings the small dogs with them and he likes that. You know, life story stuff. She came back out and said let’s get you a new helmet – he said NO! and she walked back in. I said communication is the secret to a lasting relationship and he agreed.

Mid-day I decide to go to Rapid City to Black Hills Harley-Davidson. Big place, lot’s of vendors and some serious business of service, bike sales and parts and accessories. On the way over, east-bound traffic started to back up and of course mostly bikers and the like. It’s hot and not the type of situation that sells motorcycles if you know what I mean. This takes the fun right out of it. Thinking the worst is up ahead, after 30 minutes it ends up being a semi truck having mechanical issues. It could have been something worse.

I leave Black Hills Harley and head over to Texas Roadhouse just down the road. I take a seat at the bar and start the usual banter with those close by. I noticed they have a Texas Roadhouse Rally shirt and I tell the guy next to me that I’m leaving with one. He laughed, I laughed and it was game on. I asked the waiter and he was very sure that it wasn’t going to happen. I asked the shift manager and she laughed like I was kidding and said they’re only for employees. I said I would fill out an employment application if that would help. They weren’t hiring. But out of the back came the store manager with a shirt for me and I was shocked (not really). Maybe they’ll call me in to work a shift or two.

Heading back after scoring the shirt I hit hard rain on I-90. I had the idea all I needed was my rain jacket not pants on and clearly I don’t know anything. I pulled off at an exit followed by an old man and we sat at the stop sign while it rained. Knowing it wouldn’t last, it wasn’t worth putting my rain pants on over wet shoes and jeans, I stood there like a man and just let it rain on me. What about the old man? Yeah, I’ve had better conversations. He just wasn’t a happy guy. I even told him about my new t-shirt and he didn’t care. Seeing a small break in the rain, I took off for the Full Throttle Saloon.

Pictures won’t do it justice, so why bother? It’s big and loud and holds lots of people. The main reason I go is for the Michael Lichter bike show. It’s quiet in here and the custom bikes are great. And once again pictures won’t do them justice. I also spoke with a guy from Australia and we became fast friends. Lot’s in common except for his cool accent and full head of hair. I liked talking to him because he brings a perspective to the rally we in America often lose. He loves it here and the rally for him doesn’t disappoint. He shook my hand and appreciated the conversation. Likewise, my friend.

The Full Throttle Saloon is quite the place. I always go in the afternoon before the concert goers start to show up. It’s crazy enough but I don’t need more crazy. As I headed out the door to get on the Road King, I spot this individual just standing in the parking lot. I thought to myself, here’s a person who doesn’t fit in but also one that does fit into the Sturgis Rally. You can see it all here if you just look up from your phone. The people, the stories, the sights and sounds. It’s all here. For a couple of weeks, people come from all over the world to be who they want to be. Whether it’s authentic or just for show who knows or cares. But somehow I took his picture without him knowing. Welcome to the rally!

Time to head back to camp to figure out if I’m going to stay another day or head back Wednesday. Looking at the weather, there is rain in the forecast so I’m leaning on packing my suitcases and heading back. While thinking this through, I pulled up to my miniature size home only to see that one of the two poles that holds my whole life together has snapped. Yep, I might as well be sleeping in a bread sack. This was the sign I needed to pack up and leave. Oddly, I slept like a champ with a tent folding up around me. I woke up, slithered out of the tent, packed up and headed out just as the sun was coming up.

The first 180 miles we great. The temperature was cool but warming, and the Road King had been humming along great this whole trip. I stopped in Alliance Nebraska for gas and you could feel the heat rising. The rest of the ride will be miserable, and it was. But I rode like the wind, and for once I didn’t listen to music on the ride home. I thought a lot about stuff I haven’t thought of for a while. Things that needed to be sorted out or rehashed in this beautiful mind of mine. You know the one – right under this beautiful head of hair on my head.

What is next year going to be like? Have I had enough of this rally? I don’t know, but I have a few months to think about it. As for the other stuff, there will need to be more time sorting those thoughts out. After another 750 miles on Wednesday, I realized I rode there and back in 24 hours total on Monday and Wednesday and I spent a total of 36 hours at the rally. Worth it? It was, but it wasn’t easy. As for the tent? I left it in the trash. The Road King? Never missed a beat (I wasn’t worried at all).

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Can Harley-Davidson still sell the Lifestyle?

