I’m thinking about riding over to Sturgis. I know, I know. So smack me across the face and chastise me severely. (And note that the link points to the town’s rally web site, although there are more than a few other Sturgis rally sites with things to sell you, believe me.)

Harley’s remarkable recovery from the edge of bankruptcy to its return to dominance in the North American motorcycle market due to embracing modern manufacturing and advertising methods, just as much as brand recognition, has ensured that the Harley-dominated rally sites are filled to overflowing with strange people attempting to emulate the bikers. Fortunately, clothes don’t make the man in that endeavor, either.

Huge – and I do mean huge – crowds of people show up on too many motorcycles at these rallies. Endless lines of bikes running to and fro mean traffic jams and mile after mile of bikes all going to the same place.

The Sturgis rally is not reserved for Harleys only. Anyone can and does attend, on any brand. Some even show up sans motorcycle, satisfied to profile in their biker duds. And really, who’s to know whether they’re “real” bikers or not? Here’s a visual clue one of the vendor girls told me about quite a few years back: they check boots for the telltale shifter scuff.

Up to half a million people – in a good year – are wont to jam into Sturgis, a town of 6,500 people during the rest of the year. Police recruited from across the nation are invited to converge and issue tickets for the silliest things, just to show everyone who’s boss. In fact, those “ticket sales” generate the town’s major source of revenue for the entire year. Well, that, and vendor fees, but I’d suggest that tickets are the major source.

The Sturgis motorcycle rally – as opposed to “The Sturgis Motorcycle Rally” – has started to get smart and begins happening during the week before the “official” rally begins. That suits me just fine, since I got tired of the place in the late ’80s. It really began spiraling downwards full-speed during the ’90s and hasn’t piqued my curiosity since.

Although…

More and more riders are rolling into town during the week before. The pace is relaxed, the people are genuine and the atmosphere is entirely different. There are a few vendors who get it and are setting up during that prior week also.

I am sorely tempted.

The 67th Sturgis Motorcycle Rally runs from August 6 to August 12, 2007.

Over the last six years I had become accustomed to riding almost every day, but with this winter’s riding layoff I knew that my skills would be rusty. Consequently, since spring arrived I’ve been going on short, 200 mile runs to get back up to speed. It doesn’t take long to clean up the rusty reflexes, balance and friction-zone control, but breaking in a sore butt and a tired back certainly takes a while.

There’s no doubt that daily riding keeps one conditioned for the rigors of the road. Scanning ahead, using the mirrors regularly, checking intersections, vehicle separation, watching for left-turners or people talking on cell phones or eating or opening a car door in your path — all becomes second nature for a rider’s safety. When you’re invisible, it pays to treat everything as a hazard. Daydreaming — especially when riding in cities and towns — isn’t allowed.

City riding on a regular basis is boring, as far as I’m concerned. There’s nothing I dislike more than stop-and-go impeding the enjoyment of my chosen lifestyle. Plenty of others will ride up and down those same streets like it was Friday night, going nowhere or hitting the peeler bar and nightclub circuit with friends. Not me. My preference is for the open road where the ride is the enjoyment. Getting there is more than half the fun, and when the destination arrives, the gypsy in me is anxious to be just a little farther down the road.

So, once again I’m happy to know that I am going to be saddlesore again after the winter. Fortunately, it was a mild winter with the ground mostly barren of snow, and that allowed many others to get in their share of winter riding.

No matter how long the wait, I’ll take the open highway over that every time.

Tulsa looks to be a pretty nice place. It’s clean, and seems new.

Bob and his wife met up with me and we proceeded to take a look at Mayfest, Tulsa’s annual street festival. It’s the usual collection of booths and fair material – music events, artwork, drink stands, hot dogs and various and sundry collections. It’s always nice to get out and see how the other half lives, especially the pretty girls in their summer finery. Tulsa is no exception.

Bob didn’t have good luck at the hot dog stand, but that’s another story. I, on the other hand, drank some of the best lemonade I’ve ever tasted.

Following the girl-watching, we went for a drive to see the sights along the Arkansas river. Most of the riverbank has been developed into a park-like setting, with paths for joggers, walkers, bicycling and picnic areas. Fantastic!

A late lunch at the Crow Creek Tavern where we could watch the motorcycles passing by ended the afternoon. I liked the place so much I bought a t-shirt.