Memories of Summers past...
If you've ever met me, you've probably met my Sportster, Helena. I love her. She has been my battle horse for well over 30,000 miles, three paint jobs, two wrecks, 5 (or so) boyfriends, and 8 seasons- my beautiful, my one and only. I will never get rid of or sell this bike. And looking at her this week as I plugged in her Battery Tender for the last nice days of the season, made me remember the first trip I took on her... Waaayyyyy back in june of 2008..... *doodly doot doodly doot doodly doot* (youll get it if you like Wayne's world)
Take me back to June, 2008- my guy at the time, who also rode a bad assery Sporty, was a member of a few online forums, that he partook in while he was a door man at the bar where I worked.. SO MANY rad ass dudes and gals with CHOPPED and SCRAPED together sporties- garage built american muscle made iron heads and evos- all with carburetors, mind you this was 2008- the 2007 sporty (mine) was the FIRST YEAR for fuel injection- I barely had time to RIDE my bike, let alone talk about chopping her up online and learning about new companies and products- shit I had like 12 hour shifts at work plus 8 hours of homework a day- Earning that degree, in hindsight, was a stupid waste of time I could've been spending riding my Helena and being a kid- Fuck.. ANYWAY- He kept his finger on the pulse so I didnt have to spend the time- this was a benefit in so many ways- he knew what to show me for parts, he knew who to go to for accessories and custom built stuff- it was a direct vein to the angry youth raging the internet about the love of quad cams.
In comes the Quad Cam Bastards. Our conversation was a bit like this:
I hear there's a Sportster rally that's going to be going down in Ohio. Oh yeah? that sounds rad- June- cool, BIRTHDAY ROAD TRIP!!!
We took off with nothing but a paper map... this is before GPS was prevalent on trips like this kids- it was actually a thing to get LOST..
It was my FIRST bike road trip- I had owned Helena for literally 3 months. those 370+ miles were so intimidating.. so I packed accordingly to my specific fears- I had medicine and first aid, I had food and I had tools. I did NOT HAVE a rain suit, I did not have my leathers- period- Shit it was JUNE!! Its like 70 degrees and awesome.. hahahaha.. hahahahahaha!! There's that Hindsight again... had the helmet, and a few changes of clothes- PACKED!
We rode fast and hard to get out of the city suburbs, if we can make it to open road past Gary Indiana by night fall we will be doing great! And we did, and we rode hard- I was leading with the instruction from the last gas stop to pull over for the next lodging... You asked for it: the creepiest little 60s dirt motel on the stretch of route 30 between Gary and Fort Wayne we could've ever stumbled upon. The Halloway Motel. This place was... nostalgic, to say the least- but it was 3 AM, I was exhausted, cold and ready to get some shut eye before the last leg of our trip. As luck would have it, they were just getting the place ready to open up for the 'season'. I don't know why a motel would have a season, but this one was getting ready for it, apparently a car had driven through its brick pillar that kept the roof over the office door- and a gentleman that weighed maybe 50 pounds, jeans and t shirt hanging off of his bony figure, was up on a ladder setting new bricks.
We pulled in and parked the bikes, getting the attention of the momma cat and her 5 kittens sending them scattering under the bushes. The men working on the bricks didn't seem to notice us, so we asked- DO YOU HAVE A ROOM OPEN? The man on the ground stopped and turned to us, giving us the story about how they are just doing renovations to get open for the season, and he may.. just MAYBE has one room for rent. He motioned to a door ajar about half of the way across the front of the room doors- that one I suppose.
He walked over and instructed us to go in and get checked in, he could make it work.
I stayed outside so my companion could go into the dusty little office with one flickering neon light to secure us lodging. As I watched over our bikes and ALL OF OUR GEAR that was strapped to them, the cats, who had come back out of the bushes, inspecting my boots for smells, I bent down to pet one kitten and rethought it when the smell hit my nose...
