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News Letter: Rally
in the Rockies
Alright motorcycle enthusiasts, once again W.I.R.E. assembled for a Labor
Day weekend ride to the Four Corners area ( approximately 400 miles south
of Rock Springs). After some debate, we decided to spend Wednesday night
in Vernal, Utah . All of the members gathered at Cruel Jack’s at 4:30 p.m.
The road to Vernal is a winding ride through the forest on US 191 south –
over an 8000 ft pass and some great switch-backs into Vernal. We stayed at
a place that our Security Officer got us a great deal on. After unloading,
we headed out to the only brewpub in Vernal for dinner and some beers. We
met two of Rich and Martin’s cohorts, Eric and Dave. We had some good food
and great conversation. Then it was time for rest and dreams of Peter
Fonda and Dennis Hopper making their fateful ride. Rich dreams about Texas
Choppers and Mark dreams about being good lookin’.
We arose Thursday morning to a beautiful day and headed southeast on US 40
to Rangeley Colorado for breakfast. From there we headed out on the
Stegosaurus Freeway to CO-139 for Grand Junction. The journey over Douglas
Pass was breath taking. I was really getting into the winding road and
leaning my Road King over so that the footboards were scraping on the
asphalt. (I forgot to mention that before we began this trek I had taken
the baffles out of my bike and she was very loud and responsive). We
continued south on CO-139 to Loma Co. where we fueled up our bikes and
replenished some electrolytes in our bodies. We decided to head into Grand
Junction and look at the new Harley Davidson dealership (they also sold
Iron Horse?). Mark and I got to see an old acquaintance there that we had
worked for. We had both heard he had passed away and Mark asked if he was
there and I’ll be God damned if he wasn’t. After shooting the shit with
him we headed out on I-70 to US-50 east through Delta and Montrose where
we caught US-550. This turned out to be probably the most scenic route
that I have ridden all summer. Even with a slight drizzle and cooler
temperatures (because of the elevation) it was unbelievable. Stopping in
Silverton, we shared some Irish coffees and some hot food to warm our
bodies and souls. The rain subsided and we migrated south through Hermosa
to Durango. Naturally, once we got into town, Rich and I were separated
from the group. So we hunted down the condo, and looked at some of the
sights in Durango while we were downtown. We arrived at the condo and were
pleasantly surprised that the condo we had rented was quite nice and had
air conditioning. After unpacking, we decided to head to Ignacio to pick
up our packets for the rally and see what was happening. I had looked at a
flyer before leaving, and chose a route that turned out to be
questionable. Not having faith in me or my directions after riding for
what seemed to be quite a while we flagged down a fellow enthusiast and
asked where the rally was, and it turned out that we were only about a
mile from Ignacio. When we arrived in town we could see where we were
supposed to be but could not quite find our way. Our Vice President asked
a local how to get there, and she evidently said follow me. So the next
thing I know we are following a little red truck through town. We made a
few turns through town and the lady in the truck pointed out her window
for us to turn right and that would take us into the rally. But it turned
out to be a big dead end; we could see where we supposed to be and started
laughing at our good fortune with direction that night. Finally we found
our way into the rally to get our packets and check some things out. Soon
it was getting dark and we headed back to our condo, on the more traveled
and easier route. That night Mark and Beverly volunteered to sleep on the
sofa pullout, which turned out to be very uncomfortable. After an hour of
jocularity between us and laughing so hard that I was crying I finally got
to sleep, only to be awakened by my brother’s snoring. It was so loud that
he didn’t even hear me yelling at him to stop. I had to smack him with my
pillow to get him to stop, which he did, only for a short time, I heard
some more snoring and hollered at Rich to cease the buzz saw to which he
replied, “ That is not me Dude”, it was coming from down stairs where Mark
and Beverly were sleeping. Not being sure which one of them it was, I over
heard Beverly say, “ Marky quit your snoring”. She must have grabbed his
nose or punched him because it quit. Poor Marky didn’t get a very good
nights rest. I can sympathize with him on that.
