Sturgis 2004:
The Chip is a Trip!*

2004

Top 5 tips to keep your Sturgis trip expense to a grand or less:

1) Camp, if at all possible. Rooms start at $150/night, single.
2) Bring beer, dry goods, nonperishable food from home if you’re trailering.
3) Keep a list of the cheapest rooms, gas stations in all states.
4) The least expensive Sturgis collectibles ain’t on the main drag.
5) Charred mammal flesh is 25 cents on the dollar if you burn it yourself.

* may be applicable to any rally!

Monday, August 9
The Weather Channel extended Rapid City forecast calls for a 5-10% chance of rain, lows in the 50’s, highs in the 70’s, so we take the bait…..ROADTRIP ! 20 hours later, a little burnt, but glad to be in Sturgis, we’re doin’ the five foot stop-n-go, on a cool sunny Monday afternoon, already working out a shortcut for the next time to bypass downtown. Lawns in front of homes have bikers camped out to the curb, prices start at $25/night. Sturginians are renting out everything in the friggin’ house—Shower, commode, washer/dryer, hose water, the farmer’s daughter, and who knows what else. “Titty Inspection Stations”, hot bikes & hotties, are everywhere, but no cops, until we get to the top of the hill heading up to Glencoe and the Buffalo Chip, where local boys had some radar, gone in a couple of days. We pull in to the Chip, and get into a long line for wristbands, passing time in the sunshine with Coronas and bullshit. The whole entrance area is jammed with Harleys, assorted trailers, and rv’s rolling in and out, the lucky ones enter, we wait. In the movie “From Dusk ‘Til Dawn”, there’s a parking lot fronting a Mexican bar called the “Titty Twister”. This flick sorta resembles a small scale look at the entrance. Finally, we get 4 wristbands each, one for every day we’ll be there. Mine says # 68,972—whoa. Every section of the Buffalo Chip is packed, so they open up 100 very windy acres at the top of the hill closest to town. The promised porta potties never arrived, so creative peeing was the norm. Look…if you can’t tinkle in a mayonnaise jar, if you don’t like dust and dirt, then keep your Porsche-Driving, Celine Dion-listening ass at home, come in an rv, or give up beer. Hey, there were flush restrooms/baths down the hill near the stage, about a 3 minute ride, but runnin’ back ‘n forth all the way down there 5 times a day gets old fast. (Make mine “mayo”, honey!) The Chip costs about $40/night/per person for camping, including the shows. If ya don’t camp there, you still pay for admission to the shows, so you might as well pitch a tent. If you don’t like the bands, you might be better off with Glencoe, downhill, right across from the Saloon. Camping was $250, stay long as you want.

At the Chip, you get used to the sound of Meatwagons, but they seem to be fewer as the week wears on—(the craziest usually crash first?). We opt to tent upwind of the road, upwind of the dirt. I take a 60 mile ride into the hills north of the campground, on a cold, deserted road, and it felt good to be all alone, winding out the mill. Later that night, ZZ Top sounded like they were lip-synching to a slowed-down track, with a really bad sound system. The crowd hardly applauded. A great 70’s band, and then, Billy Gibbons took up golf. (Don’t get me wrong…I’m still a big fan of their recorded music.) Back up the hill, the sleeping bag was warm and cozy, but people are up gettin’ loaded, and crawling down deep into the bag doesn’t muffle the sounds of burnouts, loud music, and a few squeals of delight as hard-core party animals rock on to the wee hours….

Tuesday, August 10
Hell, it’s 40 degrees! Imagine sleeping outdoors on the same night you cover your plants for a frost, and you got the ass freezin’ picture. 7am, and what is rain, probably started out as snow. Where did I put that mayonnaise jar? Bungee a bath kit over the ‘bars, its washtime, man I need some soap ‘n’ water. Right near our gate, for an extra 5 dollars, we could have a “hot” shower instead of a “warm” one. ( Warm works for me! ), and I make…

Big Mistake #1:

Taking a shower at 8am. Do it at 6pm unless you want a “Bahamas” shower, where it drips twice each time you pull that bastard of a rope. Am in freakin’ pain as Dakota-cold drips of H2o roll down my bony-butt, and just to make things real special, the bathroom porter is blaring evangelist muzik out of a ghetto blaster with 2 blown speakers, and it ain’t even Sunday. This may have been to make us want that $15. shower. You have been forewarned.

