3 Weeks until the 66th Anual Black Hills Motor Classic

In the midst of a crisis in the Middle East, a campaign effort in full swing, a garden that's about ready to harvest and can, and dealing with 3 teen-age kids who are all to ready to go back to school, I'm looking forward to a break. That break is a scant 3 weeks away, and will come in the form of the 66th Anual Black Hills Motor Class, in Sturgis, South Dakota.

The Sturgis tradition continues, after all these years, as a way for motorcycle enthusiasts of all stripes, religions, and beliefs to come together to ride, take in some great music, and celebrate freedom. It is an experience unparalled anywhere on earth, and has to be seen to be believed. Many years the attendence exceeds over 500,000 bikers. Groups like the Hell's Angels and El Foresteros ride alongside the Christian Motorcycle Association, and the majority of bikers: individuals and couples, groups of friends and co-workers. Some are mechanics, some are lawyers, some are plumbers, some are janitors, and some are physicians. It doesn't matter at Sturgis. Nobody wears a nametag. Nobody wears a uniform. When you belly up to the bar, the biker next to you could be an outlaw, but he could be a prominent attorney (but I'm being redundant here LOL).

Miles and miles of cycles pour into South Dakota and Wyoming from everywhere in the United States, Mexico, and Canada. The home of ranchers, buffalo, numerous national forests rich with history, American Indians, white men and anyone else with a motorcycle ride free as a brotherhood. Sturgis has no shortage of chrome, leather, silicone and testosterone. The U.S. Air force regularly performs fly-overs. The Mobil Vietnam Veterans Memorial is on display. Groups ranging from The American Cannabis Society to Bikers for Christ set up booths downtown. A biker can order a shot of whiskey, he can attend a bible study, or he can just ride through the black hills and take in the scenery.

Sturgis Bike Weeks is truly a celebration of diversity and freedom. It draws rugged individualists from every corner of the nation. It's long on individual liberty, and short on regulation. Bikers outnumber police about 10,000 to 1. Yet for some reason, I've never seen any problems, nor do I ever feel ill-at ease. After all, I'm safe, and my property is safe, because the legislature is not in session!

I have never felt more at home than I do in the black hills of South Dakota with 500,000 of my closest biker friends. In fact, I was so inspired by it, that I wrote this poem:

Chrome and leather, horses of steel
As far as can be, a scene so surreal
Thunder in the streets; the artwork goes by
The fire in the pipes ascends to the sky

An offering of humility; a feeling of tranquility
Amidst the lone savage is a belief in civility
To flirt with death is to be married to life
The lure of a mistress brings love to a wife

Ink on the skin; some say it's a sin
Feeling is human, it comes from within
You may deny it now, and avoid it somehow;
It comes back tenfold; to it you will bow

Freedom to move, freedom to ride
Your wife at your back, your friend at your side
Open the throttle, it obeys your command
Hundreds of horses in the palm of your hand

To those who don't know; to those who don't care
The future lies in the youth who stop as they stare
An honest opinion is a child's dominion
The excitement of the day can never go away

So saddle your horse, then plot your course
Your ride awaits, you'll have no remorse!
Set up your tent, then bare your breast...
We're goin' to sturgis, the best of the best!