This year caused a Y2K Emery Family Reunion in Denver. My wife used it as an
excuse for a bigger production -- driving out and back while stopping at
various places. She will be teaching for either one more semester or year
and retiring. To my regret, I figured that I will have to lay down my
wrenches for possibly three weeks, but you have to appease the other half.
This occasion got off to a bad start. Her 85 year father did not show up for
his news papers. I drove over to his place only to find him dead. After
that, I didn't feel like doing anything.
The funeral passed, and my wife insisted that we fly to the reunion and drive
back in a rental, which we did for some obscene price. The reunion was a
success, which included one of our daughters from London and a niece from
Switzerland.
We then were told that all motels and camp grounds were filled within a 200
mile radius of Deadwood, ND due to the Sturgis 2000 Motorcycle Rally
(8/7-13/00). It was estimated that 500,000 to 1,000,000 cyclers will attend
this event. Half way through the week, the estimate was 700,000.
My wife desperately wanted to see the area, and we luckily landed one evening
in Rapid City and two evenings in Wall due to cancellations. Everywhere you
looked, there were thousands of beautiful Harley's. I wanted to drive into
Sturgis to look around, but was told that cars were low priority, and I
probably couldn't get within three miles of the place.
Many cyclers hauled their bikes in on trailers, but many others rode them --
one, 1700 miles from Long Island and another, from Texas. I mentioned to a
group that my 1981 Yamaha 650 would not be acceptable for this event. The
answer was that it would be acceptable, just so you had something to ride.
After pointing out a clump of Hondas, they said that Harley riders no longer
discriminate against Jap machines.
Were any of the criminal gangs there (Hell's Angels, Outlaws, etc.)? If they
were, they were so badly out numbered that they couldn't be detected. The
event seemed like a SCCA or vintage race environment -- everyone having fun.
You would see swarms of cyclers pull into rest areas and get on their cell
phones to call their brokers or businesses. I imagine that most of them pull
off their long hair wigs, wash off their fake tattoos, and go back to work.
There were also many normal looking people there, plus some good looking
Mighty Ms's riding there own bikes.
Maybe when I get thrown off the race track for being an old fart, I will
renovate my cycle and be a retread. It has 21,000 miles on it from riding to
and from the Nuclear Plants, and has been sitting since 1985. At that time,
the three kids were approaching college, and I figured that it was a bad time
for me to splatter my assets all over the asphalt.
I imagine the estate settling activities will further impact my racing
efforts. Our three kids have my garage jammed up from bringing over items
from their grandfather's house. I hope that I didn't bore too many people
with my gas-bagging, and that those of you who read only technical material
deleted this dissertation before you opened it.
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