Perked coffee between chilly rain pelts, and finally about noon, Mr. Sunshine returns. The Chip dried fast, and once more, the dust started flying. Let me be clear; no matter where you go in the Buffalo Chip Campground, you will encounter dust if it’s not raining, mud if it is. There are no paved roads. Hell, the concert pit isn’t even paved. Waited until the last minute to buy my pass, dust I can deal with, 4 days of mud—insane.

By now, my ‘Horse is officially a dirt bike, and we ride into town for some shirts ‘n’ shots. Indian Larry Desmedt is signing & posing at J&P Cycles. He patiently takes time to initial everything from titties to tee shirts, and nonstop poses for pictures, treating everyone like they are special. I’m gonna miss Larry, he was the real deal, went out doing what he loved. We rip up some pavement with the bro’s, shoot the shit, and do what we do, but at 60 degrees, it’s too cold to head up to Deadwood where it’s probably in the low 50’s. The big blues show in town was cancelled, so no tickets to be had. We grab a couple raw T-Bones at the local grocery, and trip back to the Chip. The Beach Boys (there’s only one still touring) are set for 10pm. We’re underwhelmed, and go slice up some limes. There’s a cowboy on a horse, a theft prevention patrol, but we left shit behind all the time, including the chop, and had no problems. There are no cops inside the Chip, you do what you want, and if the people next to you don’t like it, they can move. You will hear loud music most of the night, along with those never-ending burnouts. A Colorado hippy couple has moved in next door with their ’69 BSA 650 chopper. It’s the shit. A prairie dog is digging a hole five feet from my tent, he’s welcome, but he ain’t getting anywhere near the “family jewels”!

Wednesday, August 11
We’re annoyed ‘cause we’ve been here 48 hours, and didn’t do a dammed thing, except get drunk twice, so we saddle up and do a couple hundred loop starting w/Deadwood. Stopped in at Old Number 10, where “Wild Bill Hickock” got backshot during a poker game. We pounded double Jose shots in the spot where Bill left this life. The bars there are open 24-7. It’s a casino town now, but as many as 200,000 miners were packed into Deadwood at one time in the 1800’s. There were no toilets, so if you wanted to take a dump,you headed for the street. Add in your animals, and Deadwood had to be a very shitty place to live. “Potato Creek Johnny”, all of 4’3” tall, found the largest nugget ever in the Black Hills, almost one half-pound, and when’s the last time you saw a “Bikers—Free Beer” sign at a rally? Man, if we stay, we’re gonna get loaded, and I got nothing against gambling, but we’re on a mission here! So, up the hills on 385 south through Lead, and down to Custer, where we got dynamite deals on Sturgis collectibles. Don’t pass up Custer State Park, if you wanna get real close to some Buffalo. Go slow in the twisties. The animals and their feces pile up on some parts of the road, and that crap’s slippery, not to mention it’s hell to get offa the pipes, even with toothpaste. If you can spend some extra time, try the unpaved roads for an even closer get together. 10 feet was close enough for me. Some of those bulls are bigger than a Hummer, and they give a nasty stare and wag their tails just before charging. You’ll find posters telling about all the people who have been gored by Buffalo, but some dumb inbreds still insist on getting right up close and personal. A Buffalo Burger w/onion is close enough for me. We really enjoyed this ride, and you gotta go, period. On the last leg of the loop up to I-90, a road bro mentioned camping outside Deadwood for $12/day- Ours was $38, but hell, we had the fabulous BBoys, but tonight it’s REO and Heart, it’s freezin’ cold up in these mountains as we roll back to Sturgis. Later, night falls, and a thousand Harleys are scattered about the concert pit, rollin’ on the throttle. Turf burnouts are going on everywhere. Put up the stand, crank it up, and burnout until the she sits on the frame, then go get a beer—So, REO does an hour, they’re not bad, but not real good either. Heart comes on, and they’re pretty good, until the ballads get going, and we hit the tent.

Thursday, August 12
Hey, it’s in the 50’s this morning! The prairie view is replaced by bikes, tents, & RV’s, and many of the arriving crowd are younger than the people we’ve been with all week. We mount up for 300 miles to and through the Badlands. We run into Russ Mitchell/Exile Cycles at the Sturgis on ramp, and tail ‘em 100mph down I-90 until he and two bro’s disappear into the distance-(my old lady ain’t too crazy about running 120mph, two up, and as we all know, you do what the woman sez, at least when they’re wit’ cha…).