When he reappeared he was brandishing a few post cards showing the motel on the front "ISNT THIS COOL!?" I didn't know yet.. but yes.. it looks almost exactly as it did back when that faded photo was taken.. how cool. Don't pet the cats...
The man re- emerged from the half open door telling us he could get us a TV if we really wanted one, and we declined telling him our purpose was for sleep and heading out at sunrise. So we started to unpack our bikes and settle in for the short night.
Inside the room was a basic 2 twin beds, one night stand, possible dead bodies in the closet type of room. The doors had been propped open for some time to dry the paint they had applied to the walls, this was made evident by the piles of leaves that had blown in around the corners of the room- the faint odor of paint fumes remained as well as the bugs that had wandered in. The towels felt like sand paper, and the water was a grungy brown, that made rings around the toilet, tub and sink- I passed on a shower, since we had just been on the road for a few hours- I could snag one at the next stop. The two beds that were in the room were positioned so one was right next to the window and the door, and the other on the opposite side of the room. We chose the one AWAY from the windows, since I pointed out I didn't want to die in a creepy old motel when Murder-face killer man came screaming in the door wielding a chainsaw just as we were dozing off- The 'safe' bed was hard as a rock, and the sheets were reminiscent of the towels in the bathroom- we did our best, completed the dead hooker check, and passed out.
The few hours we were able to sleep were interrupted by our 'neighbor' and her 5 little yippy dogs out on their morning walk- apparently they thought our bikes were a threat- and we got up, stiff and ready to get the hell on the road! The murder bed next to the window that we used for our gear and bags was the last thing I remember, I sat on it to tie my boots- and holy shit. SOFT and SQUISHY. WELL FUCK. Out into the misty morning we go....
( I did some research, and you can STILL stay at this motel!! WHA?!?! HERE I would advise having you firearm handy and testing BOTH beds first.)
June that year was particularly.... wet. It rained on us about 96% of the trip from this point to BFE East of Columbus Ohio.. I remember hunkering down, and just fucking following tail lights. There were a few VERY sketchy off ramps and passing semis.. I apologize if you were one of those drivers who thought they were going to kill me, I wasn't a very good rider back then!!!!!
We were SOAKING wet by the time we hit Fort Wayne, and decided to look into rain gear. SURE WHY NOT? The temperatures were fluctuating near the 50's in the low lying and tree covered areas, and I was freezing cold- again with the NO GEAR policy I had instilled in my packing regimen, I had nothing else to put on, I was as layered up as I could be, and so cold and wet.
The rain gear melted to my pipes IMMEDIATELY, and ripped off of us about... 45 miles down the road- it was NOT proper rain gear for bikes, and we just thought if anything could keep us warm for a few seconds.. but to no avail. This is one of the main reasons I HAVE rain gear, and ALWAYS have it packed on my bike with me- no matter what the conditions. You live, you learn, I'm here to tell you- save yourself the learning, it's NO FUN!
The road conditions, weather, and frequent stops to warm up and get gas (we are both on Sporties remember) put us VERY far behind schedule, and we ended up arriving in Columbus near dark.
We had vague instructions as to where we were going, it was a campsite, we knew that- and the man at the local Quick-E-Mart was very helpful in getting us in the right direction- after a few beef sticks and a refuel, we were on our way- LAST LEG! We took the man's directions, and headed to our destination.
The turn into the 'campsite' was virtually unmarked, and in the dark pouring rain, it didn't exist. The one thing we DID find, however, was an out of season, or possibly out of business HOUSE OF HORRORS attraction, with large scary eyes and monsters cut out of particle board, warnings to tread no further, and a curious oil barrel burning bright into the night, with not a soul to be found.
