What's the Definition of a Motorcycle Nomad?

Heading southbound I-25 into Cheyenne, WY

We meet a lot of people over the course of our travels, and each time we meet someone, the question that always comes up is, "Where are you from?"

Several months ago, we used to say, "San Diego". But it's now been 18 months since we moved out of our permanent digs in the downtown of California's oldest city, and it's becoming harder and harder to say that we're actually from somewhere.

"OK, so where did you originally start from?" is the question that people will follow up with.

I guess we always have to come from somewhere. But technically, I'm not really from San Diego. It's just where I spent a lot of time growing up, and where my last permanent residence was. I was actually born in Honolulu, HI.

With the exception of those few people who never ever left the town they were born in, is it correct to say that we're all travelers?

Is it correct to say that we're all transitory, following the job market and moving from one place to another? Isn't that really what nomads are, following the caribou herd?

We'd like to think that civilization is a place where you can live all throughout the year, where you never have to leave, where food, water, and other necessities of life are perpetually brought to you. But now, people relocate from city to city, state to state, country to country. It's like we're still nomads.

A motorcycle nomad, on the other hand, I think, requires that we use a motorcycle to move from place to place, even if you're moving once every few years. I guess if you've since moved from your town of birth, and a motorcycle is how you move around, then you're a motorcycle nomad.

But I still like to call myself a Californian, and I still like to call myself an American. It helps people figure me out faster if I attach geographic labels to myself. Quite often, traveling across the country on a motorcycle leaves me with little time to have conversations with people. So, it saves me a lot of trouble explaining my perspectives if I just tell them, "I'm from California".

Where you started from, however, doesn't seem to matter much anyway, the language of motorcycling is universal.

Sash and I are now in Longmont, CO, and will be here until September 3.

Photos below are from our ride from Wheatland, WY to Longmont...

Western Sky's Family Diner, in Wheatland, WY for breakfast	It was a rough morning and I was getting hungry	Omelette smothered in green chile sauce was amazing here
The guy behind Sash was a loud mouthed Mr. Know It All	Chugwater Chili has to be the best name for chili.	I-25 southbound through Wyoming
This is where Western Sky's Family Diner got its name	Long stretch of interstate through Wyoming	The Yamaha V-Star 650 has held up well thus far
Sweet Jeezus likes the view of the mountains	Sash wanted to get a photo of Johnson's Corner	Welcome to Colorful Colorado!

Wyoming Isn't Really All That Free

State Highway 59, southbound from Gillette, WY

Judging another another man's freedom in comparison to mine isn't something I'm known to do. As soon as you point a finger at someone as not being free, there's always going to be another finger pointed at you.

That being said, I like Wyoming.

I like its grassy hills, its miles of undeveloped land. I like its sunsets, its cloud formations, and the sound of a barking prairie dog against the wind in your ears. But folks in Wyoming don't take kindly to outsiders, particular those who bring in a sense of freedom and the guts to cut against the grain.

Freedom isn't something you find much of in Wyoming. Instead the word is conformity. Dress alike, look alike, think alike, act alike. Gossip is the number one pastime in the Cowboy State, because hiding underneath every Stetson is story waiting to come out.

But it's not to say that Wyoming is conservative. It's just that people here are private, very private.  Dare not ask or peek at what lies hidden behind the closet door, you may find yourself with a gun pointed to your head.

Sash and I were departing from our hotel in Gillette on our way south to Wheatland. And the only feasible way to get there is by State Highway 59, another testament to the fact that Wyoming wants everyone to conform.

But I was just fine by going that route. In fact, we had the wind at our backs, and sailing along at 80 MPH felt effortless. Just seeing the miles of open prairie made me feel free, in fact. It was like being in the middle of nowhere, where your demons can't reach you, where the ghosts of your past can't haunt you, and your conscience can finally take a break.

So we pulled into the town of Douglas, WY to look for a place to chow. Not wanting any of the national chains or fast food joints, I rode into downtown to find something different and original. I found The Depot, an Americana cafe converted from an old train station.

Sash walked in with her pink hair and the bushy fox tail hanging from her butt. Waitresses there did all they could to stop themselves from spitting in laughter. One by one, they walked around our table to look at her tail and pink hair. The fact that she rode a motorcycle was probably her saving grace, otherwise they probably couldn't figure out what hole she fit into.

