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| Mostly, Blake and I like the old ones |
Anyone who knows me does not automatically equate Jeeana with Biker Chick.
I don't wear a lot of leather, no tattoos (not even a heart with MOM), and people are not, generally speaking, afraid of me on sight. Go figure.
Nevertheless, last Friday Blake and I went to Biketoberfest in Daytona Beach.
I "hem" and "haw" over many decisions. This was absolutely no exception.
Four hours round-trip sitting on a hard lump, legs and feet locked into one position, back aching from the awkward riding position. Blake's Thruxton is notoriously passenger-unfriendly, but when was I going to get another chance to see something as interesting as this? Plus, childish as it was, Blake was going, so I wanted to go.
We rode down in a group, command ride, mostly with people we don't know, but one guy Blake sort of knows who is a class(?) behind him. This guy's got his 8th kid on the way. I'll give you a minute to process that................. ................. ....................... done?
.:. side story.:.
My mother-in-law,
Dana, is not impressed because she is part of a gigantic family herself. Seriously. She's one of nine kids. Wait, is it ten? It's a lot. The first time I met her side of the family, it was for a holiday party. A few days before I went to the doctor's office and found out I had some kind of protein buildup on my eyeball from sand or something in my contact.
Doctor: You have to put drops in your eye twice a day.
Me: Okay.
Doctor: You have to wear an eyepatch.
Me: ........ I'm meeting my broyfriend's
entire family in three days.
Doctor: Oh.
Me: Yeah.
Doctor: You don't have to wear it.
So that's the story of how I almost had a lifetime of three hundred people calling me "matey" and asking me where my parrot was. Crisis averted.
Okay, moving on.
.:.
Bikes!
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| Love the old school lettering |
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| Prices in at over $37,000 dollars. Whoa. |
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| This raced at Bonneville. Awesome! |
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| Japanese. Notice the intake is a pagoda. |
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| Corrupted Triumph. One of the few non-Harleys on the beach. |
The command ride was really cool. I'd never ridden in a group before. There were six or seven bikes, all different types, so not only did we look cool, but we were safe.
We split up at the beach because Blake and I wanted to go to the triumph dealership right away and no one else really did (Harleys and crotch rockets).
The dealership also sold BMWs and Ducatis, but the Triumphs were where it was at for us! They had a whole demo area set up with all the different Triumph models. Including Blake's first bike, which he had for like, two weeks because it caused issues, and looked like death on two wheels... the Street Triple. Bright, neon green, just like Blake's was. Even Blake admits it wasn't the right bike for him. Too sporty, too much power, too much temptation to do unnecessary speeds.
After we exhausted every inch of that dealership, we did a lot of walking.
Bike stores everywhere. Custom shops, Harley, Indian, and a great little Mexican place where we got an awesome lunch for like, ten bucks total.
Then we went over to the beach side. More walking. They'd actually shut down streets on Daytona Beach. Bikes were parked in long, shiny rows up and down every street. There were a lot of stock-looking Harleys, but Blake and I wandered up and down every street because once in awhile, you'd find something really interesting just sitting around.
Also, there were a lot of trikes. Here's an example:
Lehman Trikes. Basically, a cruiser bike with three wheels. Some are built up like cars and have actual car engines in them (sometimes hybrid) and have actual doors and trunks.
Okay, not that we've got the Bike part of Biketoberfest explored. Can we discuss the People of Biketoberfest?
I didn't expect to go there, stand in the middle of the street, take a deep breath and decide "
these.... these are my people." I expected to be surprised. I was.
Let's talk about the very mature woman, skinny as a twig, wearing a black bodysuit that had slits cut up an down the entire side, the entire front and the entire back. While this woman obviously had serious balls, she did not have underwear... or actual balls for that matter because she would have been arrested for flashing hundreds of people. Maybe she should have saved that little number for later. It looked like that crowd was going to get rowdy later on.
I was exhausted by 3 o'clock. All the walking. All the heat. The exhaust fumes. We made one last trek up and down the main street so Blake and I could get winged triumph patches sewn on our jackets (right where Blake's aviator wings go). Then, we set out on the ride back.
My butt was killing me the whole day. It was better we didn't have to sit down because I would've needed one of those doughnuts they give people with hemorrhoids.
About a half hour into the trip, my eyelids got heavy. I tried to focus on anything and everything, but it was tough. The next thing I knew, Blake's elbow nudged my arm and he said, "are you asleep back there?"
I was.
I was asleep on the back of a motorcycle. It's a good thing Blake's not a show-off or he would have accelerated me right off the back.
We pulled into a gas station and after Blake was done laughing at me, we had a snack and I felt much better.
We were ready to pull out and Blake noticed gas GUSHING out of car whose gas pump nozzle had been left unattended. Seriously people, those signs don't lie. Watch out. That woman had at least twenty bucks of gas all over her car and draining into the gutter. She ran out of the gas station and Blake was going to put it back in the holder, but the lady thanked him and said she could do it. Blake was wearing heavy steel-toed boots. That woman was wearing those sandals that make you feel like you're bare-footed. Hope she likes the smell of gasoline. I do.
I'm happy to report I stayed awake the whole ride home and we arrived safe and sound back home just before dark, tired, but happy. My butt, back and legs hurt for two days. Yes, I complained about it, but I did it with a smile.
