My cousin is in college and living away from home for the first time. She’s in an apartment on campus but I guess it’s across the street from a bar. In hearing this it reminded me of my very first solo vacation. Oh, I’d travelled alone before but there was usually someone at the other end to meet me. This time I was totally on my own for an entire week. I had a wedding to go to in George, Iowa. That’s a little town at the intersection of Iowa, Minnesota and South Dakota. I took a nice week to drive from Chicago to George stopping along the way to visit friends in Des Moines then to the wedding. That wasn’t too bad but it’s the second week when the real fun began.
I had two weeks off work and wasn’t going to go home and do nothing so I decided I wanted to see Mt. Rushmore and Crazy Horse. This was in June and I had a hard time finding a hotel or motel with any openings. Seems there’s this thing called the Sturgis Rally that happens at that time every year in Sturgis, South Dakota. If you’ve led a sheltered life like I did you have no idea what the Sturgis Rally is but I soon found out. It’s for bikers. Not the bikers that ride Schwinns, the bikers that ride Hogs. You know, the big, burly, rough looking; I’ll kill you with my bare hands type of bikers.
Driving from George, Iowa into South Dakota was non eventful but as soon as I started driving in South Dakota the bikers came out in force. Big bikes, little bikes and bikes with sidecars. A lot of them were on trailers being pulled by cars and trucks. Some were grandparents taking the grandkids to show them what they use to do.
I said I wanted to see Mt. Rushmore which is in Rapid City but the closest I could get hotel reservations was in Wall, South Dakota. Home of the world famous (OK, it’s not known the world over but it is known in the U.S.) Wall Drugs. Best donuts and a well out back with the best water around and they advertise that the water is free. Wall is about 55 miles east of Rapid City at the entrance to the Badlands. When I got to my hotel I was starving. Now I should mention I’d never eaten in a restaurant alone before and I’m not sure of fast food so I figured I’d probably starve on this trip but once the hunger set in there was no way I was going to let that happen. I looked in the phone book and found there was a deli across the street from my hotel so I’d just hop over there and bring something back to my room. WRONG. When I walked out of the hotel I discovered the deli was also a bar and during the Sturgis Rally it becomes a biker bar. There was no way I was going into a biker bar alone. I walked down to Wall Drugs and picked up something for dinner; Slim Jims, chips and Pepsi. While I was at it I picked up enough for breakfast the next morning.
While I was eating my dinner I got out the brochures I’d picked up in the lobby and made my plans for the following day. I was going to Mt. Rushmore AND Crazy Horse. Both were spectacular but I must say Mt. Rushmore was my favorite. Driving through the hills surrounded by trees and suddenly there’s an opening and you see the faces. Huge, gigantic faces. They were awesome. I saw more than the presidents while I was there. I saw these big burly bikers with their little bitty instamatic cameras posing for pictures. Then I faced my worst fear and went into the cafeteria to get something to eat. I was going to sit at a table, alone and eat my lunch, alone. I had a book in my bag and sat by the window so I wouldn’t look so pathetic by myself. I opened my book out but found it much more fascinating to people watch. Then I saw it, a sight that scarred me for life, a set of grandma and grandpa bikers. They were both wearing leather. He was balding with bifocals and was wearing jeans and a black leather jacket. She had black hair that was set and styled very nicely. Make-up complete with eye liner and red lipstick and skin tight black leather pants with a black leather halter top that stopped about five inches above the waste of her pants and let me tell you she didn’t have the body for it.
After that trip I’ll never be able to look at a biker without laughing thinking of what he or she will look like wearing the same clothes and riding the same bikes in 20 or 30 years.
During that trip I discovered something about myself. I’m pretty good company.
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