But it was when they brought the cooking staff out to look at her as well, that really told us what Douglas, WY was all about.

Sash wasn't fazed. She had been through worse in her life. And this only proved that she was beyond the societal pressure to conform. I mean, we had seen it all from coast to coast, one state and city after another. When you can pass through so many different perspectives, and see how each are different, it's like being the one mouse walking above the maze instead of the dozens of others trying to navigate from within.

And that's the thing about Wyoming. Sure it's wide open and spacious, but too many people living in closets there.

Digging into all you can eat bacon at our hotel in Gillette	Sash keeps a package of beef sticks and cheese in her jacket	I keep a package of cracklins in my jacket
Highway 59 through Wyoming is vast with grassy hills	Sash with the Salvation Army sunglasses	Oil pumps can be found along Highway 59
The BNSF railroad runs along Highway 59 carrying coal	Sash at The Depot in Douglas, WY	The waitresses at The Depot gossiping about Sash.
Look out Asphalt Annie, there's a new mascot on board	Riding south along I-25 towards Wheatland	Sun starting to set over the Wyoming prairie

The Prairie Dogs of Devil's Tower Are Fat

My Honda ST1300 against Devil's Tower, WY

People are naturally curious and take delight in things they've only seen on television. By contrast, prairie dogs are competitive, cut throat, selfish, and couldn't give a rat's ass if hand that feeds them became infected with the Hanta Virus.

It's interesting that what took up much of people's time at Devil's Tower National Monument was not the tower itself, but these burrowing little varmints that seemingly run roughshod over the area. Cars and RVs clamored for parking space along the side of the road so that they could photograph them. Others slowed down to see what commotion was about.

According to an article published in the Casper Star Tribune, the prairie dog count at Devil's Tower had been 62 in 1989, but went up to 496 in 2011.

In the end, the $10.00 per car park admission boiled down to just this, photo hungry tourists, cheesy Doritos, and chemically induced prairie dogs.

Otherwise, the land surrounding Devil's Tower is a lot of agriculture, both hay and cattle. Locals in the nearby town of Hulett sit at their tables inside Ponderosa Cafe minding their business as bikers and RVers step inside fascinated with the country kitsch that decorates the walls.

"Oh look honey! It's one of those old rusted cowbells! I want one for our Harley room!"

Sash felt a connection to Ponderosa Cafe because her maiden name is Cartwright, and she often keeps an eye out for anything Bonanza.

"Do you get a lot of people asking about Bonanza?" she asked the waitress.

She shook her head, indicating that she hadn't.

"We were kinda joking if you've got Hop Sing back there in the kitchen." Sash added.

The waitress looked puzzled.

"You know, Bonanza? Little Joe? My maiden name is Cartwright, that's why I asked."

The waitress apparently had never heard of the television show. It just made us feel really old.

"It ought to be required study if you're going to work at a place named, "Ponderosa Cafe", Sash whispered to me.

Outside the cafe hung a Budweiser sign that said, "Welcome Bikers". It's a remnant of the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally, and is the same design that was displayed at thousands of establishments in a 100-mile radius of the Rally.

"Like I need a welcome bikers sign to make me feel safe about going inside", I said to Sash. "There's something disingenuous about it."

I'm sure next week will be going up another Budweiser sign that says, "Welcome Bicyclists", "Welcome WordPress Developers", or "Welcome Mary Kay Sales Associates".

And while on the subject of being disingenuous, just the name "Devil's Tower" is a sad commentary.  The original locals, the Plains Indians, called it, "Bear Lodge".  According to their folklore, a massive bear, with long sharp claws, tried to climb the tower and instead left scratch marks up and down its sides.

But it was an 1875 expedition led by Col. Richard Irving Dodge who misinterpreted the name to mean "Bad God's Tower", which then became Devil's Tower. In 2005, a group of American Indians led an effort to restore the name to "Bear Lodge National Monument", but was denied when locals worried the change would ruin their economic base.

As for the prairie dogs, Sash and I couldn't resist trying to photograph them too.  But we had the good fortune of better camera equipment, and didn't need to lure them with artery-clogging snack chips. I imagine since the last census count of 2011, their population is getting close to 1,000. I'm sure Prairie Dog Armageddon drawing nigh.

