$100 Rooms For Rent... Each Couple Please.

We sat in the corner of the crowded little bar in Daniel, slowly enjoying our hard earned beer while we talked over the events of the mud-bog, the bentanite farting bike, the rain, the newly acquired bruises, and the caution in which we seemed to be employing during the trip to Daniel. We talked about the angels that must be following us, the road gremlins that kept trying to get us and how it all started with a bad intake, flat tire and a dead guy on the highway.

Nearly a thousand miles under our leathers in the past few days. It felt more like a million.

The beer went down smooth, the conversation was cathartic for all of us. The rain had slowed back to a mist so we paid our tab, left our tip and headed to Bonduraunt.

The road to Bonduraunt was slow going. The group was still a bit skiddish from the earlier events. The drivers might have pushed it harder had we been riding solo but we all knew that our passengers would have none of that at this point. The sun sets quickly when you're riding in the valley's of the Rocky Mountain range and before we knew it we were riding in to the night. The worries had gone from mud to animals. Deep in the mountain ranges miles from anyplace larger than a ranch house the game was sure to be running free and wild. Our pace reflected our concern over the possibilities of wandering deer and antelope, slow but sure. As the sun set the temperatures dropped quickly adding to our riding pleasure - damp clothes and leathers, cold temperatures and a self generated 55 mph wind.

We pulled in to Bonduraunt, not much more than a small vacation spot on the highway with a general store, a bait shop and some fly-fishing cabins. It must have been near 10:30--I don't remember exactly, and didn't write it in my journal, but I do know it was late enough that we pulled in to the fishing cabins to see what the price of a room would be for the night. The shop keep was just getting ready to close for the day when we walked in, tired, hungry and just wanting a place to crash.

We checked on availability and found there were two cabins available that would sleep all of us for about a hundred dollars a couple. I'm not certain, and I didn't care at the time, but I think that the room rates increased two fold when we walked through the office door. We agreed to the rate, got our cabin keys, unloaded and then went back to the office to grab something to eat. The sign out front said Snacks, Beer & Bait--we assumed that there would be something we could build a sandwich from, or microwave or... nope, nothing, nada. So we asked the shop keeper if there was a place around that may still be open for a meal. The closest place was about 25 miles on the north end of Bonduraunt Canyon, but if we were lucky...

Obviously This Guy Hasn't Read Our Story...

The General Store might still be open and they had pizza and a microwave.


Bonduraunt, Bonduraunt Wyoming, Cabins, Motorcycles, Bikers, Motorcycle Travel

We've Heard There's A Bar In Daniel...

We pushed the bikes a bit farther to where the Bentanite ended and the pavement began again, resting for a moment and still shaking our heads. Deciding we were once again ready to push forward--Daniel, Bonderaunt and then Jackson for the night--knowing that we were, as seems to be the theme, behind schedule and needing to make up time. Mike was lead bike, ready to roll; he drops the gear in to neutral, and hits the starter, there's an odd sound coming from the bike as his Road King tries to turn over. You can almost hear the pressure building just prior to the bang and splat of bentanite being shot from his exhaust pipes to the pavement. We all hoped that this was his bikes way of spitting out the bad shit it had just gone through and getting on to the good.

Ready and started we roll towards Daniel, curve after curve, running the foothills of western Wyoming. The passing country side is beautiful; lush green meadows, rolling tree filled hills, the mountains in the distance. All viewed through a fine mist just so mother nature could remind us who was in charge of this ride. As the miles passed I noticed our push to make up time was being taken at a more cautious pace. The 75 mph or more that we'd pushed in the past now hovered near a leisurely 55 mph.

Soon enough we saw the signs for Daniel. Entrances to small towns on back roads are hardly ever marked by mile count down signs you'll see on the interstates. The sure sign that life is approaching is the reduction in speed sign. First the notice - reduce speed ahead, then the 55 mph, 45 mph and finally the town... 25 - 35 mph. Daniel was 25 mph through the center of town. A pace just fast enough to carry you through but slow enough to stop and patronize a local pub should you so desire. We so desired.

