Sierra Blanca Checkpoint

East of El Paso on Interstate 10, the daytime legal speed limit is 80 mph. There's not a whole lot of traffic, it's flat, desert, no one seemed to go over 85 mph. I watch what other drivers are doing; I try not to stand out. So I went with traffic, kept my sped down to around 83, and cruised past few sneaky patrol cars, speed traps, just waiting to accelerate out onto the super-slab, and nab some law breaking speeder. Forty miles west of Van Horn, all traffic was funneled into a Border Patrol checkpoint. The officers looked very serious, and had serious looking military style equipment. There was one man in the booth, one man standing near the side of the lane with a short barreled assault rifle, and one man holding a vicious looking dog on a short lead, all at the ready, and very serious. No smiles, here. The dude in the booth, he asked me a question, but my hearing was all shot to hell from all the wind noise of high speed riding, and the roar of the engine. On a good day, my ears still ring from Vietnam. But I could see his lips moving, but I just couldn't hear a fucken thing he was saying. His lips moved again. "WHAT", I yelled. Rose leaned forward, cupped her hand, and yelled in my ear, "... they want to know if we are citizens." The soldiers were waiting for my answer. Very serious. Yeah…I nodded affirmatively. The lips moved, and I accelerated hard, brought that bike fast up to 90, made some thunder blasting back out onto the highway, then dropped her back down to 83 mph, and cruised. Willie Nelson got busted there, when they found something illegal in his tour bus. So did Snoop Dogg. A few more miles down the road we would turn the clocks ahead…Central Time.

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First Ride To Sturgis

It was our first ride to Sturgis on the new Superglide and we rode through torrential down pours, truck gauntlets, Chicago traffic jams, unrelenting midwest sunglare and crossed the mighty Mississippi. We’d set our daily limit at 500 miles per day, an easy goal west of the Mississippi; we spent our first Sturgis night in Wall. Badlands was spectacular, but hot and dry, so we headed west looking for a bar. In New Underwood, we found “The Worlds Smallest Biker Bar,” a friendly place where the bartender held coins between her cheeks and dropped them into a cup.

Sturgis to Hallelujah Junction

I'm glad the tequila is gone. Said goodbye to Mike and LuAnn and headed south into the Black Hills: Custer State Park. Rode the "Wildlife Loop" and saw a couple of antelope and buffalo. Rode through the town of Custer: a clusterfuck of tourists, traffic, bikers, and folks dressed up as pioneers. Hah…folks dressed up as bikers. I waited for the same traffic light four times! Glad to get out of there. Gassed up in Newcastle, Wyoming, and took route 450 to Wright, desolate, nothing but antelope for 70 miles, and hot ninety five degrees. Made it to Casper just before the rain. Had a dream my tooth fell out. Woke up and it was still there. Route 220 out of Casper, lots of antelope, and 287 to Rawlins, where we found I 80 west. Crossed the Continental Divide three times: once on 220, once on 287, and once on I 80. Temps. on the high prairie ranged in the high 80's, but once we descended into Salt Lake City,...

Albany Helmet Protests in the 1980s

Some of the best rides in New York State, in the 1980’s were the ABATE sponsored helmet protests. There was usually a designated camping area and riders made it a weekend event. The pack, consisting of several hundred bikes would meet on Monday in the huge parking lot near Taft Furniture, and the helmetless parade would ride Central Avenue into Albany, the capitol, where speeches and meetings with politicians took place. The whole event had a festive mood; I never saw animosity. After the event, folks put their helmets back on and rode home with a feeling of accomplishment and camaraderie.

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