Old & New Horizons

I've had the pleasure of being able to spread my horizons by starting to playing guitar not long ago. With my previous studio experience some help and support of using Custom Backing Tracs and my percussion skills I have been fortunate in being able to perform for a number of places in a relatively  short about of time.
I was relishing in this fact during some of the peak riding weather earlier this summer.  I had just   booked all of the Wednesdays of August with  the Action Riders doing their Meet n Greets at a place called the Dew Bolt In , sort of in my back yard so to speak.
When all of a sudden I was bombarded with the same question.
Aren't you going to Sturgis?

I had been so impressed with the fact that I was booked to play music  that I hadn't given Sturgis any  thought or consideration .

This would be my Twenty Third year if I were to go out of the past Twenty Five or since 1992.
My O1 Eagle (a.k.a. 2001 Electra-Glide Classic) was needing a few things done to it .  I started a check list of what it had to have done to it before I could go. Giving the fact that if it were too much to accomplish or if I couldn't finish the list then  I'd  have to skip going this year.

The Four Thief's 

As time went on I took care of the things my "O1 Eagle needed. Including replacing a front brake disk with a new chrome one and adding new front brake pads. Doing a complete servicing along with adding a new tire on the rear wheel. 

I had a rear brake light spoiler that had been on the tour pac several years ago.   I wanted to add it back on for safety sake if nothing else. Had to borrow my sons drill and made  several trips to get it but finally did manage to get the rear brake light spoiler on and got it working.

Next was the music. I had my hands full and wanted two separate nights worth of material set up and ready to go along with the song lyric sheets in the order and completed that task

Last but not least was to have the bike packed and road ready the night before the gig so I could virtually take off on it once I got home.

The original plan was to leave after the second Wednesday on the night of August 9th. I had even planned  to have laid down and tried to get some sleep in the early afternoon before the gig but failed at it miserably. I could not sleep a wink. Instead after playing that night and unloading the equipment I was exhausted. Falling to sleep without a second thought.

Waking up early I had my doubts and feared what might happen along the way if the bike broke down. Reluctant but I denied my fears.  It was 6:15am when the tires rolled onto the pavement, it was also a bit cooler than normal for a ride in early August.

There were only two things that I really wanted to do if I did decide to go to Sturgis. I would have to make up my mind. One was to ride the Harley Davidson Demo's and get a much better idea of what my next bike might be. I would be planning on asking a lot of questions.

The 2017 Road 'Glide "Special" with Stage 1 kit 

The other thing I had wanted to do was to return to the place formerly known as Harney Peak but
recently renamed  Black Elk Peak. It is the highest point in the Black Hills and a significant place where Crazy Horse had spent much of his time.  It had been more than 20 years since I had hiked it and felt the need to do it again especially because there had been a fire since my last time there.

Along the way of what ended up being a SEVEN MILE hike through a washout gulley of a trail.

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I had a lot of concerns about taking it to Sturgis this summer, especially during the triple digit days and when the temperatures were 95*f and above, It was then I would hear more upper end rattle. I even thought it might be internal piston slap especially while stopped at a light or stop sign.
Those concerns were wiped away when my mechanic buddy Butch had demonstrated to me with the engine running. By using a hammer pressed the handle against the exhaust pipe which revealed it was nothing more than a broken hose clamp tab.  A new hose clamp over the heat shield made for a easy fix.
  

 Once out on the Interstate the O1 Eagle seemed to want to speed up and take off on its own. It was running faster than I was comfortable with. It was my intention to be taking a slower and perhaps longer trip getting to Sturgis because of this but the bike and my schedule both had other plans.

Because of the unusually cooler temps the motor continued to run noticeably quieter and without the excessive rattles. It seemed to be unaffected by its own high mileage wear as well.

As I travelled I remembered and missed my brother in the wind Butch Clayton.  Besides being my mechanic he had also been a riding companion for many years on these trips. He hadn't made it to Sturgis with me for the past three years now. Riding alone you do make better time, however there is something to be said about having someone else with you and all its benefits.

Little by little the O1 kept creeping up its speed and as I listened to it in the cool morning the motor sounded as strong as ever, so I went ahead and let it run its own pace.   It was as if it wanted to go faster, as if it wanted to show me or to prove it to being just as strong as it ever had been. Thinking back it had never let me down. It was stronger and could keep going longer than I could.

There were moments along the way when semi-tractor trailer trucks would jump out to pass one another once they seen my headlights in their rear view mirrors. It was about the only thing that really slowed me down any at all but only for that moment. It were as if to let the Harley's motor catch its breath and then whoosh back to its increasing break neck pace. 

When I reached the state line of South Dakota it was then that I started noticing I wasn't passing quite as many vehicles as before . But then it accord to me once I seen the speed limit posted at  80mph .