A quick jump on to Rt 44 at Box Elder, and we’re in the middle of nowhere. Take Radar Hill Road over the hump to reach 44. (It ain’t on the map, so if you’re lost, get directions at the gun shop). It’s a timesaver, and remember; This is a very desolate stretch of two lane. Gas up in Rapid City, ‘cause at Senic, there was just one working pump with 86 octane that ran like kerosene. Weak gas is something you learn to live with west of the Pecos. Parts of Arizona and the Texas Big Bend have gas pumps where 85 is regular, and that’s all they got.

I whip out some jet fuel to feed the thirsty S&S 111, and to fill our tanks, across the street, no Longhorn Steak House, but they got some fine buffalo burgers for 3 bucks, & a funky old bar called the Longhorn Saloon , adorned with sun-bleached skulls…perfect! We head due north and into the Badlands with hundreds of bikers, stopping and clicking until reaching Wall in I-90. (Someone please tell me what the big deal is with this damm drugstore?) Powering up the interstate toward Sturgis, we’re leaning 70 degrees into a 30 knot wind. Another 20 minute fight against carpel tunnel clutch syndrome in the slow Sturgis traffic, and we pull into the jam-packed Buffalo Chip, where all the people we met before were partying with all the new arrivals. The numbers had increased tenfold on our hill. It was getting real crazy with burnouts and assorted shit goin’ on, everyone gettin’ real loud. After relaxing with a few adult beverages and some charred mammal flesh, I make….

Big mistake #2:

Getting on the chop, and expecting to park it inside the concert area. By now, it’s dark, rolled to within 100 yards of the entrance, people are packed even outside the concert pit, & it took a few minutes to even turn around to run my putt back up the hill. They weren’t letting bikes into the staging area, unlike the other nights, because, It was sold out—at least 75,000, and that’s only a guess. My pic’s don’t do justice to the crowd size, they only show half the crowd. Never have I seen so many wired people in one place in my life, and I’ve been around. At 10 pm sharp, Kid Rock’s system punched through to the masses loud and clean, he was at the top of the game. If you’ve seen his Discovery Channel ride with Jesse down into Mexico’s Copper Canyon, you already know the Kid holds bikers in the highest possible regard. Hell, he’s one of us. When they did “Paid”, and “Cadilac Pussy”, the ladies went way outta control! This show has a little something for everyone, including… DANCING GIRLS IN CAGES! (not cars, bros!) 2 hetro girls the left cage, and you-know-what on the right. All around me, nipples were exposed to the crisp night air, stuffed flesh swinging like giant swaying Dakota love-bags! Quasimoto could get laid here! Man, I gotta quit taking my film to WAL-MART and buy a digital camera. Words cannot describe this scene, can only tell you that there was no where in America, or for that matter, the world more happening on this Thursday night. Know how the night goes real fast when you’re partying your ass off? Well, what seemed like 30 minutes was nearly 2 hours, a defining moment, transcending even time. Make no mistake, it was a combination of the music, and that righteous biker crowd. People from around the world, Canada, Mexico, and all 50 states on free soil, no police protection, yet….. not a single fight. Shit, I even got my ass pinched twice-hey hey!

Wish I could say more about Sturgis proper, but really, the town’s more about the shopping/walking/looking, and s-i-x cops standing on o-n-e corner at the end of Main. (Can you say ‘DAYTONA’?) If the downtown blues concert (BB King, J.Geils, Elvin Bishop) hadn’t been cancelled, the town probably would have been more happening, although am sure many of you have great memories of your nights in downtown Sturgis. Wanted to see J. Geils one more time real bad, but it was not to be. Hank Jr played on Monday, and only drew 3,000 so the rest of the week’s outdoor downtown concerts were cancelled, and so the crowd focused on the Chip.

Midnight, at the Chip, thousands of people are going ballistic, burning out, and raising hell, laughing, debauching everyone in sight. About 4am, some crazy nut w/open pipes screams by our tent doin’ 50, and takes out two guide ropes. We have reached a state of Nirvana.

Friday, August 13
After coming 2,000 miles to Sturgis, we figured, hell, what’s another 1,000… we camp on the north shore of Yellowstone Lake just to have the hell scared out of us at 10pm, by a hundred migrating Timberwolves, but that’s another story. On the way there, at a gas station near Cody, Wyoming, people were talking about somebody named “Charley”. Even Florida’s additional two hurricanes couldn’t dampen the great memories of Sturgis 2004.