In the far southern tip of Nevada, right on the Colorado River, is the town of Laughlin. Around the last week in April over 75,000 motorcycle riders descend on this town for the annual River Run. It’s the biggest motorcycle rally in the Western United States. I started going every year with my extended family back in 2000 after I bought my first Harley; Robin and I have been 5 or 6 times over the years. I haven’t been recently because, as you know – around this time of year I’m usually far away on some cross country motorcycle adventure. The plan this year is to put as much of the crew back together as we can scratch up and head for Laughlin just like the old days.
We found out about a month ago that I would not be “packing” on this trip. Robin went down to San Diego to help out with the grand babies. While I’d much rather have my wife with me, the fact that I’m going solo means that I can take the Fat Boy. Robin has ridden many miles on the back seat of this bike but it’s not very comfortable for her and there is absolutely NO storage so it doesn’t get hauled out of the garage very often. However, it is my favorite bike – it really feels like an extension of me when I’m riding it.
Back Fender, Points Cover, Front Fender & Kick Stand
Waking my Steed – When I decided that I’d be riding the Fat Boy I discovered that the battery was dead and would not take a charge. New battery – no problem. The last time I fired it up was a couple months ago and it wasn’t running so good. Okay, I’d change the engine, primary drive and transmission oil then start the tune-up. I started her up just to get the oil warm enough to change and the missing and coughing I’d heard last time was gone. Smiling, I went into the house to change my grease clothes for riding clothes. When I got back outside, my black beauty stood, chrome pipes snorting, and chomping at the bit, ready to be ridden; I swear this bike has a spirit of its own. It didn’t take long to get back that feeling of man and machine being one and the 100 or so miles went by quickly. I changed the oil(s) when I got home and motorcycle and rider are Happy Happy.
The ride starts with the crew gathering for dinner in the Riverside area on Tuesday night. After a night of catching up and enjoying homemade lasagna (this time around it was pizza) we are up in time to meet for breakfast at Gramma’s Country Kitchen in Banning.
I highly recommend the Chilaquiles but everything here is very good.
From Banning it’s a brief stint on I-10 then off to 29 Palms then north to Amboy. Not much at Amboy but one gas station that if nothing else is a good place to stop to stretch your legs and let everyone else catch up. There is some overpriced and no telling how old gasoline for those that REALLY need it. This time through one of the bikes ended up down in the dirt. Everyone was okay and with a bit of fancy language, the bike was back on the road with most of the parts working as intended.
The road we like to take out of Amboy was closed (washed out I believe) so we ended up on I-40 for about 20 miles to Goffs Road. Another gas station but this one isn’t out in the middle of nowhere so we got a splash of fuel for the run into town. This is the most fun leg of the ride – speed is mostly up to you and there are plenty of turns and dips to keep your adrenalin pumping. After successfully navigating the asphalt we checked into the Pioneer Hotel. We always stay here because there’s bike parking right outside your room & a balcony where you can hang out and still keep an eye on some of the activities and the participants – if you know what I mean….
Many of you may have heard about the dust up that the Hells Angles and Mongols had on the Harrah’s Casino floor back in 2002. That little mess caused law enforcement to quadruple (at least) their presence at this event and their vice like grip on the streets and outside activities has just about taken all of the “fun” out of the River Run. There is no cruising the main drag, you can’t even stop walking if you’re on the sidewalks AND enticing or being any part of “this” activity will get you arrested before it even starts.
So – what we usually do these days is go on a little ride after breakfast (couple or three hundred miles) and get back in time for dinner. The first day we headed out on a Route 66 ride that was to take us down to Needles then up to Seligman, Arizona. We got as far as Kingman before the BLACK skies turned us back. We didn’t miss all the weather though, on the way back we rode through some heavy rain & hail that was thick enough that there was slush on the side of the road – Ouch!! We didn’t pull over or slow down for it though.
Grab a fist full of throttle and grit your teeth – this is gonna hurt!!
The following day we all headed out for an early breakfast in Oatman, AZ. A mining town back in the day, Oatman today is mostly a tourist stop on Route 66. Unique to Oatman are the wild burros, descendants of pack animals turned loose by prospectors, that freely roam the town. They are tame but aren’t too interested in being messed with.
Dos Culos
Parked in front of Olive Oatman’s – we’re eating across the street, much better food.
Breakfast at the Dollar Bill Bar. Just about every surface in here is covered with dollar bills, signed, dated, and stuck wherever you can find a space. Photo carefully cropped….
In an effort to finish yesterday’s rain shortened Route 66 ride, four of us headed out for Seligman hoping to beat the building thunderstorms. We followed Route 66 to Kingman, Hackberry and Peach Springs before getting to my destination – the Road Kill Cafe.
After Kingman, the road climbed to an altitude of 5,250 ft and every mile it got colder and darker. It was spitting rain when we finally arrived and after the photo was taken we filled up with gasoline and got on I-40 trying to beat the rain back to Laughlin. We were largely successful this time, & mostly dry by the time we rolled into the hotel parking lot.
That night we went to El Palacio in Bullhead for our traditional last supper. Cadillac margaritas by the pitcher and fair to good Mexican food makes this an ideal place for our crew to have a little party. It always ends up a rowdy and raucous affair that justifies the back room that we invariably get shuffled in to. Rides back to the hotel from the last supper have been a little shaky at times – cough, cough. Nobody has fallen over though.
The ride home to Thousand Oaks was a little tough. I was looking for a different route and I either missed my turn or it was a tiny dirt road – not an option. So – I wound up on Interstate 15, 40 miles north of Baker. That wouldn’t have been a problem but the wind was blowing 25-35 mph right in my face, which means that the 80mph you have to ride just to stay alive out there is just like holding on at 115. That really beats you up after while and after 100 miles, I was glad to get off in Barstow and take Route 66 into Victorville.
I tried to wait out the rain in Canyon Country but got bored sitting on the side of the road in Acton. It poured for a mile or two on Sierra Highway but stopped completely right after that. I was cold and still a little wet by the time I got home but nothing that a warm shower and some dry clothes didn’t cure. It was a great time with my family and friends and I’m looking forward to the next time we get to ride together – whenever that may be.
Still have my coffee cup from the Road Kill. Tell Jaba, I mean Rich, I said hello.
I think we found a place that will give a garage and permit motorcycles, while supply Shelley with her pool and social circle. Negotiating 3-5 years with owner when lease is up here in December.
PS: Fat Boy is about 17 now? Be safe.