Realizing it could be late before I would be rolling into Sturgis I decided to reach out to Larry the buddy who I would be staying while in Sturgis. Knowing he'd be working the Rally  I left him a text message thinking he would respond back before I would have to stop for fuel the next time.

It was a long time between piss breaks awaiting the next gas stop. I finally got a call back from Larry

while refueling in the town of Wasta, South Dakota about an hour from Sturgis.

There was still some daylight as I pulled into town  9:15 pm St. Louis time.

The next morning.

It hadn't dawned to me at the time but I had done 983 miles in 15 hours flat. It was the quickest I had ever ridden there before.

The next morning I headed for the Harley Davidson Demo rides and took out a 2017 Road Glide Ultra very similar to the one in the photo below  but in Blue.  I had gone through the required paper work on the computer and stayed the course on the Demo route but was very discouraged with the radio since it wouldn't lock in on any of the other stations that I wanted it to play.

Once back I called the techs over who still couldn't get it to play correctly.

In the mean time I had spoke with several of the workers there while waiting , telling them of the miles on my O1 and how I was determining what would be my next ride. When one of them said I would be a candidate for a  VIP Ride.

The 2017 Road Glide Ultra water & oil cooled

                                        

I was sent to speak with one of top Harley Davidson Techs and after a short discussion was told I could ride whatever bike I would desire. That they would take me out into the Black Hills and allow me to ride it the way I ride.

 The VIP Ride would be about a 100 miles and that they would pick up the tab for dinner, and answer any and all questions I might have. When they mentioned food I knew then I was in.

I hadn't ever ridden a Limited before and had questions about it also since I was keeping an open mind it was my choice for the VIP ride.

The 2017 Limited  while out on the VIP Ride.

The VIP Ride was to start about 11am with having to do some additional paper work over the computer. I really didn't have time to go back to Larry's for any additional riding gear other than what I was wearing at the time.

We went down into a section of the Black Hills I had NOT ever ridden and it was one of the very best rides I can ever remember. We had a few slower bikes and even a Trike that slowed our group for a few miles but when the roads cleared we opened them up and the ride was incredible.

We made a pit stop took a few photos and then went right back to riding.  It was just started to rain as we got behind a logging truck coming down into Deadwood. We parked the bikes and walked about a block to a casino that had a restaurant upstairs.

We had Steak Tips for an appetizer and each of us ordered the half a rack of BBQ Ribs that virtually fell off the bone. It was  very fine and I know it had to be a very expensive meal.
I knew the Limited wasn't for Me. Although similar to what I currently have, there was just not enough of the new  of what I wanted . I was more impressed with the Road Glide Special the Tech was riding and our discussion was more of the comparisons between it and the Road Glide Ultra.

We spent about an hour in the restaurant/casino and could see from the lights dimming that it stormed and rained hard for a good while there before the sky lightened up.  When we decided to head out  it was still raining as we walked back to the parking lot.
Everyone else started putting on their rain gear. Alligators over their shoes, Rain pants and rain suits. All I had was My vest my sleeveless gloves and my modular full face helmet.
What I thought was rather ironic was as soon as we got on the bikes and even before we had left that parking lot it didn't rain another drop from there at Deadwood all the way back to Sturgis.

Similar to my  Dream Machine minus the tour pac

Still not convinced I returned back to the Harley Davidson Demo rides the next morning. Taking out a Road Glide Special with a stage 1 kit. This time the radio worked just fine and I enjoyed the extra performance feature.
It was Sunday morning when I got up early and rode way deep into the Black Hills to and area called Black Elk Wilderness just inside Custer State Park/ There was a 10 dollar fee to be able enter where I then parked and hiked the trail to  Black Elk Peak.

Up top on the Fire tower look out platform at Black Elk Peak

I met up with a guy named Steve Cribbs who was an avid cyclist and hiker who helped me with keeping pace or I don't think I could of made it to the top and or back with him

I took a good fall roughly a mile away from the parking lot on the way back and done some damage to my right wrist left thumb and banged up my right knee.  All I know is, I don't think I will be doing this again.
According the GPS that Steve wore it was a total of 7 miles round trip. I have to say it was the worst washed out gulley of a trail I can ever remember being on.  Erosion from the fire might of contributed to it but I wouldn't wish this hike on anyone.

It was Monday morning when I started packing up and I said my goodbyes to Larry and left out about 10 am St Louis time. Stopping down town at the Harley Dealership to buy a Quart of Syn 3 and noticed I had snapped off the dip stick. I added about half the quart and started the trek homeward.

It wasn't too far outsided of Sturgis when I hit another milestone ...