There’s plenty of talk the last couple of years about Harley-Davidson. Most recently with the CEO Jochen Zeitz, stepping down, the internet has had plenty of posts and comments from those who want to weigh in on what H-D has done wrong. Disclaimer; I don’t have the answers.

I’m mostly writing this from my experience, and basic knowledge of being a Harley enthusiast and owner of many Harley-Davidsons. I’ve work in the motorcycle industry for over 16 years and have had my share of long conversations about the Motor Company and what appears to be, a business in decline. So here are some of my thoughts on the matter and since my phone isn’t ringing, apparently nobody is asking me.

Social media can be quite the venue for opinions and observations. I have spent more time than I really should reading comments from many fellow riders who feel passionate about what is going on behind the Motor Company’s shrinking dealer network, seemingly higher prices, aging core customer base and the reason H-D is where they are.

I sold new Harley-Davidson’s for 10 years and I admit, I like the brand and what it represents. At that time I felt that it truly was a lifestyle – at least that’s how I sold them. But honestly, I also believed it, and perhaps I still do. But motorcycles, regardless of the badge on the tank, is a lifestyle. The difference is the Motor Company took it all to another level. From the history of Harley-Davidson and their compelling story, to where they were assembled and how it all ends up at a major rally near you is fascinating. It was easy to get the potential buyer excited and sold on the dream. Whether the customer never went further than to a HOG meeting at their local dealership or decided to go coast to coast, the picture would get painted and all that was left to decide on was what accessories to add and get them to finance. The Customer Path was almost complete. Then came the casual clothing, leather riding gear, poker chips and all sorts of gifts and collectables. The Bar and Shield appeal is strong, and for many years this loyal customer was happy to be a part of a much larger association of riders.

I haven’t sold a brand new Harley since the fall of 2017 but I’m still in the powersports business. We do sell used Harley-Davidsons and have great success with it. In recent years, I’ve been somewhat surprised how values of used Harley’s have fallen. Just to be clear, the wholesale market on used inventory is fluid for all makes, but even I have been surprised with the low values and the plethora of used Harley’s for sale both in the market and at auction.

So I believe the answer to the question of why Harley-Davidson is struggling is in how you are answering this serious question: If you are in the market for a new motorcycle, are you considering a Harley? If not, then why? Are you aging out? Does Harley-Davidson not offer what you’re in the market for? Retail pricing of a new Harley? Dealer location? Politics? All of the above?

I’m a soon-to-be 63 year old average consumer/enthusiast and I can’t see myself not owning a motorcycle. I currently ride a 10 year old BMW F700GS and usually trade about every two years. The nearest BMW dealer to me is 145 miles away. The nearest H-D dealer is 65 miles. I also own a Harley-Davidson Low Rider but it’s not my daily. Retail pricing? I don’t see any reason to buy a new motorcycle of any brand as there are plenty of low-mileage used inventory available. Oh, and I’ve owned nine Harley-Davidsons (only one brand new), I work at a Kawasaki dealership, and have ridden to the largest motorcycle rally in South Dakota for 17 years. Hmm, maybe the problem isn’t Harley-Davidson.

I believe all brands have the same issues. The big difference is most other brands offer something for the whole family. Youth dirt bikes and ATV’s, personal watercraft, side x sides for work and play, dual sports and street bikes. Poker chips? Not so much. Perhaps, Harley-Davidson should open the door for dealers to have the opportunity to be multi-line. Let dealers run their business how they see fit. If you want to remain exclusive H-D, so be it. But if a dealer can offer up solutions to an active family, build potential customers from an early age, fill the service department with more work and give their customers a chance to grow into a Harley-Davidson motorcycle, it might make a difference.

The Harley-Davidson lifestyle is just their version of the powersports lifestyle. There isn’t anything in the rule book of riding that says you can only own one brand at a time, and you must only ride on the street and in groups of more than five. We ride, we race, we raise a family and make friends out of strangers because of these damn things. Again, I don’t claim to have the answers. But I’ve seen those great customers fade into the lifestyle of recreational SxS’s, toy-haulers and grandkids and then come in for another motorcycle.

I believe Harley-Davidson has it’s place in this world. Maybe their vision has been clouded by the smoky burnouts, but with the right person behind the handlebars maybe there is hope. I’ll ask once more; If you’re in the market for a new motorcycle are you considering a new Harley-Davidson? And if not, why? The Motor Company might want to know.