Daniel, Wyoming is a small ranching community - a blink and you'll miss it marker along the western Wyoming highways. On this day Daniel was our haven from the storms both figurative and literally. We rolled in and spotted the only bar in town. Slowing our motorcycles to a near stop we pulled up across the street from the bar (right in front of the purple trees) parked and scrapped our road worn, muddied bodies from our saddles. We were a motley looking bunch. Stained with mud, wet from the rain, weathered and leathered. We walked up and pulled open the weather worn old screen door, it made the creaking sound you would expect from a door in it's condition, and walked in to the dimly lit smokey room.

I'm sure the ranchers and locals all were wondering what the cat had just dug up but my wonderment was only a passing thought, Beers all around please, it's been a long hard day and we're only half way there.

Daniel Wyoming, Daniel, Wyoming, Hwy 189, Motorcycles, Bikers, Motorcycle Travel

Motorcycles in the Movies

Okay, just to let you know--I have not gotten lazy... There has been a boat load of crap happening in my life and Christmas is right around the corner... so unfortunately I haven't had the time to put together a quality post for your enjoyment in a while. So while I continue to wade my way through everything... including shopping (blaaaa...) ... I was able to find an article that I enjoyed and thought I'd share - I did put in some links to the Internet Movie Data Base so you can check out some of the titles.

I promise, I am working on the next chapter in the '99 Sturgis Story.

Thanks for reading & as always,

Peace & ride safe.
White Line

Motorcycles in the Movies by Alan Liptrot

When Bud Ekins took the place of Steve McQueen, to jump the wire fence in the film ‘The Great Escape’, he arguably created the most famous motorcycle movie scene of all time, but you will notice that I used the word ‘arguably’, because there are other movies that run this one close. The Great Escape wasn’t a film about motorcycles; it just happened to have the scene that everyone remembers. Interestingly, although McQueen didn’t perform that stunt, it was his idea to include that scene. Both Ekins and McQueen were avid motorcyclists.

In 1969, Dennis Hopper directed and starred alongside Peter Fonda in a film that reverberated far beyond the Movie Theatre. ‘Easy Rider’ was the story of two disillusioned youths who, after collecting the funds from a dope sale in Southern California, set off on a trip across America. The Hydraglides in the film, which were built between 1949 and 1952, were bought at auction for 500 US Dollars, but chopper builders Cliff Vaughs and Ben Hardy transformed the bikes, each one having a back-up to ensure the cameras kept rolling. One of the bikes was wrecked in the final scene while the others were stolen before the significance of movie props was realised. The final campfire scene still had to be shot, hence the absence of the motorcycles, whereas in the previous campfire scenes, the bikes are clearly visible. The wrecked ‘Captain America’ was rebuilt and by Dan Haggerty and became a museum exhibit until it was sold in 2001.

Walter Salles directed ‘The Motorcycle Diaries’ which was released in the USA in 2004. This is the true story of Ernesto Che Guevara who in 1952, before completing his medical degree, sets out with his biochemist friend Alberto, to travel across South America on an old Norton 500. La Poderosa (The Mighty or Powerful one), as the bike is fondly, but erroneously named, is asked to take them over the Andes, along the Chilean coast, across the Atacama desert, through the Peruvian Amazon and arrive in Venezuela in just a few months, in time to celebrate Alberto’s birthday on April 2nd. They actually arrive at their destination in July. This movie is in Spanish with English subtitles.

In 2007 the ‘Wild Hogs’, bored with their middle-class existence, decide to take to the road on their Harleys. All goes well until they fall foul of the biker gang ‘Del Fuegos’ whose mean leader steals Dudley’s bike. The bikes in the film, provided by Harley Davidson, were an XL1200C Sporster for Dudley (William Macy), an FXSTS Springer Softail for Bobby (Martin Lawrence), a black Fatboy for Doug (Tim Allen) and a Screaming Eagle Fatboy for Woody (John Travolta).

In the 1997 film, ‘Tomorrow Never Dies’, Pierce Brosnan and Michelle Yeoh steal a BMW R1200 and tangle with villains in a Range Rover. Needless to say, Bond wins the day, and luckily for Bond, the owner of the BMW doesn’t catch up with him. Bikes aren’t used much at all in Bond films, which is a great pity as they seem to be ideal for the this type of movie.