I refuse to believe its over its always been cheaper to keep her

It didn't seem to register with me on the way back as I locked the throttle once more at 80mph. I was running it even harder than I had on the way up. Doing the same stops for fuel and being more time conscience.
I had made it into Missouri but was too tired to continue on through the darkness of the night and felt it best to sack out and finish the ride the next morning.

 When I awoke and got up starting home the bike acted up. It had a miss and wouldn't stay running when at an idle. The oil indicator light had stayed on and the oil pressure was down, so I added the last of the Quart I had bought for it and limped it in on home.

It was a few days later after  before I took the O1 Eagle over to my buddy Butch .  He  had gone to get the tools and had handed Me a cable tool to fish for the broken dipstick and I caught it after only a few try's .
We done a compression test on it.  But it only confirmed to us what we already knew. The motor was tired. It would need a major top end overhaul. Butch had several otther bikes to work on ahead of mine and I dreaded having to stop riding this early in the season even though I had another motorcycle a
O6 Night Rod .  It just wasn't the same.
There were too many miles and too many memories as well as too many spare parts to be letting the O1 go. But the diagnosis's was depressing to say the least.
I heard talk from others who said and I quote. "Cut your losses and get a new bike"
The more I thought about it the more it made sense to me. It was time and it just hadn't made itself apparent until now.
Having completed the Sturgis trip the O1 had completed its task and it done exceptional. I'm thankful to have made it back but feared this may be a premature  ending of an era.
Change is always hard, but easier to accept when you know its change for the better. the O1 let me know it was done, at least for now.

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We are all given choices in life, I truly have been blessed. May you all be at peace with your choices  and may the wind blow the cobwebs from any of  your troubled minds.
I don't believe this is the end for my O1 Eagle. But there is changes brewing.
Until the next time may the Great Spirit be with you...

The before picture of my DREAM MACHINE changes are still coming....

Charmed Life

There is nothing more humbling then knowing you have escaped all most certain death and or disaster and realize you missed an opportunity to meet your maker.  I know that I am not only blessed but I am, a charmed individual as well.

I have lived in a very rural wooded area nearly my entire life.  The paved roads, with gradual inclines, sloping hills filled with all kinds of twists and turns make for some great riding.  The road surfaces and conditions are excellent in this part of Jefferson County, compared to other parts of the country.  They are kept up and marked well here in Missouri.

 Its maybe another in a long list of reasons I am as fortunate as I am because to have ridden for as many miles on two wheels as I have, I couldn’t  have asked for better conditions

Unlike the majority of riders, I gave up drinking many years ago.  Simply put beer and bikes don’t mix. Because of my non-drinking I believe that also has contributed to why I have spent as much more of my time in the saddle riding.

Then  there are times when I suppose everyone gets a little restless.  Everyone has their reasons for riding, especially if it’s a warm summer night and with a particle moon shining bright in sky full of stars.

 That or maybe it was a wild hair that caused me to take a ride that night.

There are countless horror stories I have heard over the years of riders who have met their fate meeting a deer in their headlights.

Many more have suffered with server injury’s to themselves and there passengers, A few were not so lucky, tragedies making me that much more humbled by this event.

There is nothing like the wind in your face to help blow the cob webs from your mind and since I hadn’t been able to sleep, I knew a ride would do me a lot of good.

 I was just going to head down to the local service station and get something to drink. 

Throttling through the gears I brought up the speed on the straightaway, well over 70mph.

The thrill of that ride couldn’t have been more intense, other than maybe having a girlfriend topless smearing her breast up against me. That thought had crossed my mind,

I had backed off the throttle, rolling off it as I crossed the Dutch creek bridge, But then twisted it once  more and within a few seconds I was climbing up the next hill before seeing a flash of light, from an oncoming vehicle.  Suddenly in the corner of my eye a deer appeared..

It was all I could do to stiffen my arms and brace for what was to happen next. Everything went into a slow motion from there.

The deer had crossed the other lane and was virtually broadside directly in my path. There was no time to react.

A second later the lights of the oncoming vehicle blinded me.In that instant it was as if I were transported to what could have been.

 Had I gone down the bike would have leaned into the oncoming lane and not only would there have been scrapping me up off the highway, but they would have been picking parts of me up from under that oncoming vehicle.

 There is no doubt in my mind, that I have known for some length of time that I am a blessed individual, this just confirms it once again.

I am unsure of the statistics of how many riders actually survive and for that matter keep riding after an event like this. Much less managing to keep their 2 wheels up and have not gone down.

But it doesn’t take a brain surgeon to know that. Things like this don’t just happen everyday. A rider as well as passenger live, unscratched, to tell about it?  While it may be a wake up call for  someone else,  I ‘d like to believe things like this happen for a reason.

Perhaps it’s to tell you that if I can do it’s possible you can too, maybe its just ironic this happening again.  Yes I said again,  I hit a small deer nearly 10 years ago and kept it up then  also. But for whatever reason it’s another in a long list of my riding adventures. I am far from being done, and my life is far from over.