WTF. My instant fear instincts kicked in, and I was convinced we were lured into our deaths. They are going to kill us!! I kept saying.. Where the fuck is everyone? we sat there.. trying to get some sort of a signal on our 'cell phones' maybe trying to contact someone from the forum- somehow- to help us before whoever lit that fire was back from hanging his previous victim in the freezer to find us. THEN it happened. Headlights. coming from deep in the woods and through the horrid mud, a twisting trail between the trees and rain. A truck- pulling.. yes a trailer.. with a bike on it!!! THANK YOU BABY JESUS we weren't going to die today! We must have been quite a sight to this man- all geared up, shredded pants hanging from his waist, shredded rain coat hanging off my arms, soaking wet and fear in our eyes lit by the dim glow of the fire in the oil barrel.
He informed us we had, in fact, made IT! It was flooded, he was throwing in the towel, but yeah, there are people still camping- head down this trail and you can't miss the campsite. SWEET! So we head down the 'trail'... by trail, he meant a mile and a half (at least) of winding curving sloppy field entrance that was flooded from 3 days of constant rain and had become a death trap to consume Sportsters. He must've not felt like going in to details.. we embarked.
Now with my 3 months of experience, at this point I had done MANY firsts- my first ride in the rain ( I had taken my safety course through Harley Davidson in the rain that previous March, but not ridden 300 miles in it), my first road trip on the bike, my first time in Indiana, Ohio, eating nothing but beef jerky for 3 solid meals, the list goes on.. so it only figures it should be the first time I lay my bike down too!!
About halfway- or so- we could see the flicker of campfires and hear some music, some laughter- I knew that every person at the campground could hear us AND see our headlights coming down the 'trail'- My adventure partner was well ahead of me, getting excited and throwing up mud fishtailing back and forth to get through the mess- and here I am, white knuckled, feet down, skidding, trying not to fall over or sink in- and then it happened... I goosed her, she went left, she went right, I put my left foot down to stop her from falling over, as I braked with my front and rear brake to stop and end the fishtailing, and as I came to a stop my foot sunk. Now SUNK.. I mean.. BURRIED in the mud. I was up to my thigh in mud, my leg was straight down, and my bike was on her side, on top of my inner thigh. HUMPH. I hit the kill switch- eyeing ahead to see if my guy had noticed my headlight was no longer moving- and also toward the ever bright fire- Who saw me beef it??!! He noticed and headed back. I couldn't move- up down sideways- nothing. I was stuck, and Helena was pushing me into the mud. Panic in his eyes, he secured his bike, somehow, in this mud so it didn't fall over, and ran over to my side- ARE YOU OK!?? All I can do is laugh.. yes I'm fine, can you lift her off of me? My legs stuck!!! Getting her off was the easy part- not losing my boot in the muck, THAT was a challenge! Completely non-discouraged, I scraped as much mud off as I could, we dried our tears from laughing so god damned hard, and got back on the beasts- we took it a bit easier the rest of the way in to the campsite, the last challenge being to cross a submerged 'bridge' (I realize I'm using a lot of quotes, but when you think bridge and see planks of wood across a creek- it deserves quotes) and we were home free.
CAMP , FINALLY!!! The fire warmed faces and cheers that greeted us were more than inviting, we had never really met any of these people, and they are SO excited to see us!! Pretty immediately there was a beer in my hand, as well as many handshakes, and I had directions on how to get to an indoor outhouse to try and change and get a little more comfortable. We headed there first, laughing at our reflections in the mirror and how silly I felt for putting eye liner on that morning! So I tried to make the best of it, I wrapped my head in a bandanna, reapplied the eyeliner, because FUCK it, and headed to the party.
We had stumbled into a very cool scene.. there were new riders, old riders, experienced craftsman (AKA CrazyHOrse) and ones that had just started making bars, or parts for Sportsters. We were in VERY good company. As the night went on we heard stories and told stories, I had guys saying that 400 miles was a long way to ride on the back of a Sportster to which I responded, I wouldn't have the slightest idea: I was there on my own bike- BOOM minds BLOWN- it was great! Rock stars.... hahaha- it was amazing.