Friday we arose early to start a new day. Marky looked like hell after not
getting his beauty sleep, and I was a little tired myself from the ring
side seat at the World Championship of Snoring Tournament. Anyway, we went
downtown for a cup of coffee, and some food. After filling ourselves, we
headed out for a poker run to Farmington, NM. We picked our first card in
Ignacio, then headed out south through some pretty boring riding
conditions, but I just love to ride. I headed out to the next poker stop,
when I realized no one was riding with me, and I wasn’t speeding. So I
waited up for someone to show up. My little Bro finally shows his riding
skill and hung with me through ride to Farmington. Once in Farmington, we
filled our bellies with free food at the New Harley Dealership. We checked
out the dealership, purchased some shirts, and checked out the live music.
We decided that since we were so close to Mesa Verde, we would head there
to see some ruins. I love this kind of “fly by the seat of your pants”
thinking and am always up for anything - so we fueled our horses and took
off. Once again, Lil Bro and I were riding alone to the destination. No
one wanted to keep up… We were met in Durango with some dark clouds and
then some heavy rains. We stopped to suit up for the weather and see if
anyone was coming to join us to Mesa Verde. We decided that the others
must have went back to the condo to stay dry. So we took off for Mesa
Verde. The rain stopped quickly and we enjoyed our journey into the land
of the ruins. It was a great ride with a lot of corners and ups and downs.
Mesa Verde, Spanish for "green table", offers an unparalleled opportunity
to see and experience a unique cultural and physical landscape. The
culture represented at Mesa Verde reflects more than 700 years of history.
From approximately A.D. 600 through A.D. 1300 people lived and flourished
in communities throughout the area, eventually building elaborate stone
villages in the sheltered alcoves of the canyon walls. Today most people
call these sheltered villages "cliff dwellings". The cliff dwellings
represent the last 75 to 100 years of occupation at Mesa Verde. In the
late 1200s within the span of one or two generations, they left their
homes and moved away. We chose to venture into Cliff Palace (Mesa Verde's
Largest Cliff Dwelling), and lucked out catching a tour that was just
leaving. While we were on our tour, we hear the my mating call…”El Mooche.”
It was the rest of our clan and they had found there way to the exact spot
we were. How bizarre and surreal that was for us to see and hear them,
especially after we were sure they weren’t coming. Anyway we regrouped,
and rode out of the ancient land. On the way out, I really tested my Road
King. The cornering and handling was unprecedented as I went balls out all
the way back to US-160, where we gathered up for a chilly ride back to the
condo in the dark. When Rich pulled up and found that his secondary belt
was making some noise, we checked it out and opted to ride it in. It was
great to once again ride from early morning to dark in the saddle, with a
great bunch of friends. At the condo, Martin (the Security Officer)
treated us to Pizza and beer (Thanks Martin!!!!) and Julie brought along
“Stone Cold” a biker movie that Rich had never seen. It was great! Then it
was off to try and sleep through gauntlet of snoring and farting,
unbelievable.
Saturday, we rose early and went to the Durango Harley shop to get a
diagnosis on Rich’s sick horse. The service rep said it was only a rock
caught in the belt and nothing to worry about. Then we headed to find a
breakfast spot. While we were enjoying breakfast, it started to rain – and
I mean rain. We chose to hang around town until the moisture stopped. It
rained most of the morning and about lunchtime we went back to Ignacio to
check out the events at the rally and watch the people. I ran into one
person from Rock Springs, only one Rock Springer all weekend.
Our Security Officer, Martin, almost purchased a Bourget bike. I actually
saw drool coming from his mouth. The Bourget bikes are awesome. Julie sold
not one but two of her Jacket Chaps right off of her back, I need to
purchase some stock in this company because it might explode in the near
future. We mounted up and rode back to Durango to a Mexican joint for
dinner and to see what was happening downtown. After that we went back to
the condo to chose a route back to Rock Springs. I would have liked to
ride through Monument Valley and up to Moab to spend the night, but
everyone else felt that was too much and opted for the shorter route into
Moab, and being a selfish person, I bitched and whined to no avail.
Sunday morning came and we headed to Cortez for breakfast. Then we had a
little trouble finding the right road to Monticello, Utah where we would
pick up US-191 to Moab. At Moab we went into Arches National Park. Arches
National Park preserves over two thousand natural sandstone arches,
including the world-famous Delicate Arch, in addition to a variety of
unique geological resources and formations. In some areas, faulting has
exposed millions of years of geologic history. A striking environment of
contrasting colors, landforms and textures highlights the extraordinary
features of the park, including balanced rocks, fins and pinnacles. From
there we went back into Moab for lunch and fuel. Martin finally took my
Road King for a putt. We headed out to Dead Horse Point. Martin seemed to
enjoy riding my King as he exclaimed, “ I love this thing” at the first
junction. Dead Horse Point is one of Utah's most spectacular state parks.
