Sturgis 2021 or Bust
Yep, BUST! Self and Bike….
Campsite at Indian Creek Campground in Deer Lodge Mt.
Washington → South Dakota (Almost) → Washington
I wasn’t planning on riding to Sturgis. Not this year. Not any year during rally week.
After the 75th anniversary, I had zero interest in returning during what’s now basically trailer week with motorcycles mixed in.
Then timing happened.
Work shifted. Finances lined up. I accepted a new job—same pay, closer to home, more flexibility to build my own thing. I gave notice at the old place. That window bought me freedom.
Friends were already in Sturgis. Plan formed late. I’d ride out solo from Washington, meet them, then ride home together.
Simple.
Except it wasn’t.
Pre-Flight Reality Check
Four weeks earlier, I’d broken my wrist and hand in multiple places while pulling a rear axle housing. Not healed. Not smart.
So I tested it the only way I know how—rode to work a few days. It didn’t hurt more than it already did.
Good enough.
I no longer owned camping gear—hotel life had spoiled us—so Amazon got a late-night order: tent, sleeping bag, air mattress, basics.
Bike prep was straightforward:
Fresh oil in all three holes
New stator already in
Tire pressure checked
Brake fluid checked
Final drive belt adjusted
Gear setups tested
Mission defined: get to Sturgis.
The Plan
I don’t like stopping when I’m on a mission.
Fourteen hundred miles in a day is doable—I’ve done it. But not busted up. So I split it.
Fuel stops planned. Campground reserved in Deer Lodge, Montana. $25. Seven hundred miles day one. Finish the run Sunday.
Day One
0430 alarm. Bike packed. Out the door by 0500 was the goal.
Reality: 0545 departure after detouring to my daughter’s place to grab supplies.
Behind already. Didn’t matter.
Highway speeds settled in:
70 mph until I-90
90–95 mph once eastbound
Washington passed quietly. Northern Idaho delivered garbage roads. Helmet came off. Montana came next.
About 150 miles into Montana, I stopped for fuel and checked in with myself.
Mentally: solid.
Physically: acceptable.
Hand: holding.
Decision point: push on or stop.
Bike week meant gambling on lodging was stupid. I stopped.
Fuel. Food. Seven hundred miles in eight hours. Still had it.
Camp was hot. Too hot. I slept at 1830 naked, sweating on top of the bag. At 0130 it dropped to 42 degrees. Crawled inside the bag and warmed up fast.
At 0230 my hand started throbbing. Swollen. Angry.
At 0430 I was packed, showered, rolling.
Approached I-90, stopped and contemplated, continue to Sturgis or head for home?
Mission changed: get home.
Night Run & Lighting Test
New LED headlight install the week prior. This was its proving run.
I haven’t used a stock Harley bulb in over a decade. Silver Star Ultras were bright but fragile—monthly failures and heat load on the charging system.
This LED?
Different league.
Clean beam. Massive visibility. Zero regrets. Review coming later.
Early riding has tradeoffs:
No food
Critters everywhere
Cold air
But empty roads make up for it.
Weather, Mistakes, and Mechanical Consequences
I pushed toward Missoula hungry. Cracker Barrel teased me. Closed.
Rain started five miles later. Then thunderstorms.
I forgot to swap my air cleaner lid. Ran the 360 open.
Water intrusion happened. The bike didn’t like it.
She started coughing rolling into St. Regis. After fuel, she ran smoother—but power faded climbing the pass.
Then I lost rear brakes.
Normally no big deal—I ride front-heavy—but my right wrist was the broken one.
Rain followed me for 150 miles. Cold. Wet. Dry. Wet again. Eastern Washington played games all the way over the Cascades.
Traffic increased. Pain increased. Adrenaline dropped.
Arrival
Exiting into Shelton, I rolled off throttle, downshifted, reached for rear brake.
Nothing.
Front brake?
Painful—but better than crashing.
I rode town slow. Avoided tight situations.
Turned onto my street. Garage door wide open??
Right—my wife had installed a tracker so she could find me if things went sideways.
I rolled straight into the shop.
Gear dropped. Wife hugged. Dog kissed.
Couch by 1430.
Out.
Post-Run Notes
Physically wrecked.
Mentally sharp.
Mechanically questionable.
I’d do it again.
Bonneville Speed Week was happening in Utah.
Probably not this year.
But next year?
Yeah. Maybe.
This tracker is ACCURATE!! Yep, that was my camp spot.
