BiketoberFest, Daytona Beach
“Florida’s Fall Biker Rally Turns into a Hurricane Party!”

2005

Thursday, October 20, 2005

It’s different living on the northern edge of the tropics. When a Caribbean depression forms, we’re on it from the get-go. By the time someone in Chicago learns of a Florida storm, we’ve been studying it for weeks, because our property, our lives are on the line. For over ten days, I’d been figuring it’ll bust over the horizon just in time for Biketoberfest, but it gave us a few extra days, all we needed to raise some cane. The… ”Oh, what the hell, let’s just go!” mentality was strong as we shared the interstate on the way to central Florida, with renegade, fearless, (or tourists w/non-refundable deposits), party animals, but everyone agrees many bikers left early, and this year’s turnout was down from ’04. Biketoberfest generally draws about 65 to 75 thousand bikers. It’s America’s last big motorcycle rally before the dead of winter sets in. Our last 90 miles to Daytona blasted by so quickly, feeling the S&S cough, then having to twist the reserve tank spigot surprised me, but there was a sign for LPGA Boulevard exit off I-95, and we’re less than a dozen miles from party central. I’m buzzed from 90 minutes of running with the lickety-split southbound I-95 traffic. Those Yankees are hell-bent for the beach. Run with them, or get run over by them, because they will haul ass. God, I love it.

Hurricane Katrina destroyed much of New Orleans, but what hurricane Wilma did to South Florida was no day at the beach, either. She came in hard, and flattened Broward County. Six lives were lost, and can you imagine being without electricity for 2 weeks? Everything runs on electric, including gasoline stations. No gas, no getaway. It stinks. At the end of 2005, damage to buildings, signs is still apparent, with piles of storm refuse awaiting pickup.

Biketoberfest is mostly populated by Floridians, and you just don’t run off to a bike rally when your electricity is about to die, and your roof may wind up in the ocean. Still, there were more than enough of us to make this one, a big party anyway.

We pull off for Daytona, stopping for gas, & I look for metal shards, roofing nails, and assorted crap lining the gutters. It’s like the city just waits for it to rain hard instead of buying a sweeper. Last Biketoberfest, just as I pulled into Arlen Ness’s lot for a free space, my rear tire went flat. A roofing nail, punctured my Metzler while I swung off for a gas up, at a station less than a mile back. Although this was another money flat, it automatically becomes a “lucky” flat, if it’s discovered at my place, or somewhere convenient, like the dealership. So, back to ’05... This is Thursday, and it’s pretty damn quiet. I could pull up anywhere on Beach Street and find spots to park, over 10 feet wide. There are plenty of people walking and riding, but it’s definitely not crowded at all. I’m already seeing Tee-Shirts at $5. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of motorcycles, and they are packed into Main, but not crazy jammed, like usual. Some try to blame it on the price of gas, but we know that’s bullshit. First, there’s Wilma. Second, events at Daytona and Sturgis are spreading out, because bikers want to assemble in large numbers, but don’t want to trip over each other for days, while paying $200 bucks a night for a place to crash. When I look out 2 or 3 years, all I see on Beach Street is condos. That’s what the city wants, and developers are only too happy to spread out the necessary cash to break ground. The big party is moving north, toward the corner of US 1, & I-95 near Ormond, about ten miles up the road from Daytona. And they said it would never happen. The Broken Spoke, smoked turkey leg stands, and camping have been there for years, and now Destination Daytona, the new Rossmeyer shrine is sucking shops and builders into the area. On Friday night, they threw a free ride for us, with eats, some great long-sleeved shirts from American Ironhorse, and VIP seating at the Foreigner show. ZZ Top cancelled Saturday night rock fest due to Wilma… Pussies!

