We had read about Sturgis and saw the pictures in Easyriders Magazine. It looked like the place to go for motorcyclists looking for adventure. Unaware that 1990 was the 50th anniversary of the world’s largest motorcycle rally, and that this fact would spike the attendance significantly to north of 400,000 people, six riders had a 20-minute meeting to loosely plan the details of our 1,225-mile journey.

*1990 was the 50th. 2025 was the 85th. 2040 will be the 100th. Notice how the last digits of the years align with the last digits of the anniversaries? The first year of the rally was 1938. “Shouldn’t it be 1940?” you might ask. As the story goes, the Jackpine Gypsies Motorcycle Club, who started the Sturgis Rally, cancelled it from 1942 to 1945 due to gas rationing during WWII. When it resumed in 1946, the organizers included an unofficial gathering in 1937 in the anniversary tally, so 1946 became the 6th annual.

Two weeks later six riders, one passenger (my loving wife whom I had married the previous year), and another rider’s girlfriend driving a pickup truck towing a bike trailer, set off for Sturgis, South Dakota. The trailer was added in case the bikes broke down (they didn’t), but ended up towing some of the bikes when the riders wanted to take a break.

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I never took a rest in the pickup truck, nor did I take advantage of the offer to pack extra stuff and store it in the truck because I didn’t want to get used to that luxury. From early observance to eventual participation, I was always fascinated by traveling great distances on two wheels, and the challenge of carrying what you needed to sleep outdoors.

I also wanted to have everything on my bike, in case we got separated from the group. Our camping gear (tent and sleeping bag), toiletries, and clothes for 10 days, were either stuffed into the Big Bertha leather saddlebags, or strapped to the bike. It was a long time ago so I don’t remember exactly how we did it. I have a similar bike now and have zero extra room when I pack for one, for a week.

After a couple of days on the road, Interstate 90 West began a straight, steady decline to the bridge across the Missouri River at Chamberlain SD, then ascended on the other side to the homestretch - the last 230 miles through the Badlands and Rapid City to Sturgis. I remember the excitement as the motorcycle traffic increased and the other traffic decreased. The motorcycle:other vehicle ratio seemed to be about 50:1 for the last 100 miles. Riding next to fellow travelers as we slowly passed was amazing.

We could feel the anticipation in the air and see it on their weathered and sunburned faces. There were so many different motorcycles, styles, custom accessories, paint schemes, and out-of-state (and country) license plates. I would constantly match their speed for a few seconds when passing so I could examine the different machines, and their riders and passengers. The bikes were loaded with camping gear and bundles of unknown items, indicating they were not accompanied by non-motorcycle vehicles.

After we finally set up our sleeping quarters in the campground and began to ride the winding roads of the Black Hills, we noticed random tents set up in the wild, nestled in the roadside brush. This was the first of many Sturgis trips for me but the last time I would ride there in a group.

Something Was Changing

Fast forward to 1996. The homestretch motorcycle:other vehicle ratio was now even at about 1:1. I observed many motorcycles in the “other” category in the backs of pickup trucks, on trailers, and on platforms attached to RVs. I also saw lots of enclosed U-Haul style trailers decorated in black and orange with the famous Harley Davidson bar-and-shield logo. What the heck is going on? Doesn’t anyone ride anymore? I thought to myself.

Like I said in my first article on this site: “I don’t understand it. At all.”

The campground that was filled with tents and motorcycles in years past, was now overwhelmed with camping trailers, pickup trucks, and massive recreational vehicles. Once we started riding the roads of the region, things didn’t seem all that different. There were motorcycles everywhere: The interstate highway between Rapid City and Spearfish, the Black Hills around Mount Rushmore and Custer State Park, the Main Streets of Sturgis and Deadwood, the famous Wall Drug, and the parking lots of every restaurant and roadside bar within a 100-mile radius of Sturgis.

Something started creeping into conversations that had never happened before. People would look at my license plate on my motorcycle and ask.

“How far is that?”

“It’s about 1,200 miles.”

“Did you ride here?”

Honestly, I’m not trying to be a dick, but the first 10 times I heard that I must have looked geniunely confused because to me, that was the stupidest question I heard from folks just trying to be friendly.

“How else do you get a motorcycle from one place to another?” was my response.

They would usually half-chuckle at what they pretended was my attempt at humor. It actually was for the non-motorcycling community. In years past the question was bonafide stupidy. But look around. It had now become a reasonable question based on logical observance. To motorcyclists, my sarcastic response was a poke.