We stopped at a UPS Store to ship some stuff.	State highway 24 westbound from Aladdin, WY	Ponderosa Cafe in Hulett, WY
This sign at Ponderosa Cafe beckons us to enter	Sash checks her phone inside Ponderosa Cafe	The burgers are big and delicious at Ponderosa Cafe
Sash at Devil's Tower	Sash doing a better pose at Devil's Tower	Look at my stance, it says I own this joint!
This fat boy thought he was going to get Doritos from me	These signs are all over the place at Devil's Tower	Sash with Devil's Tower behind her
Sash and Devil's Tower in my rear view mirror	US-14 runs south along Keyhole Reservoir	The second straight day Sash wore her fox tail

Spearfish, SD: A Week to Catch Up

Sunset over Spearfish, SD

The biggest difference between Sturgis, SD and Spearfish, SD, at this time of year, is probably about 80 decibels.

The week we were in in our cabin at Sturgis RV Park, we could hear the concerts at The Buffalo Chip a mile away, pretty clearly.

So when our week in the cabin was up, Sash and I moved our stuff to a hotel room 20 miles away in Spearfish to finish out the rally and get caught up on our business.

"Do you hear that?" Sash said to me.

"What." I said.

"It's pure silence!" she said.

After a week of the rally, bikers in Spearfish were starting to thin out, leaving us with beautiful quiet. The day we checked into our room, we stayed in the room the entire day. We napped for a few hours and then tried to tackle the backlog of work. I was still trying to get over a cough, and the meds had my ass kicked.

Otherwise, much of the week here in Spearfish was mostly all work. Nothing spectacular to report.

We did, however, spend a couple of evenings at Stadium Sports Grill, which we discovered was the popular hang out in town. You can order a plate of Macho Nachos, the size of a 25 pound roasted turkey, for $23.00, and if you finish it off by yourself, you get the nachos for free and a t-shirt.

Sash seriously considered it.  But in the end, she only attempted a half-order, and after she polished it off, realized she probably could have defeated the full order.

We also had the pleasure of being visited by motorcycle drag racer Andie Gaskins. Sash had met her last May at the Steel Horse Sisterhood Summit. Andie and her main man live in Gillette, WY, about a 90 minute drive from Spearfish, and came out just to hang with us. Interestingly, when we leave Spearfish, we'll be staying the night in Gillette, so we'll probably see them again.

Oh, and we did spend a day just riding. We took off for Mount Rushmore, Hill City, Iron Mountain Road, and followed up at Independent Ale House in Rapid City.

Otherwise, Spearfish is a quiet little town.  It's a college town, actually, though it's still Summer vacation.  People seem friendly, and no one seems to want any trouble.

Today we check out of our hotel, and head to Devil's Tower, and overnight in Gillette.

I-90 heading west towards Spearfish, SD	It rained hard one day at our hotel in Spearfish	Sash with motorcycle drag racer Andie Gaskins
Sash outside of Stadium Sports Grill, Spearfish, SD	Vespa Stephanie drew this caricature of Sash and I	Sash bought clothes from a Salvation Army in Spearfish
The stuff we bought to replace what was stolen in Sturgis	The chinese buffet by our hotel was not that great	Sash working in our hotel room
Sash and her half-order of Macho Nachos	This guy ate the full order of Macho Nachos	Our bikes parked at Walgreens
This Tantanka sign sits near the Deadwood Convention Center	Me riding along US-85 into Deadwood	Me and Sash riding US-385 towards Hill City, SD
Me riding hands-free along US-385	Sash riding past Pactola Reservoir, along US-385	Bumping Buffalo Brew at the saloon of the same name
Me at Bumpin Buffalo Saloon, Hill City, SD	Bikes parked outside Mangy Moose Saloon, Hill City, SD	Sash bought this fox tail and attached it to her butt
Riding SD-244 into Mount Rushmore	Sash and I posing in front of Mount Rushmore	Parked along Iron Mountain Road
Parked along Iron Mountain Road	Sash's fox tail sticks up when riding	Parked in downtown Rapid City, SD
Sash and bike in downtown Rapid City, SD	Having a beer at Independent Ale House, Rapid City, SD	Sash bought this hat and fox stole in Rapid City
Sash and I at Independent Ale House	The pizza we ate at Independent Ale House	Me taking a photo of a sunset in Spearfish