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The Winter Riding Blues: Or, Why Doesn’t the Weatherman Get Me

Sometimes, the answer to most questions in this simple mind of mine is to grab the handlebars of my motorcycle and go for a ride. In my last post Tomorrow We Drive, I talked about winter riding and how we need to find those brief opportunities to get the bike out and depending on your region, those brief moments maybe few and far between. But if you’re lucky, this may not be a concern. I’ve heard there are parts of the country where you can ride in relative nice weather all year long. Oh, the luck.

The Winter Blues

I work in the motorcycle/powersports industry and I stare at this stuff all day long. I talk to many folks that buy bikes and such in the winter as well, and I guess in some sort of twisted way this is me subconsciously grabbing my handlebars to get a fix. You don’t have to always ride a motorcycle, but it helps when it comes to the I can’t ride today blues. Paycheck? Oh, that too. When you think about, talk about, work around and ride bikes all year long, and still want to go for a ride? Hi, my name is Jeff and I might have a problem.

“When you think about, talk about, work around and ride bikes all year long, and still want to go for a ride? Hi, my name is Jeff and I might have a problem.”

I’m pretty fortunate to do something I love. I’ve been lucky as an adult to really not have a job that sucked, but this particular industry has allowed me to be who I am without everyone thinking I’m crazy. There are a lot of great people I’ve met and gotten to know that I wouldn’t have otherwise had the opportunity to. Hmm, I wonder if they say the same about me? Of course they do.

Now that we’re a couple of weeks away from a new year, I know it won’t be long before the daylight lasts a little longer and the temperature becomes more comfortable. It’ll be fine, right? I’m not the only one thinking about this I’m sure. Well, except those living in a place where it’s unimaginable to reside somewhere that has seasons.

And so I sit on this cold, windy day looking at the forecast. Sunday looks like a possibility and it might be nice to ride around this small town I live in. Even a short ride can go a long way with me this time of year. And if the ride doesn’t happen you’ll at the very least find me at work thinking and talking about it.

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Tomorrow We Drive – The Joys and Struggles of Cold Weather Motorcycle Riding

It’s different riding motorcycles in November. The weather can be all over the place, and the daylight doesn’t last as long. Tonight, riding home from work, I’m watching the sun set behind me and the shadow of myself beside me – both seem to be moving too fast. After another hot, dry summer the cooler temps are refreshing. The getting darker sooner part doesn’t help, but with my right eye looking out for deer crossing the road, my left eye is just plain being lazy.

I feel the cold in a different way now. As a young man, I would just push that uncomfortable feeling of wind-chill out of my head and ride along. Now, it creeps in a little deeper into the jacket letting me know that the heater in the truck still works just fine. Tomorrow, we drive.

Now, I’m not saying I’m getting soft. Smarter? Debatable. I do know this riding motorcycles outside of fair weather is not for everyone. I’ve done it and mostly enjoyed it. There are always moments during any ride, even the most beautiful day can be, dare I say, a chore. Add a dip in the temperature, rain, wind, untrained wildlife, darkness and cell phones behind the steering wheel, and we have the makings of drudgery.

“… push that uncomfortable feeling of wind-chill out of my head and ride along. Now, it creeps in a little deeper into the jacket letting me know that the heater in the truck still works just fine. Tomorrow, we drive.”

But boy, do I love riding motorcycles. It truly is worth it. Inside that helmet of mine you’ll find a smile and even on those rides where the heat is unbearable or the cold feels colder than normal, I love it. But… there is a point where before there was no point. On those colder mornings I’m easily convinced to drive, and of course the hour long commute one way can be a stretch. I’ve found that around 45 degrees for an hour is plenty for me now. When the commute was 20 miles, single digits were tolerable. I was also 15 years younger and rode like the wind.

I pretty sure winter roles around about the same time every year for all of us and as a motorcyclist, we just put a bookmark in it until we can catch a random day of warmer temps and sunshine. Oh, and to make sure it’s between the hours of 7:30 am and 4:40 pm. Looking at the weather forecast for the next seven days, one thing is for sure. Tomorrow we drive.

