We had three nights in Deadwood - more than enough to get out and enjoy the fabulous riding and scenery South Dakota has to offer, including the massive Black Hills Harley Davidson - there parking lot is the size of a small suburb, and come Bike Week in August, will be absolutely chocka.
I have come to the conclusion that Deadwood is a sad town, with residents living hand to mouth as poorly paid servants to those passing through We went to the local laundromat, mainly because my riding jeans had almost taken on a life of their own after a couple of weeks of use. This establishment was hardly a credit to its absentee owner, but after a bit of trial and error tempered by the hard earned experience of other frustrated punters, we got the job done. Today’s ride began with an hour of “mountain” riding, followed by hours of “prairie riding”, where boredom due to 10’s of miles of dead straight riding, even at speeds of over 100 mph (160 kph) can become a real issue. The landscape is pretty flat, pretty consistent, with not too much to stimulate the rider. That said, there was the occasional carcass of a deer who’d fallen foul of a fast moving motorist - not something a motorcyclist would like to hit, alive or dead. As usual we lucked in on the odd “full Monty” gas station, one that offered extraordinary food, be it burgers, salads, muffins, coffee, whatever. Linda got into a conversation with a woman who drove an 18 wheeler rig for Walmart who’d parked up for a mandatory rest break. At one stop in a very rural town some of us went to Subway, after a drive through liquor store seemingly made out of old bits of plywood just about the only thing around. During our stop I heard a couple of locals talking and was again reminded how much distance there was between here and the lovies of either coast. These are simple rural people are surrounded by thousands of miles of countryside perfect for hunting, bush craft and traditions that the lovies would see come to an end… no wonder there are slogans like”from my cold dead hand” implying that the wankers from Washington or wherever will have a fight on their hands to repeal the Second Amendment, the right to bear arms. We ate up the miles, eventually arriving in Laramie during the heat of the afternoon (bad, and about to get worse with each passing day). The route to our hotel took us through a fairly humble of town that probably doesn’t appear in the tourist information, another reminder of humility. Comments are closed.
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Don MalcolmA perfect day involves being on my Harley with a long ride ahead.
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