Take a breath. Let it go. Don’t be a dick. Let them do them and I’ll do me.

Something Changed

Now fast forward a few years again. The biker culture style had entered the mainstream. Every celebrity, pro athlete, doctor, lawyer, CEO and their brother had to have a Harley Davidson motorcycle or a custom chopper. There were waiting lists for new motorcycles. Used bikes were also in demand, driving up the cost. I had sold my Softail Custom for a hefty profit at the beginning of this frenzy after racking up thousands of miles on it, year after year.

The wave spread to Europe. A buddy made a small fortune building and flipping bikes, then selling them to the same guy who paid cash and shipped them to Germany. A motorcycle mechanic I knew, who was deadly in martial arts, quit his job at the Harley dealer and moved to the southwest to become a personal bodyguard for an unnamed celebrity. He doubled his salary to take care of his new employer’s motorcycle, and ride with him on the rare occasions when he had time to venture out on two wheels.

In August of 2002 I crossed the Missouri River on my 2000 Softail Deuce and entered the Sturgis homestretch. The 1990 motorcycle:other vehicle ratio had been flipped around to 1:50. I stayed in the passing lane for most of the remainder of the journey, as the right lane was clogged with all types of camping vehicles and pickup trucks pulling trailers loaded with motorcycles.

Some of the camper and pickup truck drivers would sound their horns and raise their fists out their windows in celebratory salutes as I passed. I ignored them and focused on the road ahead. When a number of them decided to make noise in unison I couldn’t take it anymore. Apparently, riding a motorcycle to a motorcycle rally instead of carrying it in another vehicle was akin to scoring an overtime goal in a Stanley Cup final game. I raised my left hand high in the air and gave them the one-finger biker salute. I did it a few more times. It felt good. I don’t know why I let it bother me so much. Not riding just seemed wrong.

I arrived at the now-defunct Dakota Spirit campground just east of Sturgis on the south side of the Interstate. There wasn’t a lot of tree cover there so I could usually survey the field and spot my friends by their tents and motorcycles. In this case the view was blocked by gigantic RVs and tour buses converted to rolling apartments. I rode up and down the rows and didn’t see anyone I knew so I set up my tent on a small patch of available grass.

People were sitting around in circles on lawn chairs in front of their mobile monstrosities. Many motorcycles had not yet been removed from trailers. Some remained on the trailers for the entire week I was there. Some were off the trailers and out of the pickup trucks, but they were parked in the exact same spots every time I passed by to go riding, or returned at the end of the day. They had become nothing more than shiny statues of idol worship and modern campground decor.

The campground had a bar onsite so I decided to relax there the first night and take it easy after my 1,200-mile ride. After a ride like that my face was always as red as a tomato, no matter how much 50-spf sunscreen I applied to it, and I looked like a racoon when I removed my sunglasses to display the white mask underneath. It was mostly windburn, not sunburn, that would usually fade away in a couple of days. The look was always worn as a badge of honor, a reminder that it was earned from enjoying the fun and excitement of motorcycle travel.

I got a lot of stares. Nobody in the bar had the look. Nobody in the entire campground had the look. Two guys were talking loudly with each other at the bar and smoking cigars, hoping to get noticed. They wore brand new leather “club” vests (without club patches), that were so clean they looked like they just pulled them off the rack. They had riding goggles pulled up on their forheads. There faces were as white as plastic milk jugs.

I barely resisted the tempation to ask them where they were from, how far away it was, and

If you wait it out, the prices start to drop by the day as the rally comes to a close. Most of the vendors have travelled long distances to set up shop for a couple of weeks. Once the rally is over they pack up and head home. The value of their inventory drops significantly so they slash prices. Who wants last year’s T-shirt?

You can see how much values have dropped when you see T-shirts with prices as low as $5. You quickly find out the shirts are from previous years. Since I go every year and have a huge collection of Sturgis Ts, I don’t care what year is on the shirt - as long as it’s a quality shirt with a design I like.

This year, early in the week, I picked up two nice 2026 shirts for $10 each from a vendor in a parking lot somewhere in the Black Hills National Forest. They were set aside on a separate table with a sign that read “Shirt of The Day - $10”. I was going to ask if they had a different shirt of the day for $10 each day, but I already had all I needed.

Difficult Situation for Vendors

It must be difficult for vendors to try to figure out how many shirts to buy for the rally. If they don’t bring enough, they’ll run out. They’ll still have their fixed costs, while missing out on additional revenue. If they bring too many they run the risk of going home with almost worthless inventory. The loss might cut deep into their profits.