Live life to the fullest,  as if each day were your last, make a difference and ride free.

Rods n Ride / Bike Car & Truck Show

Anytime you are going to do a bike show you got to have some really good music. I just happened to be the one that performed it. 

This was the Sixth year that the Action Riders  had put on this Rods n Ride event at the Pacific EAGLES parking lot.

I was just fortunate to be the musical entertainment for it. Had a great time kicking out the tunes without being told to TURN DOWN...lol

Action Riders Meet n Greet with STIX Douglas

STIX Douglas provided the musicial entertainment for a rather unique Meet n Greet

The "Meet n Greet" is new and the perfect concept to listen and experience the unique sounds of JOYBONE's STIX Douglas.
Set in a rural area of Franklin County the Finish Line Diner provided an excellent opportunity to have such an event in a  relaxed atmosphere.

The "Action Riders", are  a Charitable Motorcycle Organization that meets on Wednesdays with each of their sponsors for a month long.
Motorcyclist of all ages took part in the festivities including a 50/50 drawing and announcement
which also included raffle tickets for a 80cc Mini bike and another for a 160 lbs. of smoked Hog,

The event was short and sweet kept to a two hour timespan from Six till Eight. The crew at Suzie's Finish Line done an outstanding job of keeping not only their regulars fed but also kept the additional Twenty Seven members served efficiently.

The weather was perfect and you couldn't have asked for a better day...

Deja' vue

 Shortly after I bought my first new Harley Davidson, I was out taking a ride on a sunny summer afternoon.  I was enjoying the day and the ride. As I got close to the county line, I noticed something move in the shade out of the corner of my eye . At first it resembled a dog coming up from out of the ravine. But then  it squatted down hiding itself in the tall weeds just off the shoulder of the highway.

It was just a blur,  when it suddenly  jumped up and out into the middle of the other lane. I could see  spots on it and knew it wasn't a dog at all but  rather a young deer.

The sound of my motorcycle may have startled it originally. There was absolutely no time to react, even to let off on the throttle.  A split second later it jumped again into the middle of my lane and directly into my path.  All I could do was brace for the collision.   I stiff-armed it just before the impact.

The bike jerked  hard and I could hear the cry of the deer as if it were a calf calling out for its mother. The blow suspended the motorcycles momentum nearly stopping the motorcycle in its tracks when the front wheel hit.

The rear wheel  raised completely off the ground, increasing its speed while it was suspended. It was no longer aligned with the front  when it finally hit the pavement. The results caused the motorcycle to bounce wildly. Its failure to follow the front wheels travel caused the motorcycle to wobble and jerk viciously and uncontrollably.

As I Squeezed the clutch and tried using both front and rear brakes, struggling with it before getting it under control.  Gradually the motorcycle slowed down before finally coming to a full stop.

It was all I could do to keep it in my lane and on the highway. I was lucky to be alive. Fortunate to have kept the Harley upright without laying it down.

Upon inspection I realized why it had taken  so long for it to slow down and to get it stopped.  The rear brake reservoir had been broken off completely. Rendering the rear brakes totally inoperable.

After I  stopped, I turned the Harley  around to look, but the deer was long gone. The motorcycle had some significant damage. Other than being shook up, I was all right.

Being out at the county line, there weren't any houses nearby to be able to use a phone to call for help.  There wasn't any reason to wait, so once I had calmed down, I decided I would continue on my ride and opted to ride the remaining eight miles home.

Once there,  I called my insurance company and was asked if there had been a police report. Later,  an officer came to my house to take the report and see the bike damage. It was fixed at the dealership shortly thereafter.

I added a new set of Deer Whistles and mounted one on each side of the Oil cooler cover. I have lived in a very rural wooded and hilly area nearly my entire life.

 The smoothly paved roads, with gradual inclines, sloping hills filled with all kinds of twists and turns make for some great riding. The road surfaces and paved two lanes are excellent in this part of Jefferson County, compared to other parts of the state and country. They are kept up and marked well here in Missouri. So it was easy to put on the miles since hitting that deer in more than a decade of riding since.

 It's maybe another in a long list of reasons I am as fortunate as I am because to have ridden for as many miles on two wheels as I have, I couldn't have asked for better conditions. 

 Unlike the majority of riders, I gave up drinking many years ago. Simply put, beer and bikes don’t mix. Because of my non-drinking, I believe that also has contributed to why I have spent as much time in the saddle riding as I have.

 Then there are times when I suppose everyone gets a little restless. Everyone has their reasons for riding, especially if it’s a warm summer night when the moon   and stars are shining brightly. That or maybe it was a wild hair that caused me to take a ride on another night. 

