Deadwood and other Encounters

The sky is an ominous gray and the temperatures dropped, the sensation of pending rain has enveloped my tent site at the KOA in Deadwood.  I’m outside, doing laundry, and smoking a cigar—if I suddenly stop typing, its raining.

Shall we go back to the beginning?  There was this apple, a forbidden fruit..what?  Not that far?  How about this morning, that far back sufficient?

Put long underwear beneath my tee shirt, zipped the lining in my jacket, and headed out to brave Wyoming.  Did I mention I could live in Buffalo?  Doubt I’d get the city-slicker wife to live there though, eh?  Hold on…Got to fill up my new KOA glass with something out of my 40 oz. Hydro Flask (my kind of flask!).  No worries about breaking glass, those Hydro Flask people are genius’

Right, on the motorcycle, stopped in Gillette, WY for fuel at a (see picture below, this is G rated) and while there, a homeless guy, or so I thought by unclean appearance or maybe I look that bad too and thought we were compadres, starts asking the usual questions.  I’m polite, but not overly.  He then states, “I wish Harley’s had tires like these, it would’ve made my trip to Purdue Bay a lot easier.”

In astonishment, I respond, “You just got back from Purdue Bay, Alaska?  You live here?”

The homeless bum says, “The mosquitoes are horrible up there, cover you as soon as you take off yer’ helmet.  On my way home, Northeast Pennsylvania.  Your suspension looks great, wish I had that too.  The Harley’s like sitting on a rock.”

I go over to look at his Harley, I’m guessing a late 90’s, early 00’s.  It’s dust covered and has two small side bag-panniers, and knapsack.  Holy *$%& (G rated), you drove to the *&$@ing Arctic circle on that, I exclaim to myself.

I wish him well, and want to give him one of my Touratech waterproof bags, but he probably would be insulted.

Off to that mystery place (my nieces have to respond with some geography knowledge) where the road to it was a nice pathway with long swiping turns, a pleasure at 70 mph.  Except I have three separate encounters along the way that challenge my KIND of person.  First, a *#@&ing mini-van from California doing 35 in a 65; around her, zoom.  Next, second encounter, was this arse from Wisconsin, driving a red Ford Expedition, straddling the double yellow line in all the turns—puts the fear of the gods into any motorcyclist.  Zoom, around that.  The third, besides the rock, was an Alien I found in the gift shop, that now proudly adheres to my bike.

I made today a short day, I wanted to see the resort casino/hotel where Wild Bill slept.  I sauntered up and down the Historic main street, I know that’s why Wild Bill came here, to see the historic downtown and pay $20 for a hamburger.  I can see why Wild Bill found himself in a bar, after wondering in and out of the souvenir shops I wanted to go to a bar and drink too.  Alas, Trafalgar gets upset if she smells booze on my breath (this is why I park her upwind at the campsite).  And, this is why Wild Bill was willing to pay $13 to go down the stairs with a beer and see where he wanted to play cards.

I forgot to mention, the most spectacular attraction pulled me in like a piece of iron to a giant magnet, the Deadwood Tobacco Company.  This shop had an amazing selection in a large walk-in humidor, bar and lounge.  Appeared to be doing extremely well.

I ended the day at the laundry machines, doing laundry.  The bum from Purdue Bay guilt-tripped me into wearing some clean clothes.