Once Upon a Time…at a place not far from here, many, many years ago there was a lad who had dreams of going traveling to far away lands. Born and raised poor he believed that if there ever was a will, there is always a way. To reach the goal of his dream he made a decision to give up the habit of smoking,saved up his money and eventually, bought himself an old broken down Iron Steed.
There would be many long days and many more nights while burning the midnight oil working to fixing it. His dreams were slowly becoming realized as he begin to take it for rides around his humble village. Soon He became more confident and began to increased the distances.
One day while stopped out on one of these rides he overheard others talking of this place that they referred to as the Mecca of Motorcycling. In the other villages he heard more wild stories of things that had happened to those whom had gone there.
At first It seemed as if all knew of or claimed to have gone…..at least once to this mysterious place.
There were so many tales and myths that hardly any of it seemed believable. Each story was more exaggerated then the next. Each was filled with every type of challenge imaginable. Those that had gone unprepared often suffered great consequences. There were so many extremes that many hadn't been ready for.
There were tall tales of mind altering road mirages as well as some who had experienced organized confusion. There was ghastly and dreadful stories of terrible storms unlike any that he had seen or had heard of including the Winds of Change. Where once you had gone through you would never be the same again.
Others told of heat so unrelenting that it caused delusions. Some had barely survived while they were broke down on the plains. They had been trapped, stuck out in the sun in the heat for hours with no shade. They described it as merciless as if they were in the desert.
.
Secretly he knew if he were to ever go to this place that he would have to plan and be prepared to take on this quest. Many that would go to the Mecca often would travel together in caravans. There is always safety in numbers.
To prepare himself he begun to ride the Iron Steed even greater distances. This would be an epic journey. He believed a true biker would have to have knowledge of his “Iron Steed”, his survival would depend on it
He heard of the dreaded Road Gremlins that could attach themselves for the ride to cause mischief and difficulties along the way. But one of the stories that he heard and believed was from the well seasoned travelers. Then he heard of the legend called “The Legend of the Sturgis Beer”
When the time came to leave everybody was gone. It was as if by magic that everyone who had
been there had disappeared or that they had gone on without him. If he was going he would have to go alone.
He mentally prepared himself the best way he knew how. Packed up all the things that he thought he might need for himself and his trusted steed for any of the unforeseen events that might happen along the way. Then set off on what became an adventure that would change his life forever.
There is always some truth to a legend; it’s what lends a little magic to it. The truth be told many years ago, because I was that "lad"
I quit smoking, saved my money and bought a wrecked Liberty edition Electra-glide AMF shovelhead. Within a year after repairing it I rode it alone on my first trip to Sturgis, South Dakota. Little did I know at that time what to expect or how much of an impact it would have on my life.
It wasn't just a simple vacation trip. It was so much more. I observed and participated in an experience that others could only dream of, and even though I cringe at the words ‘In the Old Days’ I am reminded of those earlier times even though I am much older and much wiser now because of it.
But even now I am compelled to tell you of this legend and what I learned from that first initial trip.
It was back then that I first heard of the legend of Sturgis beer. it’s been called many things but the Beer legend went something like this....
Traditionally, and in ‘Those Days’ when anyone and everyone rode his or her motorcycles to Sturgis. The legend was that IF you made it, you were to celebrate. (Remember there was a time when motorcycles weren't as reliable as they are now? Some of us may still remember the Dark Ages when a lot of bikes would be seen broke down along the sides of the highways.)
But if you managed to "get" to Sturgis, on your return trip back you were to load and pack your motorcycle down with all of the beer you could possibly carry.
The point being that if you broke down you won’t die of thirst while you waited for a rescue or repair. Besides it might help keep you from losing your cool. On the other hand if you didn't break down then you’d have a little bit of the Mecca to share, with those near and dear to you. By passing on the experience of your trip with a coveted Sturgis beer you would give to your friends.
I have continued this tradition every year since, giving away those memento’s that have become collectors cans from each of my Sturgis trips, providing them to other motorcyclist as well as to close friends and family members. To those that ride I ask they continue the tradition. Since then I have seen the cans I have given out shown with pride as they sit on bookshelves, fireplace mantles, even trophy cases. They are lined up with each year’s memory.
To me it feels a little like Christmas passing out those beers, sharing the memories
of that years trip to Sturgis with those that wish to return one day or to those that have never been. It’s a comfort and a sign of appreciation for those that have already been there and perhaps dream of going back. It’s a tradition that is worthy to be kept, there are so few left to even be aware of now. Its a story with meaning which there seems to be less of and that becomes more faded in time. Like those that still ride their motorcycles there and back.
I maybe one of the last bikers who can recall the past a traditionalist that remembers what it was like when it was unheard of, even ridiculous, to trailer a working motorcycle.
Passing out each one of those cans allows others to share in the experience and in a small way, they are thought of, and are included in the quest to the Motorcycle Mecca and back. (Besides, it’s cheaper than T-shirts). The true value represented by one of these collectible beers from Sturgis, only grows more valued over time, just like friends.
Keep in mind how much better it is to share. When you can talk over a beer, or in this case (no pun intended) the talk and the story behind a can of Sturgis beer.
May you all live long enough to go to the Mecca of Motorcycling. But now that you have been entrusted with the LEGEND, I hope you will fulfill the meaning of this legend with others so they can (again no pun intended) be able to fulfill their dreams as well.
I wish you well, and that you enjoy many years of travels because legends aren't just born, they are made…