There are countless horror stories I have heard over the years of riders who have met their fate meeting up with a deer in their headlights. Many more have suffered with severe injurys to themselves and their passengers. A few were not so lucky. These tragedies make me that much more humbled by this event. There is nothing like the wind in your face to help blow the cobwebs from your mind and since I hadn't been able to sleep, I knew a ride would do me a lot of good.

On this particular night ride,  I was just going to head down to the local service station to get something to drink. I hadn't given any thought to the missing Deer whistles as I began throttling through the gears bringing up the speed  as I approached the straightaway, well over 70 mph. The thrill of that ride couldn't have been more intense. I had just backed off the throttle, rolling off it as I crossed the Dutch Creek bridge. Within a few seconds,  I was climbing up the next hill before seeing a flash of light, from an oncoming vehicle. Suddenly in the corner of my eye a deer appeared. It was all I could do to stiffen my arms and brace for what was to happen next.

Everything went into a slow motion from there.

 The deer had crossed the other lane and was virtually broadside directly in my path. There was no time to react. A second later the lights of the oncoming vehicle blinded me. In that instant it was as if I were transported to what could have been. Had I gone down, the bike would have leaned into the oncoming lane and not only would there have been scrapping me up off the highway, but they would have been picking parts of me up from under that oncoming vehicle.

 There is nothing more humbling than knowing you have escaped almost certain death and or a disaster and then realize you missed another opportunity to meet your maker. There is no doubt in my mind and I know that I am not only blessed but I live a charmed life as an individual as well.

In both instances, at the time, I did NOT have deer whistles on my Harley. And in between those times, I have put a couple hundred thousand miles on my 'O1  and saw with my own eyes what the hundreds of deer do when the DEER WHISTLES are on.

 Say what you want, but until you have ridden as many miles and experienced it first hand, you have no clue. Granted,  loud pipes can be heard,  but a startled deer is a bikers worst enemy.  If you believe Gremlin bells work, this is one thing, but I am telling you,  I KNOW deer whistles are worth the effect. Do what you want, but as for me, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what works and what doesn't.  Experience is one of the best lessons,  but why take a chance on your or someone else's life riding without taking this advice.

For those that are serious about riding, heed these words. For the rest of you,  good luck on your deer encounters.  I wish you all a safe and enjoyable ride. And while I am at it, let's leave deer hunting to those with Rifles instead of MOTORCYCLES,  shall we ?

The Legend of STURGIS BEER

By STIX DOUGLAS

Once Upon a Time…at a place not far from here, many, many years ago there was a lad who had dreams of going traveling to far away lands. Born and raised poor he believed that if there ever was a will, there is always a way.
To reach the goal of his dream he made a decision to give up the habit of smoking,saved up his money and eventually, bought himself an old broken down Iron Steed.


There would be many long days and many more nights while burning the midnight oil working to fixing it. His dreams were slowly becoming realized as he begin to take it for rides around his humble village.  Soon He became more confident and began to increased the distances.

One day while stopped out on one of these rides he overheard others talking of this place that they referred to as the Mecca of Motorcycling. In the other villages he heard more wild stories of things that had happened to those whom had gone there.
At first It seemed as if all knew of or claimed to have gone…..at least once to this mysterious place.

There were so many tales and myths that hardly any of it seemed believable. Each story was more exaggerated then the next. Each was filled with every type of challenge imaginable. Those that had gone unprepared often suffered great consequences. There were so many extremes that many hadn't been ready for.

There were tall tales of mind altering road mirages as well as some who had experienced organized confusion. There was ghastly and dreadful stories of terrible storms unlike any that he had seen or had heard of including the Winds of Change. Where once you had gone through you would never be the same again.

Others told of heat so unrelenting that it caused delusions. Some had barely survived while they were broke down on the plains. They had been trapped, stuck out in the sun in the heat for hours with no shade. They described it as merciless as if they were in the desert.
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Secretly he knew if he were to ever go to this place that he would have to plan and be prepared to take on this quest. Many that would go to the Mecca often would travel together in caravans. There is always safety in numbers.

To prepare himself he begun to ride the Iron Steed even greater distances. This would be an epic journey. He believed a true biker would have to have knowledge of his “Iron Steed”, his survival would depend on it
He heard of the dreaded Road Gremlins that could attach themselves for the ride to cause mischief and difficulties along the way. But one of the stories that he heard and believed was from the well seasoned travelers. Then he heard of the legend called “The Legend of the Sturgis Beer”

When the time came to leave everybody was gone. It was as if by magic that everyone who had
been there had disappeared or that they had gone on without him. If he was going he would have to go alone.
He mentally prepared himself the best way he knew how. Packed up all the things that he thought he might need for himself and his trusted steed for any of the unforeseen events that might happen along the way. Then set off on what became an adventure that would change his life forever.


