Every biker we talked to on our way into Sturgis from the Badlands told us that we’d be finding one of two things. The kindest and most warm-hearted people, or the craziest party we could imagine. Now, Brendan and I are all about having some crazy experiences on this trip, and getting to see first hand what Sturgis bike week was all about seemed right up that ally. I have to admit, having told this story to some friends already, that I didn’t have any expectations for what this would be like. For some reason there was no computation in my head for what kind of party a bunch of biker dudes would throw. We rolled into town and just barely missed an appearance by John McCain where he suggested his wife should enter the strip to your skin beauty pageant.

What we didn’t miss was a monster storm. After taking refuge on the lawn of a Sturgis resident, we started making the rounds and getting directions from the wonderful community of people that seemed to come to this same yard every year. There were showers and a big garage for all the bikes. Maps and Guest books logged all the travelers. People seemed to come to this place to enjoy the parties and the vendors but mostly…to enjoy the people. Only planning on staying for the night, we headed out to see what all the party was about. After walking down the main drag and hitting two bars, it was pretty clear what the situation was. Not only was the crowd quite a bit older than we’d imagined, but the crazy party everyone talked about was nothing more than these middle aged white guys drinking a ton of alcohol. The TnA portion of this ‘crazy party’ turned out to be college age girls who were flown or bussed in from around the country to parade in front of these drunk guys in lingerie. Some were go-go dancers, others tended bar…but most of the people we talked to made it pretty clear that they were not from around here and they were there for the money. This had a pretty good sobering effect on us. Figuring we’d just seen a bad batch of Sturgis we decided to stay another night, see the black hills during the day and spend the next evening bar hopping all over town to get the best sample of what Sturgis was all about. Our hopes ended up being dashed as all we saw was more of the same. The only additions to the night were seeing guys doing body shots off of the bartenders and me getting into the middle of some Hell’s Angels. Now Brendan and I both appreciate the beauty of the female form just as much as the next guy, but the sexism was just too palpable to brush away. It permeated everything we experienced and was it not for the groups of really great people we met…I think I would have an entirely poor opinion about the place. I still haven’t decided if getting physically removed from Hell’s Angels turf was funny or scary considering that someone was stabbed the very next night. All in all, huge thumbs down to Sturgis ‘08.

Not only did we get chiggered while camping the night after we left, we had our share of motorcycle scares as well. We ran into each other on the road trying to dodge two different things and both dropped our bikes….mine into a HUGE bike sized mud puddle. The next day was when Brendan met the deer on the way into Wyoming. Now I’ve never been one for too much karma and mojo talk, but this place was not kind to us.