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Buffalo Jeff

So it’s been a while. Every year around July, I start thinking of the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally and my sub-conscious always starts packing my motorcycle for the trip. It’s a reflexive thing and whether the trip happens or not, doesn’t seem to matter. I used to be very consistent in going each year and the last few years just haven’t happened. What changed? Nothing, except I refused to make excuses to not go. And there you have it.

So this year I made the trek and I also hauled my bike up on a trailer. I’ve done this once before and quite frankly, it doesn’t matter to me at this point. I’ve ridden there so many times in the past and trailering takes a lot of stress and weather-worry out of the equation. Oh, and I took my BMW. My, how things have changed. If you’ve read any of my older posts, I also rode a BMW there in 2019 but went early before the rally officially started. We are seeing more and more adventure bikes everywhere we go and the Sturgis Rally is no exception. Let’s sum this up; I went, I trailered, and I took a BMW. Yep.

Leaving after work on a Saturday, the plan was to arrive at Ender’s Lake in Nebraska by dark, and spend the night in the back of the truck. I stopped in Colby Kansas for a bite to eat and when I climbed out of the cab of the Ranger, I was jumped in the parking lot of Arby’s by a guy named Heat Index. Wow, it was hot! OK, whether or not it’s cool to haul your bike to Sturgis, at that moment I was cool with it. Literally.

“when I climbed out of the cab of the Ranger, I was jumped in the parking lot of Arby’s by a guy named Heat Index. Wow, it was hot!”

I arrived at Lamphere Ranch Campground about noon on Sunday, and got the bike off the trailer to ride into town to get lunch. I know it’s been a couple of years but it seemed like I hadn’t seen this many people downtown in a long time. For the first weekend of the rally, I guess that’s to be expected. I’m hungry and well rested from the drive so let’s eat. The sights and sounds of Main Street is classic Sturgis and as I sit at the Loud American eating my lunch, I know it won’t take long to get back into the groove.

After lunch I walked the sidewalks to check things out. Lot’s of people, t-shirts and traffic of course, but also everyone with a bagger had their music turned up to the max which the old man in me found annoying. If you’re going to force me to listen to your music for the 20 seconds it takes for you to get down the street past me, let’s agree on what song is playing. Anything from Journey works for me. I suppose it’s just me and by time I finished lunch and set out on foot, I hardly noticed.

It always amazes me with the plethora of people, that you will even see someone you know but it never fails. Years ago we met a guy that goes by the name Buffalo Mike and he is what you might expect from a rally of this type. A helmet with horns and leather vest with no shirt on pretty much sums him up. Or so I thought. After seeing him at the rally several times over the years, Buffalo Mike is a great guy. I bumped into him again this year in front of the Full Throttle Saloon and we got caught up. He’s 74 years old if you’re wondering. Yes, it’s his thing to put his sweaty helmet on your head…

Buffalo Mike is a great guy. I bumped into him again this year in front of the Full Throttle Saloon and we got caught up. He’s 74 years old if you’re wondering. Yes, it’s his thing to put his sweaty helmet on your head…

These pictures were taken ten years apart and I’m guessing the old man next to Buffalo Mike is me, Buffalo Jeff. He rode his Heritage Softail Classic from Oregon and I trailered a BMW, but I didn’t bother to mention that part.

Monday was a good day to ride to Deadwood and through Spearfish Canyon, Nemo and a few roads in between. It’s nice to get out on the roads in the morning before the traffic picks up and then back into town for a bite to eat. Looking at the picture above, I could stand to skip a meal. But not today. Off to the Knuckle Saloon for something to eat and a $6 beer and it’s time to get a few steps in.

If you like to people-watch or have any interest in motorcycles, this is a great place to be. There’s plenty to see from a tourist standpoint and the sights and sounds surrounding the rally can wear you down after awhile. Lucky for me, I like all of the above. At the Full Throttle Saloon custom bike show, I ran into Kevin Bean’re and talked to him about his bike and travels. He has quite the life and always smiling.

For me, the 84th Sturgis Rally weather was perfect. I rode a little, walked a lot and saw a few friends and made a few new friends in the process. There is a lot that goes into putting this rally on, and if you have any inclination to go, I would say do it. Next year for the 85th the attendance numbers will be higher, but that’s just how it goes. Maybe next year I’ll leave the old man in me at home, ride up instead of trailering and find a helmet with horns. Either way, I hope to see you there!