As I cruise main street on this first day of Biketoberfest, it takes less than five minutes to find a curbside spot to park. During spring’s bike week, you’d have to arrive at 8am to find one. It’s not even noon, and already it’s blazing hot, the way the air feels when there’s a big one brewing, you know, the “calm before the storm”. The girls are attired in the skimpiest, legal attire they can find. I could hide two of their bikinis in the palm of my hand, gotta' love it! We move out to do some interviews, and on drop into Wiseguys, a local joint on Main. Couple dozen people inside, and six empty bar stools. Yeah, it was like this everywhere we went. Lots of people, but not as many as expected, and you know, I liked it. Even the Jack Daniels Girls had a little time to spend looking into my 35 mm lens, and the “lick it” lady was as fine from the front as the…well, see her pic!

Finishing up my beverage, and stepping out onto into the hot sun, some pumped up individual on a hopped up Harley Night Train does a little burnout at the light, and is immediately ticketed by the man. (He’s probably taking that yellow slip back to New York for framing.) We check out the vendors, grab some interviews, and it’s time for dinner. Stepping inside Daytona’s most famous oyster bar was like walking in on an ordinary Monday. Maybe 15 people in the whole place. It took less than 5 minutes from ordering to having two giant platters of steaming clams and oysters slid toward our salivating pie holes. Last spring, you’d had to wait on the street to be seated. We love it, and reorder another pile of steamed oysters, mmmmm, oysters!. After that, it’s back up I-95 to spend the night at the ultra-plush, maximum security, ABM compound.

Friday, October 21

Wilma is breaking loose from the grip of Mexico, and wailing toward what still might be an indirect hit at Daytona. The weather radar shows scattered showers from far outer bands of rain, but it’s not going to keep me away, because of work commitment on Saturday. The promise of free food, free clothes, and a free rock show suck the chop down the road 100 miles, and just past noon, I’m back on Main street, Daytona. More people than yesterday, still not packed. It’s a little cooler than the day before.
Later, I work the Speedway area. Eats, shirts, parts, cool new stuff, and demos. Major manufacturers were providing free rides! You could get up to a half-hour on a Harley, Kawasaki, Honda, Suzuki, etc. If you’re looking to test ride, this is how you could do it. Local dealers are a lot less likely to let you test than major manufacturers. Dealers usually don’t have deep enough pockets to insure against riders who don’t know what in the hell they’re doing. Meanwhile, I ran into a couple of girls from Minneapolis, where I’d been last August, and we had a heated discussion about Florida weather. (Jeez, Louise, it’s only 90!) They couldn’t wait to get back home, back to the icebox. (We’ll check back with them around January to see how she’s goin’, EH?)

Late in the afternoon, it was the Ironhorse ride, show, and dinner. Got a phone call from my weather bunny, warning me of a rain band coming on strong. I beat it back home, dodging the big drops and a dozen loud, shock-wave-close lightening strikes, all in the last few miles. If you run fast enough, the bike doesn’t get wet? Bummer not being able to spend more time, but there still was Sunday, right?

Sunday, October 23

Uninvited guest, Wilma is bearing down on the Florida coastline. Daytona still hasn’t fully recovered from the last storm. Unknown to me, a lot of the vendors were packing up and leaving early. Attendance was okay, but nowhere near years past. I’m ready to go back down the road one more time, but the road ain’t ready for me. The weather channel shows big green gobs coming in fast. After fussing over it for a couple hours, the idea of dodging storms after two great days in the sun, shuts this ride down, and for me, caps off HurricaneFest, ’05. Those that planned on coming, but gave in to paranoia, lost out. Those who made it were rewarded with no waiting in line, real cold beer, thousands of happy bikers, and biker hotties basking in warm Florida sun. Look at the photos. Do you see any rain? Any clouds? Any hurricane?

(We’re all having a great time, but you’d never know it from the stoic expression on some faces. Smile! I’m surprised how many good looking chicks will smile right back at me. No tough biker stares! (Maybe it’s just the outcropping of a
severe hangover, but some of y’all are looking like yer' dog just got run over!)

Hey, say you’re not too crazy about Daytona Spring Bike week crowds, but you still want to feel the sand between your toes, and get some salt air in your lungs, squeezing in an extra week of fine riding. Next year, come on down and party with the locals. Biketoberfest, 2006, runs October 19th through the 22nd. I’ll probably be the biker impatiently waiting in line for an oyster platter!