There is always some truth to a legend; it’s what lends a little magic to it. The truth be told many years ago, because I was that "lad"

I quit smoking, saved my money and bought a wrecked Liberty edition Electra-glide AMF shovelhead. Within a year after repairing it I rode it alone on my first trip to Sturgis, South Dakota. Little did I know at that time what to expect or how much of an impact it would have on my life.

It wasn't just a simple vacation trip. It was so much more. I observed and participated in an experience that others could only dream of, and even though I cringe at the words ‘In the Old Days’ I am reminded of those earlier times even though I am much older and much wiser now because of it.

But even now I am compelled to tell you of this legend and what I learned from that first initial trip.

It was back then that I first heard of the legend of Sturgis beer. it’s been called many things but the Beer legend went something like this....

Traditionally, and in ‘Those Days’ when anyone and everyone rode his or her motorcycles to Sturgis. The legend was that IF you made it, you were to celebrate. (Remember there was a time when motorcycles weren't as reliable as they are now? Some of us may still remember the Dark Ages when a lot of bikes would be seen broke down along the sides of the highways.)

But if you managed to "get" to Sturgis, on your return trip back you were to load and pack your motorcycle down with all of the beer you could possibly carry.
The point being that if you broke down you won’t die of thirst while you waited for a rescue or repair. Besides it might help keep you from losing your cool. On the other hand if you didn't break down then you’d have a little bit of the Mecca to share, with those near and dear to you.  By passing on the experience of your trip with a coveted Sturgis beer you would give to your friends.

I have continued this tradition every year since, giving away those memento’s that have become collectors cans from each of my Sturgis trips, providing them to other motorcyclist as well as to close friends and family members. To those that ride I ask they continue the tradition. Since then I have seen the cans I have given out shown with pride as they sit on bookshelves, fireplace mantles, even trophy cases. They are lined up with each year’s memory.

To me it feels a little like Christmas passing out those beers, sharing the memories
of that years trip to Sturgis with those that wish to return one day or to those that have never been. It’s a comfort and a sign of appreciation for those that have already been there and perhaps dream of going back. It’s a tradition that is worthy to be kept, there are so few left to even be aware of now. Its a story with meaning which there seems to be less of and that becomes more faded in time. Like those that still ride their motorcycles there and back.
I maybe one of the last bikers who can recall the past a traditionalist that remembers what it was like when it was unheard of, even ridiculous, to trailer a working motorcycle.
Passing out each one of those cans allows others to share in the experience and in a small way, they are thought of, and are included in the quest to the Motorcycle Mecca and back. (Besides, it’s cheaper than T-shirts). The true value represented by one of these collectible beers from Sturgis, only grows more valued over time, just like friends.

Keep in mind how much better it is to share. When you can talk over a beer, or in this case (no pun intended) the talk and the story behind a can of Sturgis beer.


May you all live long enough to go to the Mecca of Motorcycling. But now that you have been entrusted with the LEGEND, I hope you will fulfill the meaning of this legend with others so they can (again no pun intended) be able to fulfill their dreams as well.

I wish you well, and that you enjoy many years of travels because legends aren't just born, they are made…

HELL NIGHT

By STIX DOUGLAS


When the weather turns cold and all the leaves have fallen from the trees, the best part of the riding season draws to a close in the Great State of Missouri. It is about that time I will often reminisce about some of my more recent traveling adventures.
But with having taken so many of these expeditions, my thoughts about them often becomes a pleasant stroll down memory lane that only improves, over time, while many get bitter sweet with age. But, there is always one that is and will remain being the exception. It was during a 24-hour period as I was returning from yet another of my many Sturgis excursions.

To fully grasp that day and get the full impact you would first have to understand and know what led up to it prior.

I had planned for this particular ride to be the ultimate. One in which to expand my comfort zone, stretch my horizons a bit further, and by pressing the envelope to make it not only the longest but I would also be riding through more states of any of my Touring endeavors to date.
Using two weeks of my vacation, instead of the usual one, I thought I would be making it easier on myself by traveling alone. My reasoning in theory were I could travel at my own pace and do more miles without anyone slowing me down. There was a certain optomism that I had thinking this journey would also be one of my most memorable. In a lot of ways, it became that way, but for the wrong reasons.

When I first left out on this particular tour I had first headed to Ontario, Canada for a Provincial HOG Rally, and had enjoyed visiting and riding with Suzie Sydney while we collected points for the ABC's of Touring.

It was two days after leaving from there, that I had ridden over 1,000 miles in a single day and then had the misfortune of laying my Harley down as I arrived into Sturgis.
I managed to repair the bike myself, but was in alot of pain, from an ankle injury caused during the accident.