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Bologna and Potato Chip Sandwiches

Often, when I’m driving around the skirts of White City I find plenty of quality memories in my rear view mirror. Just the other day as I headed East out of town, I turned south down a gravel back road kicking up a dust trail. I’ve been down this road plenty of times but this time was different. As I looked in my rearview mirror I imagined Russ Sams’ dad Sammy driving us down to the Council Grove Lake in his old Chevy truck on one of those endless summer days. As we rode in the back of the truck to the lake, the dust rolling behind us, the sound of gravel beneath the old bias ply tires, it gave the promise of fishing and a cool swim making any hot day better. Jean, Russ’s mom, would make us bologna sandwiches with potato chips on them and I usually won’t eat them any other way to this day. I’m not sure why the dust kicked up a memory like that, but I’m glad it did.

Another memory that I have recently recalled is hanging out in the White City pool hall playing snooker and watching Craig Christlieb and a few others play. Craig’s family lived south of White City out by the old bridge at the top of the hill where I usually take pictures of my motorcycles. Mel Bidwell and I, and a few others hung out there as growing up and I have to admit we all played a good game. Again, just some of those memories that bring people and places back like it was yesterday. Well, maybe the day before yesterday.

I used to know everyone in town, where they lived and such. But like the dust behind my old truck the other day, people and places head off in the direction their lives inevitably take them, but somehow those memories linger in the air. There’s a lot of those reminders stored away for days of driving down any old gravel road, and I appreciate those of you that had a hand in creating them, and leaving them with me.

I talk about my experiences and memories a lot, but I’m sure those who find themselves either in or somewhere other than White City also have their own unique recollections of these dust trails. My only hope is this dust doesn’t settle any time soon.

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Brick By Brick

“The Future Knows When The Past Is Tired”

When I look around this small town where I’ve lived for the last 55 years, it’s not hard to see it through the same eyes of when I was a kid. I couldn’t have had a better experience growing up here, and possibly so much so that it has kept me from taking the leap that so many have and moved on to bigger and maybe better places. Life is funny when we look back through those same eyes, full of nostalgia, all the while the future is happening every second around us. With each blink of the eye, the future creeps in, pushing those memories further behind us and dulling the edges ever so slightly.

We’ve seen these changes throughout the years here in town as every small town has. But when driving down the main drag each and every day, those changes seem to happen at a pace hardly recognizable. For someone who hasn’t been here for years, a drive down highway 4 through town may seem drastic. What used to be is included each time we hear I remember when.

There’s talk of pulling up the red bricks along the five blocks of Mackenzie street and replacing this stretch with a new surface. I understand both sides of the conversation of keeping the brick versus how much Mackenzie needs repaired. What’s not to love about the history, effort and appeal of a brick main. I’ve written plenty about growing up here and how this town influenced my upbringing. Even when describing to anyone who might ask where I live, I explain how we cruised main street and hung out at the pool hall. I brag about the freedom we had and the friends I grew up with and how some of my fondest memories happened on and around these same red bricks. I think you catch my drift, and maybe you’ve said the same.

Let’s not kid ourselves, Mackenzie street is tired and has been getting rougher in recent years. Obviously, if there were an easy and inexpensive way to repair the brick it would have been done. When the bricks were originally placed, traffic wasn’t anything like it is today. Trucks are bigger and heavier now and the traffic just isn’t the same as when we were cruising main back in the 70’s. You would have thought those bricks would have worn out then with all the back and forth we did on that street.

But, with everything I’ve written and remembered about this small town, it isn’t based on red bricks. Although Mackenzie street was built on a good foundation for the bricks to last this long, it isn’t about the bricks. We are the bricks. This community of those who live or once lived in and around White City is Mackenzie street. Each brick along those five blocks represents every one of us. I know not all have fond memories of living in White City, and for some it was just a step along their journey to where they are today, and that’s OK. For some it’s a multi-generational family of farming with their life’s work planted and ranched each year on the outskirts of town. You drove to work, brought your kids to school, and opened shop on this street, And for someone like me, who’s memories and appreciation for how I turned is priceless, thanks to so many of you who are still here with me. WE are the bricks that make up the five blocks of Mackenzie, and that won’t change.

I’m OK with leaving the bricks in place and I’m also OK with replacing them with a smoother surface. In a perfect world we could correct the issue and keep the brick. I also know that no matter the surface on Mackenzie, there isn’t any cruising down the main drag anymore, but I still have the memories. Keeping the brick won’t bring back all the businesses of a once flourishing small town but some of those old business owners still live here. That same road that took so many away to follow their dreams will also bring them back no matter the surface.

