Motorcycle People

"We are motorcycle people; we walk tall and we laugh at whatever's funny. We shit on the chests of the Weird...." - Hunter S. Thompson

One of the excuses for this trip was a gathering in Buena Vista, Colorado of a loosely affiliated group of motorcycle enthusiasts that Rod and I are both a part of. We had reserved a group campsite in the mountains, and it was a short day to get there, so we detoured through Hunter Thompson's old stomping grounds at Woody Creek, then on through Aspen and Independence Pass. After so many days of interminably long straight roads, the curves through the mountains were a good change, although the steep drop at the side of the road was slightly terrifying.

We arrived at the campsite to a warm welcome, and spent the next three days catching up with old friends and making some new ones. The second day there I rode to the top of Pikes Peak for a quick early morning jaunt, only to have my chain break on the way down, which turned into an all-day misadventure as I limped from shop to shop trying to find a replacement. Luckily, the chain didn't part completely, only broke a few rollers off, so the bike moved, but made a horrible clunking sound with every rotation of the chain, and threatened to break the sprockets if I pushed it too far. A place called "Dirt Cheap Off-Road" was out of stock on the chain I needed thanks to an ordering mistake, but located an almost-new chain on a bike the owner had cannibalized for a sprocket to go on his own bike. The mechanic there ground my old chain off and replaced it.

Although the chain would cause further problems later in the trip, for now I was safe to rocket around the mountains of Colorado with my friends, and spend the nights drinking beer and telling stories by the fire.