The next morning we woke up in our tiny tent we THOUGHT was on high enough ground, not really, and there were daddy long legs in there I had to throw out while my companion screamed, such good times. I hung out a the camp a majority of the day not really wanting to ride anywhere, but the rain had stopped. Most everyone was ripping around and flinging mud up onto their backs, the riders behind them and everywhere in between! I spent most of my time admiring he bikes, builds, parts and paint jobs I saw all around me- All I could think was ONE DAY Helena could be this cool!! A woman named Iron Hollie on the forum had the RADDEST rattlecan paint job- lace and lines, panels and flake. When she told me how to do it, and that she had done it herself. THAT was the point in time when I switched my brain- THAT is when I realized.. yes I can do this. I ran into one older fellow, who had come up from Florida I think, he asked me if that was me that had dropped my bike on the way in the previous night, I reluctantly hung my head and answered YES. He must have seen my cheeks flush, because he told me not to feel bad, he had too. WOW. I'm not that out of my element after all!
EVERYONES bikes were caked in mud- just fucking awful.. but it was glorious. The party, the times, the days- I can remember them as a distant memory, a fume in the gas tank of the past, what once was, and shall be- This rally was the first of what is still the BASTARD BASH, held every year now, down in Deals Gap...2015 marked the 8th year for the bash- and my companion from years ago was there, and told me, they are still having way too much fucking fun!! So ladies and gents, you better believe my ass will be on Helena's saddle as we ride the dragon in 2016 with the Bastards. If it is as much fun as it was back then, or even a sliver of once was, watch out- Amy Sue Sporty is coming to party... and THIS TIME I will feel like I belong enough to get in on the group photo!
Take me back to June, 2008- my guy at the time, who also rode a bad assery Sporty, was a member of a few online forums, that he partook in while he was a door man at the bar where I worked.. SO MANY rad ass dudes and gals with CHOPPED and SCRAPED together sporties- garage built american muscle made iron heads and evos- all with carburetors, mind you this was 2008- the 2007 sporty (mine) was the FIRST YEAR for fuel injection- I barely had time to RIDE my bike, let alone talk about chopping her up online and learning about new companies and products- shit I had like 12 hour shifts at work plus 8 hours of homework a day- Earning that degree, in hindsight, was a stupid waste of time I could've been spending riding my Helena and being a kid- Fuck.. ANYWAY- He kept his finger on the pulse so I didnt have to spend the time- this was a benefit in so many ways- he knew what to show me for parts, he knew who to go to for accessories and custom built stuff- it was a direct vein to the angry youth raging the internet about the love of quad cams.
 |
| group photo the Bastards took the morning of the bash. |
I hear there's a Sportster rally that's going to be going down in Ohio. Oh yeah? that sounds rad- June- cool, BIRTHDAY ROAD TRIP!!!
We took off with nothing but a paper map... this is before GPS was prevalent on trips like this kids- it was actually a thing to get LOST..
 |
| we took the ROAD LESS TRAVELED (the middle one) |
We rode fast and hard to get out of the city suburbs, if we can make it to open road past Gary Indiana by night fall we will be doing great! And we did, and we rode hard- I was leading with the instruction from the last gas stop to pull over for the next lodging... You asked for it: the creepiest little 60s dirt motel on the stretch of route 30 between Gary and Fort Wayne we could've ever stumbled upon. The Halloway Motel. This place was... nostalgic, to say the least- but it was 3 AM, I was exhausted, cold and ready to get some shut eye before the last leg of our trip. As luck would have it, they were just getting the place ready to open up for the 'season'. I don't know why a motel would have a season, but this one was getting ready for it, apparently a car had driven through its brick pillar that kept the roof over the office door- and a gentleman that weighed maybe 50 pounds, jeans and t shirt hanging off of his bony figure, was up on a ladder setting new bricks.
 |
| This was NOT the Halloway |
He walked over and instructed us to go in and get checked in, he could make it work.