Looking around us, the change is inevitable. I love the bricks on main street because it’s a piece of this town that’s genuine. And the fact that this discussion is happening tells me there are plenty of folks that are passionate about this. I get it. Like I said, if the bricks stay I’m good with it. If the decision is to resurface it, I’m good with that as well. Maybe the bricks can be incorporated into a sidewalk around the park as a reminder of a community that appreciates it’s past – I don’t know.

When I drive through town and hear the familiar sound of my tires rolling over the brick, and my mind’s eye sees the store fronts and the familiar faces from 1975, it always takes me back to cruising on a Saturday night. I’m also dodging the ripples in the bricks as I’m trying to get down the street. For me the memories will always be here, and for everyone who built this community brick by brick, past and on into future, it’s a job well done.

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Come Again Soon

If only it could talk. If only their stories were written on the walls by those who told them in the present tense. If you look just beyond the tall grass and the trees, or the boarded up windows, you can still see the life of many. Hard work and maybe a not-so-easy life, but hopefully a happiness, the kind we wish for everyone, to be the storyline. Get up every day and make sure chores were done, kids to school, and off to your job all the while worrying about the bills and the news of the times and thinking – no wishing – for time to slow down. You know, just like we do now.

Somewhere in a box, pictures tell the real story. Brown and ivory now instead of black and white, history was made before it was history, with every flash of the bulb

For every abandoned house, business or town for that matter, there are many chapters between the hard broken backs of those who built them. So busy living every day, focusing on the small and meaningless, and wandering through their lives. Pictures and family-time were priceless. As front doors were closed for the very last time, with a final look over the shoulder, another chapter of their life was started. Somewhere in a box, pictures tell the real story. Brown and ivory now instead of black and white, history was made before it was history, with every flash of the bulb.

So here we stand on the edge of a gravel road, our high tech camera or phone in our hand, thinking of the light and angle to capture what is impossible to see. The laughter and tears, the birthday celebrations and the celebrations of life. The wins and losses and the hidden demons that some families hide that needed to be overcome. Let’s face it, life at any stage can have some dark places that the warm glow seen from the street won’t shine upon. But yet we make the best of what we have.

Even as the proprietor spun the Closed – come again soon sign around of his business in decline – or for other reasons known only to those at the coffee shop – he felt the weight of his family and a community upon his shoulders that seemed heavier than the day before. But we know this new chapter brings the high that always comes after a low. We’ll make it. Somehow we always do.

At no point have I stood at my front room window looking out at the road wondering if somewhere into the future there will be an interested photographer looking at the proper light and angle of the broken glass and naked wood of this house long left alone, and a roof, tired and weak from holding perfectly still waiting for the picture to be taken. But I have witnessed a few local businesses, once thriving, with a bell hanging above the door, close. A place where folks would catch up on the latest, spend a little money, and come back soon. Silent now, but the appreciation lives on for those who dedicated their time serving their neighbors. Maybe, we should let them know this before the bell over their shop door stops ringing.

But not all lost and abandoned stories ended in despair. Folks are usually looking for a better life and those hard decisions made at the dinner table resulted in a move, be it figuratively or literally, to do just that. Move up, move out, expand or take a chance can be scary, but we’re willing to do it because in the end we believe in us. The remnants of what is left behind can be seen from the gravel road or from the curb on Main.

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Looking Back

The old saying “the more things change, the more they stay the same” works most of the time but lets face it, change is change. This bridge is about two and a half miles from White City and I’ve taken my motorcycles here spanning the last 16 years or so because of the cool backdrop the bridge provided. But time marches on, infrastructure needs improving and old country bridges need some lovin’ too. To me this old bridge wasn’t bothering anyone but that’s just me being selfish.

Growing up in White City Kansas, there are many places where the past is still very present. Old buildings and houses, some abandoned, a brick street running through the heart of town, an old water tower most recently repainted and a whisper of the sound of a town once thriving. Don’t get me wrong, there is life in this town of mine but you have to know where to look. White City isn’t immune to progress, after all we have seen such progress in our city streets, Co-op, school and those entrepreneurs keeping their businesses going. It’s a great place to have grown up. But, back to this old bridge.

