Valet Parking At The Rumble

As a wee boy in the mid 1960s, I remember wheeling down Interstate 90 in the family cruiser, on a three week camping tour of the American West, when I was struck with an image I have not since forgotten. A craggy-looking character on a Panhead Harley blew by us, bedroll strapped to the back fender and face distorted by the 80 mile per hour wind blast. I thought it was the coolest symbol of freedom, adventure and who-gives-a-shit-about-tomorrow that I had ever seen. I was gonna do that.

Flash forward through 35 years of college, mortgages and the cubicle jungle, and there I was: flying down I-90, bedroll, face contorted by wind. Headed for Mecca. The Sturgis Rally and Races. As far as I was concerned, it was 1965 and I hadn’t wasted 35 years running in place. At least not until I neared my destination and was rudely awakened from my time travel and deposited squarely into the Comfortable Adventure Time Zone.

When did Harley-Davidson dealers start selling trailers accessorized with motorcycles? I bought my Harley Sportster five years ago, and have since covered 30,000 miles and forty states. The Sporty is hardly considered a touring motorcycle, as it will vibrate the teeth right out of your head, but it stokes the purist in me. No windshield, no CD player, no cruise control – just hang on and eat bugs. If I want to be comfortable, I stay home. But when the new, improved Harley guy takes his bike for a ride, he really takes it for a ride…on a trailer!

I first knew something was awry when I stopped for gas in Wall, South Dakota and pulled in behind a Lincoln Navigator towing a trailer carrying two shiny Harley Road Kings. I watched as Lance LowRider jumped out of the Lincoln in his polo shirt and khakis and pranced around the trailer checking his tiedowns, fully expecting him to be alarmed that someone had stolen his boat and left him a couple of motorcycles. No such luck. He was a biker this week. Braving the open road. And a grueling trip it was. His rig bore Nebraska tags, and there is no geographical point in Nebraska that is more than a day’s ride from Sturgis. Didn’t want to test the hair gel, I guess.

I arrived at my campground just outside of Sturgis late that evening, and "Then Came Bronson" met "The Griswolds." I was smacked in the face with the sight of a Winnebago motor home, replete with satellite dish and color TV flickering in the window. A fully-enclosed Wells Cargo trailer was protecting this badass guy's bike from the elements.

I don’t dress up as a doctor and crash country clubs. Why do these guys dress up as bikers and crash my biker parties?

I have since ridden to the other three big bike events in Daytona Beach, FL, Myrtle Beach, SC and Laconia, NH. Same guys, same trailers, same squeaky clean leathers, same "road bikes" on the wrong side of break-in mileage. I can only hope these posers and polishers tire of motorcycle trailering for sport and chase after a new hobby. How about flying? They can trailer their airplanes to fly-ins, don a leather helmet and silk scarf, and regale the onlookers with tales of aerial adventure. In the meantime, Halloween rules as they dress up in their trick-or-treat outfits and pretend to be bikers for a week.

Hey, Lance! At least tell your housekeeper not to iron the do-rag; the crease is a dead giveaway.