I stayed outside so my companion could go into the dusty little office with one flickering neon light to secure us lodging. As I watched over our bikes and ALL OF OUR GEAR that was strapped to them, the cats, who had come back out of the bushes, inspecting my boots for smells, I bent down to pet one kitten and rethought it when the smell hit my nose...
When he reappeared he was brandishing a few post cards showing the motel on the front "ISNT THIS COOL!?" I didn't know yet.. but yes.. it looks almost exactly as it did back when that faded photo was taken.. how cool. Don't pet the cats...
The man re- emerged from the half open door telling us he could get us a TV if we really wanted one, and we declined telling him our purpose was for sleep and heading out at sunrise. So we started to unpack our bikes and settle in for the short night.
Inside the room was a basic 2 twin beds, one night stand, possible dead bodies in the closet type of room. The doors had been propped open for some time to dry the paint they had applied to the walls, this was made evident by the piles of leaves that had blown in around the corners of the room- the faint odor of paint fumes remained as well as the bugs that had wandered in. The towels felt like sand paper, and the water was a grungy brown, that made rings around the toilet, tub and sink- I passed on a shower, since we had just been on the road for a few hours- I could snag one at the next stop. The two beds that were in the room were positioned so one was right next to the window and the door, and the other on the opposite side of the room. We chose the one AWAY from the windows, since I pointed out I didn't want to die in a creepy old motel when Murder-face killer man came screaming in the door wielding a chainsaw just as we were dozing off- The 'safe' bed was hard as a rock, and the sheets were reminiscent of the towels in the bathroom- we did our best, completed the dead hooker check, and passed out.
The few hours we were able to sleep were interrupted by our 'neighbor' and her 5 little yippy dogs out on their morning walk- apparently they thought our bikes were a threat- and we got up, stiff and ready to get the hell on the road! The murder bed next to the window that we used for our gear and bags was the last thing I remember, I sat on it to tie my boots- and holy shit. SOFT and SQUISHY. WELL FUCK. Out into the misty morning we go....
( I did some research, and you can STILL stay at this motel!! WHA?!?! HERE I would advise having you firearm handy and testing BOTH beds first.)
June that year was particularly.... wet. It rained on us about 96% of the trip from this point to BFE East of Columbus Ohio.. I remember hunkering down, and just fucking following tail lights. There were a few VERY sketchy off ramps and passing semis.. I apologize if you were one of those drivers who thought they were going to kill me, I wasn't a very good rider back then!!!!!
 |
| not us, but might as well could've been!! |
The rain gear melted to my pipes IMMEDIATELY, and ripped off of us about... 45 miles down the road- it was NOT proper rain gear for bikes, and we just thought if anything could keep us warm for a few seconds.. but to no avail. This is one of the main reasons I HAVE rain gear, and ALWAYS have it packed on my bike with me- no matter what the conditions. You live, you learn, I'm here to tell you- save yourself the learning, it's NO FUN!
The road conditions, weather, and frequent stops to warm up and get gas (we are both on Sporties remember) put us VERY far behind schedule, and we ended up arriving in Columbus near dark.
We had vague instructions as to where we were going, it was a campsite, we knew that- and the man at the local Quick-E-Mart was very helpful in getting us in the right direction- after a few beef sticks and a refuel, we were on our way- LAST LEG! We took the man's directions, and headed to our destination.
The turn into the 'campsite' was virtually unmarked, and in the dark pouring rain, it didn't exist. The one thing we DID find, however, was an out of season, or possibly out of business HOUSE OF HORRORS attraction, with large scary eyes and monsters cut out of particle board, warnings to tread no further, and a curious oil barrel burning bright into the night, with not a soul to be found.
 |
| This is actually part of the parks paintball attraction |
He informed us we had, in fact, made IT! It was flooded, he was throwing in the towel, but yeah, there are people still camping- head down this trail and you can't miss the campsite. SWEET! So we head down the 'trail'... by trail, he meant a mile and a half (at least) of winding curving sloppy field entrance that was flooded from 3 days of constant rain and had become a death trap to consume Sportsters. He must've not felt like going in to details.. we embarked.