Towering 2,000 feet above the Colorado River, the park provides a
breathtaking panorama of Canyonlands' sculptured pinnacles and buttes.
Rich included us in his ritual – laying prone on the cliffs edge and
hanging your head over the 1500-foot high edge. Martin and Beverly would
have no part of that ritual. From there we rode to Price on US-6, and the
north on US-191 through Ashley Natl. Forest to Duchesne. Resting a bit
there, we headed out to Vernal where Martin and Julie, Mark and Beverly
would chose to stay the evening. I will admit it had been a long day of
riding, 7:30 a.m. to 8 p.m. all day in the saddle. But Rich and I were
itching for a night ride and it was a beautiful evening. So we fueled up
and headed out to enjoy an evening ride home. We cruised on US-191 north
until we were about 25 miles from home and could see the lights of the
city, when we stopped to chat and look at the grandeur of the Milky Way,
Mars and the stars. They we indescribable, as we warmed up and thought
about the last three days of riding culminating that night. We rode to
I-80 and then into town where we bid our farewells at the exit, a raised
hand in pride that my brother and I had done this night ride, and a look
of sorrow at its cessation, we rode off into our lives. The rest of
W.I.R.E. would dine in Vernal and slumber, and then rise to a safe ride
back into their worlds.
Next we are headed to Las Vegas bike week, and I am really looking forward
to this, as it will likely be the last run of the summer. But I am
saddened that all of our club won’t be there.
Mark is working on his hotrod, Martin is still hunting down a Bourget bike
and selling his Softail Custom, Julie is diving deep into marketing and
distribution of her Jacket Chaps, Rich is wandering aimlessly as usual and
Beverly is busy ironing Mark’s boxers. (That’s a joke, Bev-er-lie!
Bev-er-lie! With a booger in her eye!)
We are having a WIRE barbeque on Tuesday, September 9th, at the Security
Officers estate. If anyone is interested, shoot me an email for directions
and a parking permit.
The Prez
prez@thinkharley.com
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Newsletter: Sturgis
On Tuesday August 5, 2003 at 8:30 am, the W.I.R.E. chapter from Rock
Springs left from the Outlaw Inn for Gillette. We were accompanied by the
Rocket City Cycle crew, Greg, Collin and Dave. Greg’s wife Donnie followed
(in the chase vehicle) with everything needed to make their stay in
Sturgis comfortable. The W.I.R.E. gang lost the R.C.C. gang early because
Dave’s old shovelhead just wouldn’t haul his ass at 75 –80 mph. So they
loaded it up on the trailer to make up time. They caught us in Riverton
just as we were finishing our breakfast. From there we headed out to
Thermopolis and Worland without any trouble, just a few complaints from
Dave and his ass being sore. We encountered some road construction on Ten
Sleep Pass and one of our riders had an unfortunate incident with some
fresh rock chip and the pavement, but she came through like a champion, if
it would have happened to me I would have cried like a little girl and
probably turned around and went home full of shame and embarrassment. The R.C.C. crew separated from us in Worland and we headed off to Gillette. In
Gillette we ate a good dinner and relaxed for a good nights rest, little
did I know it would be my last night of sleep for the next four nights.
Wednesday we rose early with enthusiasm and rode to
Devils Tower to take
in the awesome volcanic structure and buy some shirts. Then we headed to
Hulett. Timing this ride was critical, because
Hulett is a town of some 500
people, and on Wednesday, it ballooned to 150,000 riders. We ran into a
lady we had met in Jackson earlier this summer – she approached us saying
“Hey, it's the ‘mosey-ers’!” – referring to some of the WIRE members who
traditionally “mosey” into the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar in Jackson Hole,
WY. It was pretty strange that she would remember us. We also ran into
Martin and Julie amongst the plethora of bikers in Hulett. We got to admire
their new tattoos. Hutlett was crazy! No panty Wednesday! Yea Haw! Over
lunch we discussed our trip to Spearfish where we were staying and thank
God I was paying attention because somehow I got left in Hulett when
everyone decided to leave. After some cursing, I made my way to Spearfish,
luckily running into everyone a few miles down the highway. We tooled down
I-90 to Spearfish and I was in daze leading the pack when the next sign I
see is an exit to Deadwood. Having been up there before I kinda knew we
went to far and Rich and I turned around and found the dorms at Black
Hills State with little difficulty. We checked into our second floor dorm
room to find it hot and balmy even with a fan running in the room. So we
unpacked and rode to the insanity in Sturgis for the evening. After
goofing around in Sturgis, we headed to the room to rest up for Thursday.