Marlon Brando played gang leader Johnny Strabler in the 1953 film ‘The Wild One’, in which a small town is terrorized by two rival biker gangs. Brando rides a 1950 Triumph Thunderbird. This film was banned in the United Kingdom for fourteen years, after which its first public airing was at the 59 Club in Paddington, London. The audience were predominantly ‘Rockers’. The movie also features Lee Marvin as the opposing gang leader.

In 1968 ‘The Girl on a Motorcycle’ was Marianne Faithfull as young wife Rebecca, who leaves her husband to visit her lover in Heidelberg. One of the amazing things about this film is how she manages to keep her Harley in an upright position even when taking bends. The film is also known as ‘Naked Under Leather’, which sounds a whole lot more interesting don’t you think?

There are of course many other movies featuring motorcycles, some of them with very interesting titles such as ‘She Devils on Wheels’, ‘Chopper Chicks in Zombietown’ and ‘Electra Glide in Blue’, but until someone comes up with a scene to rival the wire jump in ‘The Great Escape’, I’m sticking with my favourite,

Alan Liptrot is the founder of Motorbike Tours.co.uk The Company offers guided motorcycle tours in Spain, Portugal and Morocco.

Article Source: Free Articles ArticleSnatch Article Directory

Steve McQueen, The Great Escape, Dennis Hopper, Peter Fonda, Easy Rider, Wild Hogs, Electra Glide, Motorcycle Tours, Motorcycles, Bikers, Motorcycle Travel

I'm Dreaming of a Motorcycle Christmas

I'm dreaming of a motorcycle this Christmas
Just like the ones I used to ride
Where the polished chrome glistens
and motorists listen
To hear my pipes go rumble by

I'm dreaming of a motorcycle this Christmas
With every open road in sight
May my way be merry
While I ride that cherry
Home this Christmas night

Motorcycles, Bikers, Motorcycle Travel

The New Bike and Bentanite

On the road - not even noon, okay, maybe but we still had plenty of light left and an a new bike to get broken in. We pulled out of Monarch Harley Davidson, turned left and headed towards Evanston, WY. "Grandpa" sounded nice, deep throaty rumble and a stereo, damn what more could a man ask for... okay, there are a couple of things but I was easy to please that day.

We rolled out of Orem and headed towards Provo Canyon opening the bikes up as we went. With each turn my smile grew wider and my wife calmed down, it seemed as if we were making this trip happen come hell or high water and both of us were equally determined to freeking enjoy it. Even if it killed us! One switchback after another, one climb followed by a descent, each mile ticking by a little faster than the last and it seemed before we knew it we were turning east on to highway 80.

We knew at this point that we were well on our way, the miles between us and Arizona were now considerable. The scenery had changed from high desert plateaus to pine covered mountains. Highway 80 cut through one mountain pass after another and the number of motorcycles heading east seemed to grow with every passing mile. Evanston came and went and was little more than a fuel stop--gas stations were packed with bikes from every state in the western US--fuel and go was our mission, as fast as we could, and just to keep the travel gremlins at bay each of us would ring our "bike bell" just prior to starting up and heading out. Onward we went towards highway 189 North to Kemmerer, Wyoming and then towards Daniel, Bonderaunt and finally Jackson (aka Jackson Hole). The miles were mounting up fast. We stopped in a small town, population one gas station and a mobile home, for an "ass-break", a quick smoke and something to drink and snack on. A quick check-in with the kids back home just to let them know mom and dad were still alive and kicking and the new bike was running like a kitten with a really nice roar. Fifteen minutes of stretching and bullshitting it was time to ring the bells and head north - on to Daniel.

The plan, I know, here we go again with this damned plan, but the plan... was to stop in Jackson for the night. We had ridden hard and covered a lot of ground if we could get to Jackson we would be nearly back on track.

We fired up the bikes and pulled back towards 189 North. A left turn, the clank of the gears dropping as we quickly got up to speed and then we saw "Them". We are not usually scared by "Them" but on this trip we learned to be and the group was about
to get our first lesson in how to "fear the sign."