Now with my 3 months of experience, at this point I had done MANY firsts- my first ride in the rain ( I had taken my safety course through Harley Davidson in the rain that previous March, but not ridden 300 miles in it), my first road trip on the bike, my first time in Indiana, Ohio, eating nothing but beef jerky for 3 solid meals, the list goes on.. so it only figures it should be the first time I lay my bike down too!!
About halfway- or so- we could see the flicker of campfires and hear some music, some laughter- I knew that every person at the campground could hear us AND see our headlights coming down the 'trail'- My adventure partner was well ahead of me, getting excited and throwing up mud fishtailing back and forth to get through the mess- and here I am, white knuckled, feet down, skidding, trying not to fall over or sink in- and then it happened... I goosed her, she went left, she went right, I put my left foot down to stop her from falling over, as I braked with my front and rear brake to stop and end the fishtailing, and as I came to a stop my foot sunk. Now SUNK.. I mean.. BURRIED in the mud. I was up to my thigh in mud, my leg was straight down, and my bike was on her side, on top of my inner thigh. HUMPH. I hit the kill switch- eyeing ahead to see if my guy had noticed my headlight was no longer moving- and also toward the ever bright fire- Who saw me beef it??!! He noticed and headed back. I couldn't move- up down sideways- nothing. I was stuck, and Helena was pushing me into the mud. Panic in his eyes, he secured his bike, somehow, in this mud so it didn't fall over, and ran over to my side- ARE YOU OK!?? All I can do is laugh.. yes I'm fine, can you lift her off of me? My legs stuck!!! Getting her off was the easy part- not losing my boot in the muck, THAT was a challenge! Completely non-discouraged, I scraped as much mud off as I could, we dried our tears from laughing so god damned hard, and got back on the beasts- we took it a bit easier the rest of the way in to the campsite, the last challenge being to cross a submerged 'bridge' (I realize I'm using a lot of quotes, but when you think bridge and see planks of wood across a creek- it deserves quotes) and we were home free.
CAMP , FINALLY!!! The fire warmed faces and cheers that greeted us were more than inviting, we had never really met any of these people, and they are SO excited to see us!! Pretty immediately there was a beer in my hand, as well as many handshakes, and I had directions on how to get to an indoor outhouse to try and change and get a little more comfortable. We headed there first, laughing at our reflections in the mirror and how silly I felt for putting eye liner on that morning! So I tried to make the best of it, I wrapped my head in a bandanna, reapplied the eyeliner, because FUCK it, and headed to the party.
We had stumbled into a very cool scene.. there were new riders, old riders, experienced craftsman (AKA CrazyHOrse) and ones that had just started making bars, or parts for Sportsters. We were in VERY good company. As the night went on we heard stories and told stories, I had guys saying that 400 miles was a long way to ride on the back of a Sportster to which I responded, I wouldn't have the slightest idea: I was there on my own bike- BOOM minds BLOWN- it was great! Rock stars.... hahaha- it was amazing.
 |
| Shot from the camogrounds |
EVERYONES bikes were caked in mud- just fucking awful.. but it was glorious. The party, the times, the days- I can remember them as a distant memory, a fume in the gas tank of the past, what once was, and shall be- This rally was the first of what is still the BASTARD BASH, held every year now, down in Deals Gap...2015 marked the 8th year for the bash- and my companion from years ago was there, and told me, they are still having way too much fucking fun!! So ladies and gents, you better believe my ass will be on Helena's saddle as we ride the dragon in 2016 with the Bastards. If it is as much fun as it was back then, or even a sliver of once was, watch out- Amy Sue Sporty is coming to party... and THIS TIME I will feel like I belong enough to get in on the group photo!
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