When we arrived at the room the heat was almost unbearable. And with the
fan running it was like sleeping along side of a turbine generator with
the constant “whrrrrr” and sweating all night. Finally I fell asleep about
five in the morning only to have to get up an hour later. It would be like
this until I slept in my own bed on Sunday.
Thursday came without much rest prior to riding Spearfish Canyon and to
visit some friends who have a home in Lead. After lunch we went back into
Sturgis and were lucky enough to get to see the Orange County Choppers
owners, Pauly and Paul Sr. After the customary autographs and pictures we
wondered around Bourget’s bikes and Iron Horse choppers ( my little Bro
really wants the Texas Chopper – I think he’s planning a robbery to pay
for it – lock your doors!) We also got to see
Indian Larry and his bikes
at the Roadhouse, I like the old school things he does to his creations.
But when I went to talk to him I could not form a complete sentence and
must have sounded like an idiot. “I are nice bike there like…”. Geeze! We
proceeded to Rapid City to the Community Center to check out the 2004
bikes and ask some questions about “high speed dumping” to the Harley
Reps. We then went to Rapid City H.D. to check out the vendors and got
stuck riding in a downpour of rain. Then it was time to go back to the
Marquis de Sade wing at Black Hills State.
Waking up Friday wasn’t hard because I never really got to sleep. So we
headed out to ride to one of the nations coolest monuments, Mount
Rushmore. We met Martin and Julie in Hill City. It was great to make the
ride with all of us together. Martin and Julie were showing off their new
half- helmets and Martin was wearing a
Jacket Chap!
They're
not for women only. And it accents his figure quite nicely! The best part
about riding to Mt. Rushmore is the Needles Highway and Iron Mountain
road. This is truly a unique ride with scenic views and unparalleled
riding, which I thoroughly enjoyed, even though it rained on us a little.
We decided to ride into Keystone for lunch and after cruising down the
drag, I hear this yell from one of the balconies that overlook the main
street. W.I.R.E.!!! It was none other than Tommy from our Cheyenne
chapter. We should have stopped right there and not been in such a hurry
to eat lunch, so after lunch we went back to the sight of the scream but
could not find our brothers from Cheyenne. I want to apologize to them for
not stopping right then so we could get together, it was my fault for
missing you, and I want to say that I hope all went well with your trip to
Bikerland. We did come back to look for you guys, to drink a beer together
and shoot the shit but couldn’t find you anywhere.
I got separated (again) from the group as we were leaving Keystone. I
headed toward Deadwood and ran into some friends from Rock Springs. They
said that they had just talked to the rest of my group so I cruised the
main street in Deadwood and sure enough I found my buddies walking down
the street in Deadwood. We hung out there for a while and then headed back
to Casa de Blast Furnace at Black Hills State where we enjoyed hearing the
“all clear” tornado-warning siren at 4:30 am. Didn’t really bother me
because I was not sleeping anyway.
Saturday we had planned to stay in Sturgis the whole day and take in the
sights and scenery (if you catch my drift) at the Broken Spoke and the
Full Throttle saloons. I ran into some friends from from RS, got a new
tattoo, grabbed a 20 minute nap at the Sturgis City Hall, watched to
temperature indication sign at the bank hit 107, got included in the
official Sturgis Main Street Photo and generally had a blast that day,
even though I had been up for like four days without any sleep.
Sunday we planned to rise and leave early on a route that the R.C.C. guys
had taken home a day earlier (trying to miss the road construction). The
ride home was generally uneventful except for my bike puking up some oil
about sixty miles from home. All in all I think everyone had a good time…
except when my little Bro looks up and says I think I lost my wallet. We
were on the main thoroughfare in Sturgis and seeing the desperation and
fear in his eyes as we made our way back to the bikes to see if he had
simply forgot it, which he had, I know that sick feeling you get from
loosing something, mainly a woman in my case, and did not envy him at all
that day. But it all ended well with a good nights rest in my own bed, and
some good memories. I really do enjoy riding and hanging with these
people. Life just doesn’t get better than this, unless one of the Swedish
Bikini Team were to call me and ask for a ride, who would have thought?
