Biker humor around Sturgis Rally time is unavoidable

Especially if you live in or near the Black Hills of South Dakota, biker humor is part and parcel of the month of August. Sturgis Rally time, better for a biker than Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the 4th of July all rolled into one.

Never mind that it gets bigger and bigger every year and that probably every tenth dude you meet on the street is connected to law enforcement in some way--which is a bit of biker humor in an of itself. I've actually lived in Sturgis, which is a pretty calm town when there aren't half a million scoot-straddlers bringing life to the place.

It's still worth the trip if two-wheeling has any meaning in your life.

South Dakota is my favorite state. There, I said it. I grew up in Montana, now live in Colorado, but a big chunk of my heart still resides in western South Dakota. Biker humor is only part of that.

True, it does help if you have a slightly twisted sense of humor. Likewise, the funniest happenings aren't always funny at the time. Looking back, though....

(For supplements to keep you riding till age 100, click on the Rally sticker!)

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It was Rally time in the second week of August
The locals did pretty well, seldom made too much fuss
My wife and I had to make a stop on the way at the bank
Our business was feeding us well; we had a lot of great customers to thank
We were all decked out in our leathers, biker humor of course
You gotta dress right when you're on your iron horse
It should have been fine; I'd banked there for years
But the second we walked in, you could smell the rank fear

I needed to deposit nineteen thousand that day
You'd think I'd tried to hold them up, not give them my pay
Never mind the computer which could show them at a glance
I'd never had a hot check, an overdraft, or even taken a chance
The line teller bucked the problem to a supervisor in back
Who came forward and told me I was obviously a Man In Black
Not using those words, but you know what I mean
I was a biker during Bike Week, a less-than-human machine

To say that I was hot would be an understatement or worse
I stormed out like a thundercloud and went back to my horse
Took off my bandanna and replaced it with a baseball cap
Left my leather jacket and my wife and my well worn chaps
Walked around the block and through the drive-in on foot
That teller took my money without so much as a second look
The whole time that I was doing this I watched the supervisor inside
Sixty feet away with her back to the glass in front of my eyes

One month later, with the Rally long gone
I drove up to the bank with my check, all alone
Walked right up to the very same teller that freaked
She banked that big money; we didn't even speak
Then I went back home until the money had cleared
After which I paid a visit to the bank manager, Mr. Greer
I told him all the details and I think I made my point
Of course I wore a three piece suit to visit the joint

Whether the teller and the supervisor suffered I really couldn't say
But I know they call me Mister in that bank to this day
The moral of the story in South Dakota's Black Hills
Don't judge a man by his leathers when he pays his bills!

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Publisher's note: It may have more to do with bankers than with biker humor. Even here in Colorado, a manager of a small branch wanted to put a hold on a check from my stock broker. In her case, we didn't go over her head--I just take our deposits fifteen miles up the road to the branch staffed with people I like.

When our online business starts making us a million bucks a minute, I'll surely be tempted to let that cranky manager know. Hmm...better yet, maybe another biker-humor-wins-again page....

Thanks for reading,

Fred

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