I was riding the I-90 line with no time for dilly-dallying,
no time or place for photos … to Billings, Montana, Sheridan, Wyoming, Gillette, Wyoming, Moorcroft,
Wyoming. I was communicating with the
Hoka Hey Cowboy, Mac. He was planning to
meet me in Moorcroft and escort me to Custer.
I’m still trying to figure it out as to whether people want to make sure
I get where I’m going, or they want to be sure they’re getting rid of me. Maybe I’ll find out someday.
About 50 miles east of Billings I started seeing the
trailers, lots of them, more than I’ve seen in my previous Sturgis visits. Many of them were easily identifiable by the
Harley stickers on them. I figured they
were all headed to the trailer rally in Sturgis. It’s the 75th anniversary, but I
don’t quite believe that what’s happening now is how it all started 75 years
ago.
In Sheridan, about 200 miles from Sturgis, I saw a bunch of
fancy bikes all gassing up. I did not
see any bugs on those bikes or luggage (although they could have had a chase
vehicle). I noticed the plates, and they
were not from anywhere around here.
Going down the road I also noticed the plates on the vehicles and
trailers. They were the same as those on
the bikes. They must have unloaded the
bikes to gas them up so they could unload them closer and ride into Sturgis.
I’m thinking I have a niche market. I can get tons of bugs off my bike, package
them up and sell them to those who didn’t ride, they can plaster them onto
their bikes and it will make it look like they rode.
I just kept riding my ride.
On occasion some bikes would pass, and I’d tag along with them for a
bit. Usually I’d do that with the guys
who were running the speed limit of 80 mph.
Just to show them I could. Then I’d
back off, and continue as before, running mostly a bit less than speed. If I rode 70 or less my gas mileage would be
50 mpg or so. If I ran 80, it dropped to
under 40. I preferred better gas
mileage.
Contact with Cowboy was going on. The plan was to meet him in Moorcroft about 4
p.m. I rolled in right on time and
headed to the gas station I saw up ahead.
As I was about a block away, I heard my name, “Patti.” I turned and there he was, standing in the
shade of a building … in a gravel parking area, of course.
I turned around and came back. Big hugs were in order. He asked if I’d eaten because in one of my
texts I said I hoped food in Moorcroft was in my future. I’d only had a little oatmeal and a granola
bar. Cowboy had saved me half of a
sandwich. I do believe as I sat on a
concrete block in that parking lot that that sandwich was one of the best I’d
ever eaten. And then we were off.
Cowboy and me. It was good to see him. |
The deer are so gentle-looking. I wonder if this little spike would be at all aggressive. I don't need to know. |
How cool is this? Lenny even put a toothbrush there for me in my bathroom. |
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