The bikers have come and gone and hopefully what is left is a bit of extra money and a few good memories.
I am a fan of bike week and bikers. It is amazing how the rumbling sea of black can be so colorful as they file in and out of lines that represent society and a rebellion. A moment in time when shaving is overrated and a girlish figure is more the oddity than what’s expected.
Of my many bike week experiences, the first one I can recall seems to be the best. My parents took me down to the famous Main Street where I ogled the shiny chromed bikes like a magpie. Being the age of four, I had the ability to slip in and out of my parent’s vision, which I often did and ended up in visiting two different stores solo. The first one was a shop with all motorcycle related accessories. I remember the guy behind the counter giving me a pin of a long haired skull that read “the Pit.” Maybe he thought I could use it for protection. I still have it. The second shop was a more kid friendly and that particular clerk handed me one of those novelty stick helicopters. I have no idea why either of them were giving me anything and I’m sure my mom and dad were an arms length away, but in my mind I had just experienced my own adventure complete with treasures from my journey.
The end of this memory leads me through a walk among the graves of the Boot Hill cemetery. My mother was a fledgling photographer and there were several compelling photo opportunities located within the wrought iron gates. For some reason I have it in my mind that I lost my shoe (something that has happened a thousand times since) while climbing the trees and now every time I go by I am reminded of that day. Not to mention that it makes for a good story and a great ending cause who else can say they lost their shoe in a cemetery.
Do you have any bike week memories??