24 September 2004

Sturgis 04

They keep asking me in the bars I frequent, "How was Sturgis?"

Now how do you sum up ten or more days of beer soaked motorsickle debauchery and fun in a short conversation with some beatoff you likely don't want to talk to anyway?

"It was cold this year."

It's a much more appeasing line than the ones I want to use:

"It kicked ass and you'll never see it because you're scared of the city limits sign."
"I don't know, I was too fucked up to notice."
"Just like last year, only different."
"Would have been great if the trailers would stay in the right hand lane and off the 2-lanes."
"Full of assbags like you."
"Packed with posers and yuppies sans sunburn or character hauling chrome phallic symbols."
"Sorta like here, except crowded enough to avoid stupid questions."
"It was like heaven, if God were me."
"Well, I never answered my phone or got an email - so it rocked!"
"A week of beer and motorsickles with my hoodlum friends? Oh, it was just awful ..."

Like everybody else I make nice and tell them how cool it was. Yes, it was crowded. Yes, we sleep on the ground. Yes, beer is expensive. Yes, there are badass motorcycle gangs there.

No, I didn't see any celebrities (Except Larry and Billy). No, our favorite Texans didn't make it - damnit. No, I didn't get a lot of tit pictures. And No, I did not seek out the Tuteuls for an autograph. In fact I was glad they closed Southside campground, as the occ jackasses had that road all plugged full of sheep seeking the same overpriced t-shirts their no-riding friends wear.

Which reminds me, why do people ask if we'll bring them a shirt. If you have a motorsickle, and want me to bring you a shirt, you are shit out of luck. Get your ass on your bike and get your own damned shirt. Why the hell should I ride there, earn the shirt, and bring a few home for the no-riding trophy geeks who won't hit the next town for a beer - much less traverse four measly states for the mother of all runs. Bringing shirts home to the cats who do not ride does a disservice to the Iron Butt minions pounding out the miles. What good is a Sturgis shirt if you can get one at the swap meet in OKC?

Which is why I haven't bought a shirt since '98. Not an official "Licensed Rally" shirt anyway.

Although, I think I could make some money setting up a table to sell shirts that read,
My Friends Went To Sturgis
I Was Too Much Of A Pussy
So All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt
Sturgis 2005
They wouldn't even have to be good shirts, because what masochistic bitch would wear them? Cheap 50/50 shirts at $7.50 each. The change from the 20's their friends gave them can be spent on beer. Or lap dances at Shotgun Willie's.
Furthermore; trailers.
Here's a good list of excuses to trailer your bike:
-"I'm a pussy"
-Back injury
-Combat Wounds
-Wife refuses to relinquish control of balls
-Medical incapacitation
-Too stupid to know better
That's it. Those are the only legitimate excuses. A few illegitimate excuses include:
"I want to make better time."
Bullshit. I ride, and the only thing holding me up between home and Sturgis are the trailers clogging up the two-lanes. If you're gonna puss out and haul that piece of shit get a fucking truck that will tow it up a hill. Better time my ass. Get the hell out of my way, you're screwing up my ETA.
"What about the weather?"
What about it? It's gonna rain on you while you're in Sturgis. Why not get accustomed to it? Are you made of sugar? Shit. When it rains, stop and have a beer with your friends. You have friends, don't you? No? Oh, well just trailer then ...
"I have too much stuff to carry."
Then you're carrying too much stuff. Ship some of it. Or quit carrying that much shit. Motorsickles are supposed to be an exercise in minimalism. Get a motorsickle trailer. Some of them fold out into kick-ass tents. Or tell your ol' lady to leave the fucking hair dryer at home.
"It's more comfortable ..."
Pussy. Sell that bike. Or stay home. You make me fucking sick.
"It's a custom bike, not meant for the road."
Here, hold this large piece of paper. Try to center the concentric circles on a vital organ. Now hold still for the impact.
"We have too far to ride and I want to be refreshed when I get there."
Unless you have a legitimate medical reason you're not "refreshed" this falls under the 'Pussy' clause above. Or, you're being completely irrational on the number of miles you want to cover in a day. Slow the fuck down. Enjoy being away from work. Enjoy your RIDING compadres. Enjoy the ride. No one sells shirts reading "Live to Haul, Haul to Live." They should ...
"I don't have enough vacation time."
Bullshit. See above first illegitimate excuse re: time and traveling.
Enough bitching for one day. I'm going for a ride.
Notice no one ever says, "I'm going for a haul."
"Wanna trailer somewhere and have a beer Saturday?"
how about,
"Hey, we could load up the Wells Cargo and go get a burger tomorrow night ..."
Trailers are for boats, and it's not just my opinion. Got a different one? Get your own damned blog.
Vaya con Dos Equis


Post a Comment

<< Home