The first time I traveled out the bridge only to see trees had been removed and construction was under way, I was a little shocked. Word travels fast around these parts and I hadn’t heard anything about the bridge being replaced. I’m not sure the county owed me a phone call, but the surprise of what I saw left me a little sad. This was a great spot to ride out to and stop, kick rocks off the edge and listen to the water pass underneath. Once in awhile there would be fresh graffiti painted on the supports giving you, at minimum, the year of the graduating class, give or take a year or more, and maybe the status in relationships tagged with a heart. A place where feelings were expressed, good or bad, with a can of spray paint. As the construction progressed, the scene turned into an unstoppable step forward.

The small town guy in me will miss this bridge for many reasons. Just like the memories of growing up in a town at a time when every storefront had a business, the constant cruising down the street on Saturday night and being home at midnight was a thing. The motorcyclist in me will miss it for a peaceful destination and appreciation for it’s service to the county. Oh, and for a backdrop for pictures.

There are plenty of places like this – old and interesting – that would make a fine place to picture my motorcycles, but this place was special. I’ve grown up in this area and watched the landscape change around me, yet it basically stays the same. You only need to know where to look.

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We ride. We bench race. We opinionate

There seems to be a lot of conversation about the new Harley-Davidson Pan America within the BMW community. I follow both groups on social media and I’m amazed at some of the comments I’ve read coming from both crowds. Even Zach and Ari have a video out explaining how either brand shines outside of their respective genre. As a guy who likes all-things motorcycle, I find the Us versus Them to be the same argument as to the chicken and the egg. I like eggs and I like chicken. Why argue about it?

Clearly, Harley-Davidson has stepped beyond their comfort zone with the Pan America and BMW has done the very same with the BMW R 1800 Classic. Or are they still in their comfort zone? Both companies have been around a very long time, (and it shows) and both companies have produced motorcycles that have appealed to a wide range of interests. Just take a look at their powerplants and you’ll see how each have held on to the past and brought those designs into the future. Classic lines and designs can sell product, that’s for sure.

I’ve never been the guy that thinks mine is better than yours when it comes to brands. Every brand can have a bad day and even a model within ranks can have issues that it can’t outrun. Rose-colored face-shields can soften our opinions but time marches on. So back to these respective groups on social media – reading comment after comment of how owners of one brand talk and think of others amazes me. As riders, we ride and usually own several makes and models over the years. Heck, even in some sort of secret and successful marketing strategy by these makers of motorcycles, we may own several bikes at a time consisting of different brands! And then to splinter off even further, these bikes could even be for different types of riding based around touring, dirt or sport. Does that make any of the plethora of bikes I’ve owned any better than yours? Of course not. But social media has given most folks the power and authority to comment their negative opinions that add nothing to the discussion. We ride. We bench race. We opinionate.

I’ve owned a lot of motorcycles over the 45 + years of riding. Some were good, others were great and a few left no impression on me. But they all served a purpose in getting me where I am today. It took many miles and a lot of dust to figure out what kind of riding I like to do and of course, some motorcycles are more suited to me for that purpose. I’m not going to go out of my way to pull the conversation down to a lower level by beating up the so-called competition to the brand I’m currently riding. If it takes Harley-Davidson to up the game in the ADV category, then so be it. Honda, Moto Guzzi, Triumph and Yamaha will have to up their game along with the BMW line-up. Will Harley-Davidson bring out a smaller displacement ADV bike? The Saucepan America? My bet is not in the near future. But would it be so bad?

Will Harley-Davidson bring out a smaller displacement ADV bike? The Saucepan America? My bet is not in the near future.

There’s plenty of room around the world for any manufacturer to step out and create something new and exciting. As a consumer, I can appreciate the effort it takes to bring a new bike to the dealer’s floor and it’s interesting to see how opinions and brand loyalties then become the discussion. I get it, we take a certain pride in what we ride and bragging is what fills the comment section. I still wave at anyone on a motorcycle regardless of what they’re riding because you never know at what stage of the motorcycle experience they are in. At the end of the day, we ride, and what we ride is a matter of where we are in our participation in this sport.

I acknowledge all of my fellow riders and would stop to help or shoot the breeze with any of you wherever I may find myself on this road we ride. With a new year ahead of us and a new model year coming, we can only hope it brings with it a bunch of new stuff to discuss. Save travels!