Against my better judgment, and even after the accident I had refused to vary from my original plan and was even more determined to go through with completing the entire route as scheduled.

It was now, well into the second week of this journey, and I had only slept two nights on a mattress since my departure. My body was well tenderized from the combination of the pains and sleep depravation. I was unaware I was making the perfect formula for a disaster.

I was neither well rested nor was I feeling my best on that particular day, as I left Nevada. I had gotten up to get an early start expecting to beat the heat. But it was of no use. The un-relenting dry desert heat was persistent. The overnight low temperature had only gone down to 90*F. I was totally unaware of the impact the heat was having upon me.








As I pulled into Kingston AZ I seen a rather enormous Cactus near the towns Informational Center. It reminded me that I wanted some digital photos of these magnificent Sawarro cactus. I walked inside and was given directions on where to be able to find them in their nature habitat. I figured it would be well worth the effort. But the detoured route took me several hours and a couple extra hundred miles off course far deeper into the state and on some of the worst single lane, semi paved, and twisted back roads that could NOT have been imagined. It was far worse and more than aggravating to be able to get back onto my homeward heading.

It was late in the afternoon by the time I reached Prescott. Unknowingly I had been traveling a little faster than the required speed limit as I hustled through town. My hands were shaking and I wasn’t sure if it was because of my nerves caused by the uncertainty of the roads getting to there, or if it was just because I had not eaten yet all day, which would make things even more dangerous. I just should have slowed down then.

Unable to find a suitable place to eat I kept going and had turned my attention to the freshly paved black asphalt that had also been freshly painted. I failed to notice a signal light up ahead that had just changed, and unaware of the Traffic already moving into the intersection, when I did, it was nearly too late.
I applied both brakes hard enough to cause the bike to go into a skid, turning it to slide sideways. The bike came to a paused stop as the momentum slowly lifted itself back up into its upright position right along side the car driven by an startled elderly woman, whom had also just come to an abrupt stop. It was a very close call and a collision could have easily have taken place, that would have been my fault.

My nerves were completely shot. All I could do was apologize, as I pushed the bike out of the intersection, and onto the shoulder as I tried to calm down. It was at that point that I realized I had been making way too many mistakes and things had just gotten out of hand. The domino theory of the events of this day were becoming obvious and were clicking in succession.
It was then that I realized I was starving, and pulled into a Blimpies Sandwich Shop in Cottonwood, AZ. While I ate inside I took another look over the maps once again and tried to re-evaluate my situation. Having taken the detoured route for the Cactus photos I was now much further south. Having planned on spending the night at the rest stop near Winslow, AZ. I was still several hours and nearly 200 miles away. But then if I made it to there I knew I would be back on schedule.

I was hoping that the next day I could be “standin’ on a corner in Winslow, Arizona” But as I arrived in Winslow late that evening, there where massive amounts of surface and major road re-construction taking place.

Even the interstate highway overpasses were shut down. Which meant that the rest stop I had expected to spend the night at was unfortunately closed as well. It was being used as the storage depot area.

I felt stunned and shocked being totally unprepared and unsure of what to do next. I immediately pulled into a restaurant at one of the Winslow exits. I sipped a few cups of coffee while I briefly looked over the Road Atlas and studied over the state map once again. Realizing there wouldn’t be another rest stop until the state line.

I was dumfounded when I got back out on the Highway and the first sign I happen to see was for the Petrified Forest National Park. That's when I remembered on an earlier trip, that there was a roadside park on the eastern side of that exit.

I suddenly got this Euphoria that everything was going to be “okay” the closer I got. Maybe I was already delusional. Or that it was just wishful thinking. The marathon of riding hundreds of miles that day coupled with the intensity of the heat had diffenantly taken its toll.

I was more than a little tired and it was well after midnight by the time I pulled into that roadside park. Having already been in the saddle of that motorcycle for more than seventeen hours that day. I rolled the bike in quietly trying not to disturb others and parked close to what looked like a pavilion that had a picnic table under it that was the furthest away from everything else.

I noticed water standing in places as the ground was completely saturated. Which caused me to be even more careful as I carried my gear to the picnic table nearby.
Once the bike was unloaded I treated myself to a late night snack, finishing off the rest of the sandwich I had saved from earlier. Then I got situated to laid down for what I thought would have been some much needed and well-deserved rest.

As I stretched out on the top of that picnic table I was physically and mentally exhausted from the entire days ride. Tossing the blanket over me as I covered myself up and had just closed my eyes. I was moments away from dozing off into a restful bliss. When all of a sudden I felt something touch my nose.
At first I thought to myself “That’s strange, must be my imagination.” Then it happened again, only this time it felt wet. Immediately I thought “Could this be a leak? “

My eyes opened and I blinked as I looked up taking a moment for them to focus as I felt several more drops. “How can this be?” I thought as I realized that I was now looking at the sky through where a roof should have been. “Did someone steal the roof? Or was it under construction too?” Then it dawned on me as I realize this wasn’t a pavilion at all but rather what is called a Pergola that was only designed to shade the picnic table area from the sun.

