Doing the Loop Part 4

I apologize for no pictures in this post.  I am not a great photographer and my cell phone camera takes less than wonderful pictures.  Sometimes I should be snapping away and I just space doing it.  The unfortunate part of biking is that it is very difficult to take pictures while trying to steer your bike, it hazardous really.  So, you get a lot of pictures of gas stations.  They don't really tell the story but its what I've got.  For some reason on this part of our trip I totally forgot to get my camera out.

We arrive back at the Grizzly Bear.  Having not had a shower yet, I get in and let the warm water do its magic.  I feel great.

More members of the Harley Owners Group (HOG) continue to arrive.  There are Ultra Glides, Heritage Soft Tails, Wide Glides, Street Glides,  a single V-Rod, fancy, basic, new, old, custom paint, factory colors.  I like it.  I wander around looking at all the different ways people ride on long trips.  I think to myself, "I need to visit the Harley Store again."  

Most of these people obviously know each other already.  I am neither a HOG or a Black Sheep so I am sort of an outsider.  I am somewhat surprised that no one tries to evangelize me into joining their group, yet I think about doing so anyway.  I sit observing and listening to the conversations.  Everyone is in a great mood.  I have small conversations with several.  I am amazed at the doors a Harley Davidson will open.  Here I am, an ordained Assembly of God preacher in the middle of a biker rally.  I don't mention this of course as it will appear as if I suddenly have a contagious disease.  As it is, I am just a part of the crowd which is fine with me.  We'll see if any doors open to share Jesus. 

Everyone is anxious to see if the pig is "done."  They haul it out and begin to carve it up.  They pull the head off and parade it around.  It reminds me of the "Lord of the Flies" but I quickly try to forget that thought.  Conversations get animated and loud as people anticipate dinner.  Men pull out thick cigars and the blue smoke swirls around in the breeze.  A little alcohol begins to show up and I hope things don't get out of hand.  

A line begins to form of people with paper plates in their hands.  I decide I will join them.  Someone shouts for the president of the Black Sheep to pray over the feast.  Awkward silence allows the man to offer thanks.  The feast is on. There are desserts, chips, some great bbq beans and the pig.  I look at the pig close for the first time.  He looks sort of small for what I estimate to be around 70 bikers.  I don't take as much as I feel like taking.  I grab a can of Pepsi and sit down.  Before long a short bundle of personality sits next to me.  She is the legendary "Peppermint Patti" of HOG fame.  Patti looks like a "65-ish" grandmother who wouldn't top 5' 1".  She has short spiky white hair and hawkish blue eyes.  She looks a lot like the boss lady in the Pierce Brosnan "007 James Bond" series. She is a hoot to talk to.  Feisty.  Every other person who walks by asks the same question, "how many miles have you logged, Patti?"  She nonchalantly answers, "500,000".  

Let me explain.  Miles are a big deal to bikers.  Such a big deal that there is a HOG website that you can begin to log and verify how many miles you ride in a given year.  Some people have 20,000, some 12,000.  Bragging goes along the lines of how many back tires you can wear out in a season.  But it is really all about the miles.  These are documented miles mind you, not just round numbers and guesstimations.  500,000 documented miles is amazing. 

Patti shrugs and says to me, "I don't drink, I don't smoke, I don't have any kids and I don't have a husband (she does have a "significant person" I am informed later) so what am I going to do with my money?"  Apparently she has some of that.  I have several suggestion for her in my mind having to do with missions projects but I let her talk.  She gets a new Ultra Glide every other year, the one on this trip is bright yellow with black pinstripes named "the Bumblebee".  It is one of the biggest bikes I have ever seen.  How does she ride this?  She tells me she owns way too many Harley Davidson leather jackets, only two does she wear riding, the others?  Just for going out to special occasions.  

I have finished my plate and notice there is still quite a bit of pig left.  I get up and take a little more.  It isn't amazing, but still fairly good especially smothered in Sweet Baby Ray's bbq sauce.  I was hoping for fall apart goodness but this is still kind of firm but looks fully cooked.  Someone else has taken my seat so I sit at another table.  A very tall lady, close to 6' with a bottle of Jack Daniels whisky in her hand sits down.  She isn't the bundle of personality Patti is, but she is apparently Patti's favorite ridding buddy.  She has a few hundred thousand miles to her credit.  Apparently they will take off on a long trip at the drop of a hat, no other interests for them but riding their Harley Davidsons.  They make a real Mutt and Jeff pair.  

I like the exposure to a group of really nice people I would normally not have any access to before owning a Harley Davidson.  I think of how lonely some of these people must be when they are not on a ride like this.  You feel that some of these folks live for this.  The riding is the mechanism for the belonging.  

Some begin to drift off to their rooms.  Since not sleeping well the night before, I am feeling the sag and am also thinking about calling it a day.  There is no bad behavior or loud voices.  No one appears drunk as I feared earlier.  As the sun goes down, it is genuinely chill and I feel marginal.  I decide that the room is a good place to be.  I leave the group and go to the room to organize my stuff for the next day and go to bed.  I go to the sliding glass door and walk out on the balcony.  The river below is rushing madly down the grade and makes a great sleeping aide.  I notice the sky is turning grey.  Who knows?

I turn in to go to sleep for the night.