Motorcycle Views

The Sturgis Motorcycle Rally® attracts hundreds of thousands of motorcycle riders to Sturgis®, SD each August to be part of one of the biggest motorcycle rallies on the planet.

Each year, hundreds of thousands of motorcyclists head toward, what many feel, is the motorcycling mecca of the world, Sturgis®, and the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally® in South Dakota. The Sturgis Motorcycle Rally® takes place this year August 3-9. The links, below, should enable you to check out the various items mentioned in this article about the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally®. Several Web sites seem to want to be the "official" Sturgis Motorcycle Rally® site and some of these sites are often incomplete or have bad links.

The Sturgis Motorcycle Rally® began in 1938 by a small group of Jackpine Gypsies Motorcycle Club members to bring a few tourists into town. J. C. "Pappy" Hoel was one of the founders of this event which began as the Black Hills Motor Classic. The name was changed to Sturgis Rally and Races in 1992 to reflect the fact that the event was known world-wide as Sturgis and that racing was always a part of the rally since its inception.

Currently, the event is known as the Sturgis® Rally or Sturgis Motorcycle Rally®. What's in a name?

The Sturgis® Rally has grown over the years. In 1938 only a few people watched the local races. By 1940, 5000 spectators watched the races. During World War II, the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally® was cancelled for two years. In 1981 there were 25,000 riders coming to Sturgis® ; in 1987, 63,000; 1997 saw 220,000; and in 1998 over 360,000 people attended the Sturgis® rally. The size of the crowd sometimes depends on any special significance that might be placed on the event. You may notice me waving in the center of the picture at the top of this article. It was taken at the 1993 Sturgis rally.

Here's a story from Walter F. Kern. I wrote this story after my 6000 mile tour from New Jersey to Cody, Wyoming and back in 1993. I was 55 years old at the time and had been riding only four years, as had my wife. Some experienced riders wouldn't think much of this but taking this trip was a giant leap from my comfort zone and it truly was a wild adventure for Jane and me. Anyone who rides and has never taken a long motorcycle trip may be inspired after they read this to start planning one or giving up the thought altogether. I just found this story after going through pictures Jane had taken on the trip. I did not change a word of this story and I have included 11 pictures we took on the trip.

"REMEMBER WHEN MOTORCYCLES WERE DANGEROUS AND SEX WAS SAFE?" This '90s truism was emblazoned across the T-shirt worn by our friend Carmela as we sat in a restaurant in Lewes, Delaware on Halloween, 1992. My wife Jane and I had ridden down to Lewes from Freehold, New Jersey on our motorcycles to attend a polar bear motorcycle club meeting. We were new to motorcycling having only taken up the sport four years ago after we had entered our fifties. We started out by taking a course sponsored by the Motorcycle Safety Foundation. It was a speedy progression from obtaining our licenses, to Jane's joining a women's riding club - the Spokes-Women - to taking longer rides, to attending out-of- state rallies, and most recently, joining the AMA sponsored polar bear club that rides every Sunday throughout the Winter.

Carmela had ridden down with us. We sat there talking about how rapidly Jane and I had immersed ourselves in motorcycling. Carmela leaned over to me and said, "I'm planning to ride out to Cody, Wyoming next August to attend a rally. Want to come along?" Well, we had gone to several rallies as far away as Lancaster, PA, a distance of 130 miles but Cody was an unfathomable 2,500 miles away! The suggestion, however, did strike a cord somewhere within me and I began to ponder the consequences and the pitfalls of such a journey.

Jane and I were neophytes at motorcycling and we didn't even have bikes that were designed for long distance travel. It wasn't long before we made the decision to make the trip and began in earnest to plan for the adventure. I told Jane, "If we survive this trip, we'll either want to keep doing it or we'll never want to go again."

We purchased two identical 1990 Honda PCs in November and used them throughout the rest of the polar bear riding season. We plotted out our course west and realized that two other significant events would be taking place during our travel time: the Blackhills Motor Classic held at Sturgis, South Dakota and the 150th anniversary of the Oregon Trail. As it turned out, we also had to contend with the flooding in the Midwest.

