The Sturgis Experience
Arriving home in Dutchtown, Louisiana late Friday evening, I had previously packed up my bike ready to go with a few exceptions such as toiletries and a camera. Gary had worked hard on Dot for the 
past few days hoping it would be in perfect running order. He too had packed up anticipating an early start Saturday morning. Here's pretty much how it went.
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Let me set this up. Gary is my brother-in-law (wife's brother) and rides a 1986 Harley-Davidson Sportser named Dot. She has over 43,000 miles on her. Me, I ride Boudreaux, a 2005 Harley-Davidson Softail. Trust me, it's not that soft and Boudreaux had 35,849 miles on the odometer when we left. Both bikes had fresh oil changes.
Day 1, Saturday, August 7: Gary chose to spend the night at my house but neither he nor I could sleep, so we made a pot of coffee, drank a few cups and woke Darlene to tell her we were gone.
We hit Baton Rouge in the dark and as we crossed over the I-10/12 split, I noticed gary was not behind me. Going down to the next exit, I called him on his cell phone. He explained he was on the overpass broken down. Circling back, I found Gary working on Dot's carburetor. A screw had backed off the swing pin that held the float in Dot's carburetor. I being a very good flashlight 
holder, held the light while Gary dismantled and made the repairs as trucks whizzed by. He got his bike started but would prove to die in traffic two more times (once on top of the Mississippi bridge) before we got it working right.
Taking I-10 to Lafayette, we turned north on I-49. About 10 miles out of Shreveport, he signaled that he was on his reserve port of his tank. Figuring he had another 20 miles, we figured it was a piece of cake because of the closeness to Shreveport. Wrong. Within 5 miles, Dot came to rest at the Southern Loop exit on I-49 so I rode down to the next exit where I bought a small gas container and a gallon of gas to get Gary off the highway.
By noon, we had gassed back up, eaten lunch and was on I-20 headed into Texas. When we turned north at Tyler on the way to Sherman, the temperature had gotten well into the triple digits and we both swore we had not been that miserable in recent history. That night, we stayed in a hotel in Ardmore where we fought cramps caused from minor dehydration. That was around 600 miles the first day.
Day 2, Sunday, August 8: On the road north toward Wichita, the float pin came lose out of Dot's carb again right in the middle of Oklahoma City. After a quick repair, we were back on the road to Salina, KS. Temperatures began to climb again and by the time we had turned west on I-70 
we were back into the triple digits again. As we gassed up in Hays, the hotel and bank signs all boasted of 109 to 110°F. Although we stopped often, it was even more miserable temperature wise than Texas and Oklahoma.
Headed west on I-80, Gary pulled over at a rest area from heat exhaustion. We were 5 miles out of Cozad, Nebraska but he didn't think he could ride on so I hid Dot in the bushes, called a cab and got him to a hotel room. Then I led the cabby to the hotel where I deposited Gary, got in the cab and went back to retrieve Gary's bike. Getting Gary and myself re-hydrated, we rested but during the night, the cramps were even worse for both of us and we were both up hurting and walking to keep our leg and stomach muscles from knotting up. We kept waking each other up with the moans as new cramps hit us. Today was another 600 mile day.
Day 3, Monday, August 9: With another 450 miles or so, we're supposed to arrive in Sturgis today. We caught a little rain just south of Rapid City. Where was that rain in Texas, Oklahoma, 
Kansas and Nebraska? Just as we arrived at the Katmandu Campground, Gary discovered a leak in his gas tank, caused from the tank touching part of the frame and rubbing a hole in it. After establishing our campsite, we removed the tank and located the leak. I rode back to Rapid City and bought some sandpaper and JB Weld for a repair in the morning. From the picture, you'll notice the railroad about 50 feet away. When the first train came through, it woke me and made me think there was something gosh awful happening around me. The second and third ones didn't produce that much fear and realized God's wrath on mankind and me in particular had not yet been poured out.
Day 5, Wednesday August 11: Gary discovered that several teeth were missing from his sprocket, so we rode into Sturgis and bought a new one.
From there, we rode through the scenic route down to Mt Rushmore. We both thought we had never seen so many motorcycles on the road at the same time. Often, 
we found ourselves in highway traffic creeping along at 5 to 10 mph.
Mt Rushmore was very interesting and enjoyable experience, When we left, we took the less than scenic route through Rapid City but within 5 miles of the campground found that the interstate traffic had completely stopped for an hour while the fire department got the fire on an 18 wheeler under control. 
That night, we rode the campground bus back into Sturgis for dinner. Like the night before, we were only there a couple of hours. Bringing it back, we decided to go back into town but this time, we chose to ride the bus from the campground to check out the nitwittery of Sturgis. We were not disappointed because it seemed that every outrageous personality in 50 states and several other countries had all converged in the Black Hills. There was even a wedding back at the campground.
Day 6, Thursday, August 12: We installed the new sprocket but failed to account that it was larger and required a longer chain, so I zipped back to J&P Cycles for a new one. Traffic was still outrageous. While we were at it, I bought brake fluid for Boudreaux since my brakes were feeling a little mushy. That afternoon, we completed the sprocket/chain installation and the brake bleeding and cleaned up for another bus ride into Sturgis for 
dinner. The bus goes into town every hour on the hour allowing for brief visits. We could have just as easily eaten at the campground but thought if we'd ridden over 1,600 miles for an event, we should at least go into town for it.