Our next ride is to the Rally in the Rockies down in the four-corner area
of Colorado on Labor Day weekend. If anyone is interested in going shoot
me an email I have a room available and we have space in the condo we are
staying at. BURN RUBBER NOT YOUR SOUL….
The Prez
prez@thinkharley.com
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After a bitchin’ ride to the Wyoming State H.O.G. rally, I thought I would
give a few updates on the trip and some of our future plans. The ride up
to Cody was spectacular. We went up through Jackson Hole and into
Yellowstone National Park. Riding up and then down Sylvan Pass to the east
gate was gorgeous. We sauntered into Cody, found our rooms after some
frightening problems with our reservations, unpacked our horses and
readied for supper.
I have found that traveling in packs can some times be
trouble when a trying to choose a restaurant, but not with this bunch. We
had a good dinner, and then some drinks…. Later we went to an open-air bar
to cap the wonderful day we all had just experienced. One tequila lead to
another and pretty soon I was staggering back to the room for a good night
sleep, in the bathtub. That night we met and befriended three outstanding
guys from Cheyenne, and the next thing I know they are calling themselves
“PROSPECT” and want to join W.I.R.E. And now we have the makings of a
chapter in Cheyenne. I want to welcome
Tommy, Ed and Randy. The next day
was kind of a "nurse yourself back to life" day of shopping and cleaning
bikes… thank god. Saturday we rode to Red Lodge, Montana on the
Chief Joseph Highway,
it was an unbelievable ride; words cannot describe the vast beauty,
majestic mountain panoramas and the
barbeque at the Red Lodge Harley
dealership.
After participating in a poker run and drawing some pretty
pathetic cards we all went to The Irma hotel for dinner. We had heard of a
prime rib buffet and wanted to check into it. One of our founding members
went back three or four times for prime rib, the most meat I have seen
eaten outside of a porn flick. During dinner a woman sitting behind us
tapped my brother on the shoulder and said she thought the woman at an
adjacent table was chocking. I looked over and she was blue with a napkin
up to her mouth. My little bro jumped up and at first grabbed her under
her arms to get her on her feet to administer the Heimlich maneuver, after
a couple of tugs he got her breathing again. She was happy about that and
insisted on buying our table a round of drinks after commenting that all
longhair biker types aren’t bad. See, who knew?
Sunday morning we rallied
at breakfast and I must admit nobody wanted to go home. But we headed out
to Meeteesee and then to Thermopolis. We stopped for lunch in Lander and
checking my fuel situation in Lander, ½ of a tank I decided that I would
make it to Farson, but you guessed it I didn’t. So I win the dumbass award
to cap off a beautiful expedition, who cares I am the prez.
Our next major ride is to Sturgis, more coming
on this trip. We were going to go to Milwaukee for the hundredth, but I
think we changed our mind and are going to the
Rally in the Rockies
instead, sound like a better time and 3 million people in Milwaukee won’t
miss me. If you have any question or comments e-mail me at
prez@thinkharley.com and I will answer them.
The Prez
W.I.R.E.
News Las Vegas Sept 2003
On September 11th, Marky and I headed out for
Las Vegas Bike
Week. It was kind of cold that morning, so we loaded up the bikes in
Mark’s little trailer and headed southwest for warmer temperatures. We
found the perfect riding weather in Salt Lake City. Parking the trailer at
Park and Jet, we unloaded and road south into the land of silicon and
Joshua trees. The ride down was pretty uneventful, all interstate, and all
at about 80 plus miles per hour. Once we hit the Virgin River Canyon, Mark
had an unexpected lose of his helmet. I was riding behind him, enjoying
the scenery, a family of mountain sheep right off of the interstate and
some awesome canyons and arroyos, when I see Mark’s chrome helmet dancing
it’s way toward me on the highway at 80 mph. It took some skillful
maneuvering to miss that little shiny hat as it wa-tu-sied it’s way down
the asphalt. I lucked out and missed the little thing but the truck behind
me didn’t, and in my rearview mirror I saw it get spit out the back of the
truck and come to rest in the bar ditch. I slowed down and stopped to see
if I could retrieve it. Man it was in bad shape when I found it, a big
crack in the side and a bunch road rash made it look pretty beat up. I put
on my bike and took off to find Mark, but when I got to the Oasis in
Mesquite, he was nowhere to be found. He had turned around to see why I
had stopped not realizing he had lost anything, it turned out to be pretty
comical. We checked into our free room at the Oasis and went to the Casino
to check out some action. There we ate and sat down to watch the live band
in the casino. I met a cute little bar maid who looked to be about my
daughters age and after playing a few slot machines we decided to get some
rest, when this cute little bar maid comes back and strikes up a
conversation. She claimed to be 27 and had three kids. We simply couldn’t
believe it, when sure enough she saws, “ and this is my husband”…. So I
turned to see this 5 ft tall troll of a man approaching to shake my hand.
