Road Trip Day 2: Biker Gangs

We just happened to be driving through South Dakota near the beginning of the 69th annual Sturgis Motorcyle Rally, an event that draws more than half a million Harley Davidson owners to a little town in western South Dakota. Harleys blew past us in the fast lane all day, riding in groups or by themselves, towing motorcycle trailers or flashing American flags.

As we approached Spearfish, where we planned to stop for the night, Harleys passed us in droves. They swarmed off I-90 to the fast food restaurants and bars. We ate dinner at Arby's and looked for a motel with vacancies, but no luck. It was almost dark, and I didn't want to drive the trailer at night, but we had no choice. We continued on past Sturgis to Rapid City, where the hotels were also full of Harley riders. Eventually we found a room (smoking, ugh) in a Days Inn I'm pretty sure was occupied exclusively by bikers. When I went out to get my clothes from the car, a big drunken group of them stumbled down the stairs from the second floor.

So Sturgis made our evening a pain, and we were both sick to death of seeing bikers and their bikes—especially when two of them set up camp directly outside our window in starred-and-striped folding chairs to chain smoke and talk bikes—but I liked the idea of it. I liked that without corporate sponsorship, an event can unify a culture like that. In the last few years, Sturgis's rally has drawn between 500,000 and 750,000 bikers. They catch up, carouse, compete in races and events, and generally have a great time. It's kind of a grass-roots American culture thing that doesn't happen that often anymore, and I'm glad I got to see a little bit of it.