What sign, you ask?

The feared "Road Work Ahead" sign.

We didn't know at the time that we should be afraid. We had never been afraid of a sign before. Why start now? It's just a sign. It's an eye grabbing orange with black letters shaped like a diamond - so, what's to fear?

As we rolled on what the sign had warned us about was starting to come in to view; it seems that in Wyoming when they do "road work" on the back roads, which really is what highway 189 is--a farm road, they tear up the top of the road and leave only the bentanite bedding for the farm/ranch trucks to travel on. This works good enough for motorcycles as well as long as it hasn't rained... and it had.

We pulled to the side of the road, shut down our bikes and just looked at each other shaking our heads. We all thought it--but it took a few moments for anyone to say it--WTF can't we catch a break!?

Bentanite, when prepared for roadwork, and mixed with rain, becomes as slick as riding on ice and just to make matters even more fun you sink in to it just enough that it will build up on your front wheel and turn steering in to a full body work out.

As you may remember from previous chapters in the 99 Trip to Sturgis story; I have been riding from the age of 10. I started out and road for years dirt bikes in the deserts of Arizona. I have a fairly high comfort level with off roading--dirt biking, just not on a nearly 900 pound motorcycle with 400 pounds of riders and gear, my friends have less.

As we all stood there watching farm truck after farm truck trudge through, sliding sideways, we knew we had to decide on one of two options: Ride forward through the 1/4 mile of road-less roadwork or turn around and ride 80 plus miles back to the highway and cut across the bottom half of Wyoming. The second, really, was not an option we had come this far, been through this much we were all going to Jackson and then to Yellowstone--end of story. So it was said--so it shall be done.

Mike decided that he'd go through first, JR would follow then the rest of the group. Mike's a bit crazy--you may remember him as the lead rider from the Riding Through Hell Chapter--so he and his lovely wife pulled out, followed by JR and his wife, and then the rest. Nice and slow was what we had said, too fast and the bike will get squirrely in the Bentanite, to slow and you may have a faster build-up on the tires... 100 feet and while not easily controlled we were all doing fine. 200 feet with each of us following the other. Nearly half way now, we were staying pretty much in the tracks of a truck and the new ones that Mike was carving along the way--and then it happened--as fast as you could scream "OH F*CK!" Mike's rear wheel slid left and then right and down they went sliding through the rain soaked Bentanite, JR swerved left to avoid running over Mike and his bike, corrected back to the right. Just when he got around Mike and Kim-- the bike slid to the right and then to the left and down they went doing their best imitation of Mike and Kim sliding through the mud.

It was sometime between Mike hitting the ground and JR doing the same that my wife began screaming at me and beating me on the shoulders and back. I don't know why. I still wonder to this day what would possess her to smack me around with everything else that was going on--I mean, after all I was the one in control of us falling or not--why hit me? I pleaded for her to stop but she wouldn't she slapped me and smacked me and beat me on my back, yelling things at me that are normally reserved for the bedroom, a divorce court or a combination of the two.

I knew she was scared and worried about her friends lying there in the mud but I couldn't stop - there was no place to stop. I trudged on, taking my beating as I went, listening as the profanities were volleyed at me like mortar rounds in a fire-fight and just for good measure an occasional "Let me the 'F' off of this bike NOW!"... thinking the whole time...soon honey and if you keep hitting me it may be sooner than you think.

I had put my feet out to the sides of the bike to offer a bit more stability--hoping my feet would act as skis through the muck and figuring if it goes down I should end up standing over my motorcycle and not under it like my oh so unlucky friends. To be honest I was also pulling from every memory and trick I had learned while dirt-biking and thinking the entire time... Jesus, I just bought this F'ing bike there is no way on God's green earth that I'm laying down!

As soon as I made it through to the other side I pulled my motorcycle off the road and we ran back to our friends, covered in mud, a little bruised, and not at all happy to say the very least. We picked their motorcycles up and pushed them the rest of the way through.

No one spoke, with the exception of one question and one statement; "Why were you beating on Troy, what were you thinking? You could have caused him to put you and that new bike in the mud!"