Just then the skies opened up, and suddenly there was a loud crack of Thunder and within seconds rain was pouring down in buckets. I grabbed all that I could carry and in two trips quickly moved everything across the parking lot to a pavilion that “DID” have a ”shingled roof”

Once I finally got situated I then climbed onto that picnic table and begun stretching out once more as I tossed my fleece blanket over me. Considering the fact that I had now solved the crisis and that I could finally get that much needed and uninterrupted sleep.

Laying back down I closed my eyes and was just getting relaxed when I heard the loudest most awful screech followed by with what sounded like a collision of two cars colliding at a high-speed impact. The sound was so loud and so close that it scared and startled me. I literally jumped up thinking it was right there on top of me.

Before I could turn around I heard an ear splitting sound of a train whistle blowing at full volume from less than 100 feet away. How does it get any better than this? I thought to myself.

For the remainder of the night I was gnashing my teeth with each sound. Nearly every 15 minutes after that was constantly being interrupted with trains, train whistles, Trains passing by or latching on and or shunting one another. When it wasn’t the trains it was the roaring sounds or the cracking of Thunder. I was feeling each fiber of my hair standing up on the back of my neck as the breeze from the storm ripped though. There was nothing I could do. The harder that I tried to shut everything out the more noise there seemed to be. It was “hellish” to say the least.

For hours on end throughout the night the sounds continued to haunt me. Then early in the morning during what is referred to as the predawn the Thunder finally had quit rumbling. The rain had stopped, as the worse of the storm had finally passed. The train’s noises quit and the quiet and solitude of another day were at hand. My bloodshot eyes hurt as I tried in vain to fall asleep. But there would be neither peace nor any rest for me there.

The busy hustle and bustle of the early morning commuters had filled the streets and with them came the splashing sounds made from the puddles of the standing water that now seemed to become amplified. That was it; I couldn’t take it any longer. Miserable would vaguely relate to the intensity of how I felt when I got up.

Reluctantly I loaded everything back up on the bike and then headed back to the Petrified Forest National Park thinking I could at least get my first morning cup of coffee there.

At the entrance of the park I stopped to take a picture and then realized after reading another sign nearby that the parks facilities wouldn’t officially be open for at least another half hour. So rather than wait I got back on the bike figuring my time would be best served on the road heading on my way back home.

Gloomy looking patches of low ceiling clouds gave the morning a rather futuristic and supernatural appearance that was still evident as I exited Arizona.
Raindrops began to fall once again just as I turned off the exit headed into the state Information/Rest stop inside New Mexico. Parking the bike under one of the roofed picnic table areas as I stretched out.

When I finally awoke later, I felt I had fully recovered, the “power nap” had served its purpose and that rest two hours had done me a world of good. I felt much more relaxed and totally refreshed.

But it wasn’t until that moment that all of the things that had led up to this really hit me. I realized that I had just experenced the worst night of my life while on the road touring.

I got to thinking, "Who in their right mind would ever attempt to travel 7,000 miles in two weeks, or to have done it alone or the way I done it?

It was then that part of the puzzle sort of fell into place and I had come to my own life's terms and it became crystal clear to me that I had already spent a lifetime doing things the hard way. It is just something within my own nature that I have not been able to choose to have the control over. For instance when you ride alone you are not as aware of your own mistakes. (There is no one to correct or to argue with you.) I had learned a valueable lessons. But I have already learned plenty.

I am very thankful to have had this exerperence and for it to be behind me. THere are always those things that have a way of happening that are unplanned and out of our control, but the way I see it I am convinced that it could have been a lot worse.

The benifit is knowing and passing that information on. Be careful what you wish for or be willing to suffer the consequences…..

The other thing that stuck out about this tour that I would like to say is..."You just can’t force yourself to have the worst night of your life while Motorcycle Touring; it is as if, when or if the time ever comes ... it find's you. "

Another lesson learnt the hard way. Fatigue is no reason to keep going on. Being in a hurry will only get you killed or injured. And it is better to be late when arriving, then to not make it at all.

I guess if the truth were to be told then the secret to all of this would be to not let any of this bother us, but to accept it, and learn from it before moving on.
I can’t believe the amount of mistakes I had made and yet am still alive to be able to tell about it.

Thus that maybe my reason and or another purpose for my life. That’s why I am STIX DOUGLAS…. and I ride!

Thinking back I believe this was not for my own benefit but rather it was for the benefit of others, that bringing this to you, for you to heed my advice.

Be Safe, or you’ll be sorry….