This is the fourth part of a series. This is kind of like a soap opera. If you haven't been following along so far, you might be lost. I suggest that you beg your cooler friends for some back issues.
We were all still recuperating, or I should say attempting to, after Chad's accident. It wasn't easy to get back on our bikes and continue on to Sturgis. Spirits were pretty low, the weather forecast wasn't looking good, and we were all emotionally drained. We definitely had our fill of Colorado-we did have some fun, some tragedy, and at least a couple of guys managed to find companionship. I had just gotten off the phone with my pregnant sister. She was turning 40 and squeezing out her first baby. She is a super anal-retentive, bossy, high-end rich lawyer-the absolute opposite of me. In hopes of freaking her out, I asked if she was finally growing a chest. Somehow the conversation backfired. She then engaged me in a detailed conversation about the scar on my forehead, which she claims is from my dad while I was still in my mom's womb, whatever that means. Our heartfelt talk got much worse from there, but I will spare myself-and the rest of you-from having to relive it in text.
The reason I bring this all up is that like my sister, Mother Nature can be a real bitch. Unlike my sister, though, you have to learn to respect Mommy Earth. I'm not talking about recycling and all that green shit. Of course, you have to take care of the environment, but what I mean is that if Mother Nature is going to have a fit, you just have to stand back and let her have it. If you try to fight it, she'll rage even more. Let me explain.
DAY 8 I-76 to US-138 to CO-113 & on to NE-19 to US-385 to Carhenge
All I was able to think about was Carhenge (carhenge.com), the ultimate in American roadside attractions located right outside of Alliance, Nebraska, in the middle of nowhere. Not many things are radder than a bunch of old cars stacked on end to resemble Stonehenge. I always wanted to go there, but Brad was whining about some ominous dark clouds coming in from the north. A storm in Nebraska is like being forced to face your demons...nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. "Hey Jackass. Screw your stupid Carhengey thing and let's beat this storm." Brad admitted to me later that Carhenge was cool for the first three minutes-basically about two minutes longer than he usually lasts, or so I hear. After his timer went off, he thought it was just a bunch of cars buried in the dirt. "Maybe in Chicago you don't have dirt, but in Cali we have lots of it." Cali has a lot of dirtbags, too, I thought. That dude has no sense of pride for American culture. He'd probably want to take a piss on the Corn Palace. I am ashamed to call him my friend.
Photographing Carhenge had my excitement RPMs running over 8,000. The locale seemed so mystical, and I felt just like I did when I was a kid on Halloween night after eating 10 pounds of sugar and finding my first nudie mag in the alley behind a friend's house: stoked! Brad was checking the forecast on the Victory Visions' weather radio. Brad, "Mr. I Hate Cool Shit," wanted to get going, but I insisted on getting "just one more photo." (In photo-geek speak, this means at least another 100 shutter clicks.) The squall line was getting closer, and the wind started to pick up, but I had to make a final stop in the gift shop for my lady.
We busted out north towards Sturgis, South Dakota, on Highway 385 hoping we could beat the storm or at the very least get to Rapid City to hunker down for the night. The gods of Carhenge didn't want us to leave and bribed Mother Nature into giving us a beat down. They must have heard Brad talking shit about their spiritual grounds. We thought about going back. As usual, we did the stupid thing and kept marching forward into the battle. You just don't mess with Mother Nature.