Motorcycle Madness

Maybe you've heard of Sturgis. We hadn't. That's why we foolishly believed, for a brief moment, that Mount Rushmore is just a biker's paradise, perpetually crawling with Harleys. "Look at all these bikes," we mused. "Wow, bikers must really love South Dakota."

Well, they do-- sort of. It's their favorite place come every August, when over half a million motorcycle enthusiasists descend on a town of 6,000 for the world's largest motorcycle rally.

How do that many bikers fit into a town that small? Again, a question we failed to ask, until we were confronted with the cold, hard truth: they don't. Instead, they spill over into the next town... and the next... and the next. Which is why there wasn't a single motel room available for over 300 miles. This really put a damper on our brilliant "see-Mt. Rushmore-at-sundown-and-get-a-room-right-afterward" plan, which was reluctantly replaced with the far less enticing "drive-all-night-until-we-get-to-Iowa" alternative. Enjoying a $1 salisbury steak in a Super Wal-Mart parking lot was a welcomed early-morning respite from driving.