In the day’s of the Biker there was a camaraderie
and a freedom that the biker of today cannot grasp.
They can’t grasp it, because it no longer exists. You
can never go back to those days any more than you
can go back “home.” Home wasn’t a place, it was a
time, and so were the days of the Biker.
In the day of the Biker you could go to Sturgis
and sit on the lawn in front of the Armory and welcome
the 1,500 bikers that would show up from all over.
You knew them all, and all knew you. This was back
when the Run to the Sun, now called “Daytona” first
started, and 800-900 bikers would get together and
ride together to watch the races in Daytona.
Today there are literally millions of people at
these events, but a greybeard will feel more alone
there than sitting on his rigid frame chopper crossing
Nebraska.