Sometimes life is so unfair. We said good night and went to the room for
some rest.
Waking up Friday morning was easy. Mark snores like a
freight train, and according to
him so do I? It is kind of funny, being a bachelor and living by myself,
you never think about staying in the same room with other individuals and
this summer I have spent more time sleeping with these W.I.R.E. idiots
than alone. Anyway, we rode the 80 miles into Las Vegas and I could not
believe my eyes when we crested the top of the valley and got our first
look at the size of the town, and the smog hovering over it. We found the
place where we registered and tried to make the poker run that morning.
When we arrived at the start we found out we had missed the deadline for
drawing your first card, so we went to find our hotel and check in. Not
having any luck there either, we ended up waiting until the afternoon to
be able to get into our room. So we took off to see the sights. Let me
tell you, Vegas is full of beautiful women. Everywhere you look. We ended
up at the Cashman center where the vendors were set up to pawn their cool
items and bike builders to show off their creations. Even God had some
very nice creations to show, although I am pretty sure that some had
surgical enhancements. Isn’t technology a wonderful thing!! We finally got
settled into our room and went down to Fremont St. to sight see. It is now
an enclosed street; with millions of lights that play a themed show every
half hour, pretty cool. We listened to the Blue Oyster Cult concert that
was happening at 3rd and Fremont, very cool, and I even got Marky to drink
a shot of Jack Daniels and relax a bit. After gorging ourselves on the
cheap shrimp cocktails, we headed up to the room for some sleep, only
after Mark had bought some earplugs. When we got to our room we could not
get in, after a couple of trips to the front desk, we finally got the
electronic key to work and drifted off to slumber land, only to be
awakened by the most obnoxious fire alarm I have ever heard. Fifteen
minutes later, someone reset the alarm and we tried to fall back asleep.
It was tough trying to get back to sleep for me, worrying about if the
alarm was real or not, trying to smell smoke and keep my senses sharp to
save myself from pending doom. Mark did not have any trouble; he was
snoring away like nothing happened.
Wanting to get an early start, we rose early on my birthday and took off
to ride in the $10000.00 poker run being held that day. It was a nice ride
and I enjoyed the morning. But my scooter started to make some
funky noises, and not wanting to
see my baby break down, I stopped off at Las Vegas Harley Davidson. There
the Service Manager greeted me and took my bike for a ride and even put it
up on a lift and checked everything out for me. It was the way you are
supposed to be treated by a H. D. shop. Not finding anything, he brought
my bike out and I thanked for his attempt. I decided that I would just
ride and not worry about the bike. If it dies it dies. We finished of the
poker run and went back to the vendor area for more sight seeing. The wet
t-shirt contest got canceled for some reason, why?, why?, so we ended up
watching the Miss Las Vegas Bike Week contest. Later that night we had
some more fun screwing around on Fremont St. and enjoying the sights.
Rising early Sunday morning, we were both ready to head home. Leaving Las
Vegas at about 7:30 a.m., we ended up in Salt Lake at 2:30 p.m. A very
quick trip considering we stopped in St. George and had breakfast. But
Marky wasn’t afraid to ride fast and I enjoyed not being passed on I-15
all day.
I hope to get in at least one more trip somewhere before winter closes the
door on me for 2003, and with Mark’s trailer it is very possible. Sorry,
but we did not have the staff photographer with us on this trip. I am a
firm believer in what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas; so not photographic
evidence from there is a good thing. I am here to answer any question, if
any body is reading this drivel that I am attempting to put out…BURN
RUBBER NOT YOUR SOUL….
The Prez
prez@thinkharley.com
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