As the time neared to start our journey, Carmela had decided to drop out but another couple, Harry and Donna, and our good friend Warren, 66, had decided to join us. Our caravan was to consist of four motorcycles and five people. Our ground rules were few. We would stop every hundred miles to get gas and take a break. We would ride until about 5 PM and then look for a motel. We would travel the interstates to make time because our primary goal was to sightsee in the South Dakota and Wyoming areas. I had one goal: get to Cody. Jane had another goal: get to the Grand Teton Mountains south of Yellowstone Park.

We began our adventure August 7 on a foggy, misty morning traveling down 1195 to meet our companions at the first rest stop on the New Jersey Turnpike. We rode hard the first two days and arrived weary in our hometown of Normal, Illinois, 900 miles from New Jersey.

We stayed at the home of Jane's sister, Carol. It was Carol and her husband Jack who were the inspiration for my making the original decision to take up motorcycling. We had listened to their many motorcycle stories over the years on visits to Illinois and spent many evenings looking longingly at their classic BMW motorcycles. Finally, four years ago, I asked Jane if she would like to learn to ride and her enthusiastic "yes" response started us down the path that had led to this trip. One of my dreams was to see Jane and her ~ sister ride their motorcycles together. That dream was soon realized on the third day of our adventure as they took a fifty mile ride through the Illinois countryside.

On the next day we left Illinois and crossed the Mississippi River at Davenport, Iowa. We witnessed firsthand the fury of that mighty river. Next came the flooded area at Des Moines, Iowa where people were still trying to put their lives back together.

Soon we were in Nebraska and found ourselves close to the original Oregon Trail where thousands of settlers had surmounted unbelievable odds to make new homes in the West. We stopped in the little town of Dannebrog, Nebraska, population 350, made famous by the monthly television report, "A Postcard from Nebraska," by Roger Welsch on the CBS Sunday Morning News. Jane went into a tiny cafe called the "Drive Inn" on the edge of town to use the bathroom. She walked in and asked if they had a public restroom. The proprietor said, "No, but you can go right back through the kitchen and use our bathroom." Jane said, "Are you serious. I don't want to impose." The proprietor insisted. After Jane had returned, she said, "You know, you are all famous. I watch all the stories about Dannebrog on TV." The proprietor replied, "Did you see that last show about the ice cream social? My wife made the ice cream." Jane said, "I also saw the segment about the potato soup contest. They said they ran out of potatoes in town because everybody was making potato soup." "Yeah," said the proprietor, "My wife won third place in that." Jane really felt welcome in Dannebrog and couldn't stop talking about the people she met there.

We traveled on Route 2 through the Sand Hills region of Nebraska heading northwest toward South Dakota. This region was my personal favorite. We probably saw 10 cars in 50 miles - such a pleasure coming from New Jersey - and we just spread out our bikes and looked all around at the beautiful rolling horse and cattle ranches, the clear blue streams and lakes and occasional 100-car coal trains heading East from Wyoming.

We encountered only one bad motel experience on the trip. It occurred in a tiny town in Nebraska. The only motel in town was operated out of a gas station. The room had a door without a lock, a 10 inch black- and-white TV with three flickering channels, a bathroom fixture turned on and off using a wrench, and numerous bugs. When Jane turned down the bedspread, a grasshopper jumped out. "We are sleeping in the same bed tonight," she said. "If anything bites me, it's going to bite you too."

On the next day, we passed into South Dakota and headed toward Mount Rushmore. We stayed in the Rapid City area for the next four days enjoying the sights of Mount Rushmore, Custer State Park, the Badlands, and Sturgis.

About this time, our group decided to split up. Harry and Donna decided to pursue the Glacier National Park region while Warren, Jane and I would stick together.

We were told that Sturgis hosted over 200,000 motorcyclists during this, its fifty third year. Jane was excited as I led the group into Sturgis and turned down Main Street. That's me waving in the picture ... Now read the complete story.

Watch what's happening right now on Main Street in Sturgis. You'll see a new picture every 30 seconds.

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