A few minutes to gather ourselves, calm everyone's nerves, pick the bentanite out of every crevice of my buddies motorcycles and we're ready to head to Jackson for the night...

And it started to Rain!



Motorcycles, Bikers, Motorcycle Travel

BUB Exhaust: Product Review

A couple of years ago a company by the name of Rinehart Racing/Bub Exhaust began showing up en mass on the motorcycle scene. Although the company has been making race tuned pipes for Motorcycles since 1976 it wasn't really until recently when the general public began to take notice - it might have something to do with the pipes and mufflers becoming more affordable for the average "Joe the Biker".

There are two things I want in most motorcycles. First it needs to have that certain something... that something that makes it a part of me. It needs to have a mean, grumbling, bitchy old man thing. Second it has to have balls when I tell it to do a Ricky Bobby and "Go Fast".

I absolutely love when someone takes the technologies learned from the racing industry and transfers it to the motorcycle world. Not only did they transfer the technology - but the people at Rinehart Racing/Bub Exhaust, in my opinion, have transformed the world of motorcycle exhaust.

Around two years ago I purchased a set of the Bub Eagle Beak mufflers. The price was around $600.00 including shipping and handling. I ordered directly from Bub Exhaust. I'm certain I could have ordered directly through my local Harley Davidson dealer (but they'd already gotten enough of my money) or through one of the Custom Chrome shops but hey if you can go right to the horses mouth - why not?

I received the pipes within a few days and immediately had my Harley up in the air pulling the "Screaming Eagle" performance exhaust off and putting the Rineharts on. It took no time at all - a few bolts and it was done.

* It is recommeded that you re-chip or re-jet your bike (depending on if it's FI or Carb'd) I already had mine chipped when I put on the "Screaming Eagle" performance intake and exhaust.

I started the bike up and immediately had a completely different "note" to the exhaust. A Much deeper, richer tone. So it was time for a quick trip to around the neighborhood. The performance and horsepower increase was noticable immediately.

When rating a product I look at 5 different areas:

Craftsmanship - always important if it isn't made worth a damn it will perform the same way.

Ease of Use/Installation - the "Do I have to bloody my knuckles" syndrome - usually because some engineer that's never worked on a bike made the part impossible to put the part on without injury.

Warranty - for me it's part and parcel with craftsmanship - hell you built it now stand behind it.

Order to Receipt Time - I hate to wait. If I've bought it I want it now.

Overall Performance - okay it may have bloodied my knuckles a bit, it may have taken a bit longer to get than I wanted but does it make me happy?!

I give the Bub Exhaust System five full leather jackets for excellence in craftsmanship, ease of installation, warranty, order to receipt time and overall performance.



Rinehart Racing/Bub Exhaust, Rinehart Racing, Bub Exhaust, Custom Exhaust Systems, Motorcycle Product Reviews, Product Reviews, Exhausts, Rineharts, Screaming Eagle Kits, Motorcycles, Bikers, Motorcycle Travel

Hulett, Wyoming Bike Week Transformation

Population 360 days of the year: 408, and then, for just a few days a year, the unmistakable sound of man and machine - Rolling Thunder will echo over the Black Hills and descend upon this small town. 100,000 sandwiches will be served, countless gallons of beer and soda will be consumed, T-shirts, patches, leathers and lord know what else will be bought and sold, and then, as quickly as it came the thunder will roll back out and over the hills until next year.

Population during the Sturgis Rally and the Ham-n-Jam aka, No Panties Wednesday, an estimated 30,000 - 40,000 at any given time with a constant parade of stock and custom Motorcycles, Choppers, Crotch Rockets and other two and three wheeled mechanical works of art running 2 wide and 6 - 8 miles in length (both coming to and leaving).

The first picture shows "Downtown" Hulett, the second shows the bikes parked about 1/2 mile out of town. They're lined up all the way in to town and anyplace they can park on the main drag.

Hulett may best be known for its proximity to "Devils Tower" of "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" fame.




Hulett, Hulett Wyoming, Hulett Wyoming Bike Week, Sturgis Rally, Motorcycles, Bikers, Motorcycle Events