Day 7, Friday, August 13: Packing up to leave Sturgis, anticipating a 400 mile ride into Boseman, MT. Ran into a little rain and found a campground there. Since we were going to get an early start the next day, we pitched only one tent. By now, we had gotten rid of the sleeping pads, finding that they really didn't do much more for us if we chose a grassy spot to tent up.
Day 8, Saturday, August 14: A damp start but planned on 450 miles to Sandpoint, Idaho. We found ourselves in super fast traffic going down mountain slopes and sometimes pushing limits 
on speed that flatlanders usually don't experience. The interstate between Missoula and Coeur D'Alene was one of the most twisty 4 lanes I've seen in my life and certainly the wildest I've seen on two wheels. Traffic flowed at 65-70 mph but it felt like 120. We found a camp north of Coeur D'Alene and just south of Sandpoint.
Day 9, Sunday, August 15: We rode into town to reconnect with some of Gary's old relationships. 
After a few minutes, I dismissed myself and rode back into Coeur D'Alene for some motorcycle oil and took a brief ride over into Washington. After returning back to the campsite, we rested until late afternoon and changed oil in both bike so we'd be ready for our southern return Monday.
Day 10, Monday, August 16: Taking the very scenic route 200 from Sandpoint to Missoula, MT, we were amazed at the beauty along the rivers and lakes. After reaching I-90 in Missoula, we turned east. About 50 miles out, we stopped for gas at a little one horse town. As we were fueling 
up, I watched a very old lady trying to do something under her older van. I moved my bike away from the pumps and asked if I could help. Her tailpipe was completely gone and the muffler was dragging. I could not get up under the low van and didn't have the right tools to remove the muffler anyway. Begging a piece of baling wire from a rancher, I managed to haywire the muffler to the frame so she could travel. It should also be noted, we were a couple of doors down from the "outlaw" biker clubhouse of the Mongols but they didn't offer to invite us in for lemonade. Perhaps we looked way too clean cut. Just as well. Onward toward Bozeman.
Day 11, Tuesday, August 17: Leaving the KOA Kampground at Belgrade/Boseman, we headed south toward Yellowstone. Yellowstone was a delight, showing us waterfalls, steaming mud geysers, various wildlife and beauty beyond our belief. At one point, Gary was in the lead when we rounded a curve to find stopped cars. A bison was ambling down the middle of the road and had zero concern about getting out of the way. As cars would ease by, Gary was up next but thinking the buffalo might confuse him and his bike for another snorting beast, he did a U turn in the road and went back to a turn-out to wait out the animal. I was no dummy either.
As we climbed grades, Gary noticed that his clutch seemed to be slipping badly 
but it did OK if he was easy on it.
No available campgrounds in the park, we had to travel down int the Flagg Ranch in the Tetons National Park to find a tent site. Along the way, we saw even more buffalo, Canadian Geese and Wild American Tourists. I also saw a bull elk and small deer.
Day 12, Wednesday August 18: Brrrr...the 40°F limits on our sleeping bags were tested. Heading back up to Old Faithful and just inside Yellowstone again, Gary finds that the clutch simply will not take the high hills again. With no more adjustment available, we make 
the decision to try to get to a town. Jackson, WY is about 75 miles away, so we turn back south through the Tetons. Fortunately, there were not many hills to climb and would build up enough speed to make it over the few we did come to. Frankly, the scenery along that highway between Yellowstone and Jackson Hole was ever bit as pretty as Yellowstone.
Arriving at a fuel stop in Jackson Hole, he says he doesn't think it will go much further. Looking for solutions and motorcycle parts, we stopped at a Harley shop and finding it nothing but a T-shirt shop. They informed us there were no parts even close to there and even if we had to have something shipped in, there probably was no one there that had the equipment nor expertise to help us repair it. We made the sad decision at that time to abort the ride and to begin looking for a rental truck to get his bike home.
After wrangling with the U-Haul people in Jackson, we located a small truck 177 miles away in Diamondville, Wyoming so I made a quick ride though some mountains and some of the most desolate areas I've seen in my life. I went miles and miles without seeing so much as a single tree. Arriving at Diamondville, I rented the truck, loaded Boudreaux in the back and drove 2½ hours back to Jackson Hole where Gary had gotten us a motel room.
Day 13, Thursday August 19: We loaded Dot up with Boudreaux and began a marathon trip back to Louisiana. We stopped only for gas and a brief visit with my cousin Dan and his wife, Linda in Ft Collins. I wish we had more time because I had not seen them in 5 years but conversations resumed like it had been the day before. After a couple of hours, we headed back south through Denver, to the east to Limon and south into the panhandle of Oklahoma, switching between driving and resting.
Day 14, Friday, August 20: Traveling through the night, we saw daylight in Amarillo, Texas and eventually arrived at home in Louisiana at 10:30 pm.
Even though our adventure had not ended as we had planned, at least we didn't have to fight the heat through Oklahoma and Texas. My trip meter read 3,903 miles but Gary disputes that saying his is about 5 or 6 hundred less. However, I'm sticking to my electronic odometer reading and since I'm writing this, I claim the accuracy. Would I do it again? Yes, absolutely but not tomorrow.
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