Solution?

I don’t know whether this will work. I don’t know whether it’s feasible. I don’t know the ins and outs of the Sturgis rally T-shirt business. But I would like to share a story that might help.

My daughter was on a competitive cheerleading team as a teenager. They travelled to competitions. One of those was in Dayton, Ohio. There was a T-shirt vendor selling shirts displaying the specific competition and the date. There were about five different shirts to choose from. It seemed like every competitor was buying at least one. There was a long lineup all weekend. The only finished inventory was the five shirts on display.

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The vendor had heat transfer vinyl printing machines onsite, and boxes of plain T-shirts of various colors and sizes. Customers chose the colors, sizes, and designs, then paid for the shirts. Designs were pressed onto shirts on the spot.

The vendor left the event with no finished inventory. I assume the designs were changed out as they moved on to the next event. Could this work for motorcycle rallies? Daytona, Laconia, Sturgis, and others in between. Move from one rally to another with no leftover finished inventory. Customers could be given a ticket for their order if things backed up, so they could walk around and come back when their orders were ready. Maybe I’m missing something, since I’ve never seen this business model at a motorcycle rally.

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Another Solution

As Jack from Cycledrag alluded to in the video above, you could omit the year from the shirts and sell the unsold shirts the next year at full price. Maybe this won’t work because a lot of people want the shirt with the current year as walking billboard proof they finally made it to the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally.

However, it works for Ryan at the Deadwood Ice Cream Company. His shirts intentionally have no year on them so they can be sold year after year. While they aren’t rally shirts, they capture biker culture and the region’s history at the same time. Ryan had a very cool custom motorcycle built that sits in the display window of the ice cream shop during the rally.

Rich History

The bike has an aces and eights theme, which is a nod to the “Dead Man’s Hand”. Wild Bill Hickok was shot and killed on August 2, 1876, in Deadwood, Dakota Territory (now South Dakota). Hickok was playing poker at Nuttal & Mann’s Saloon No. 10. Uncharacteristically, he was seated with his back to the door — normally he insisted on sitting where he could watch the entrance, but that day someone else was already in his preferred seat and he didn’t want to make a fuss about moving them.

A drifter and small-time gambler named Jack McCall walked in, approached Hickok from behind, and shot him in the back of the head at close range. Hickok died instantly. He was 39 years old.

The “Dead Man’s Hand”

At the time of his death, Hickok was reportedly holding two pairs — black aces and black eights (some accounts add a queen or jack as the kicker). This combination became known as the “Dead Man’s Hand” in Western lore.

Ryan’s ride has two revolvers attached to the back fender with the turn signal lights inside the barrels. His shirts say Deadwood South Dakota, Aces & Eights, since 1876, with an image of his motorcycle.

These are very cool shirts and mementos of a visit to the small western town. I’ve picked up a few myself over the years.

If you’re ever in Deadwood, stop by the Deadwood Ice Cream Company at 637 Main Street, have a tasty treat, and check out the souvenir shirts.

The Ace of Spades lyrics
 
If you like to gamble, I tell you I'm your man
You win some, lose some, it's all the same to me
The pleasure is to play, it makes no difference what you say
I don't share your greed, the only card I need is

The Ace of Spades
The Ace of Spades

Playing for the high one, dancing with the devil
Going with the flow, it's all a game to me
Seven or Eleven, snake eyes watching you
Double up or quit, double stake or split

The Ace of Spades
The Ace of Spades

You know I'm born to lose, and gambling's for fools
But that's the way I like it, baby, I don't wanna live forever
And don't forget the joker

Pushing up the ante, I know you got to see me
Read 'em and weep, the dead man's hand again
I see it in your eyes, take one look and die
The only thing you see, you know it's gonna be

The Ace of Spades
The Ace of Spades

-Motörhead

Share Sturgis Wind

I just got back from the 86th Annual Motorcycle Rally in Sturgis, South Dakota, and returned to YouTubers and other influencers complaining about price gouging. I stayed six nights. The total cost of my trip was less than $500 (excluding gasoline). Gas was the only thing I didn’t pay cash for because I didn’t want to waste time going into the gas stations when I didn’t need to. I didn’t even get off my bike for the first three gas stops. Tap the card. Pump the gas. Go.

Sturgis is 1,225 miles from my house. I headed west at 5:00 a.m. EDT on Friday, August 7 and rolled into my campground at 5:00 a.m. MDT on Saturday, August 8 (26 hours later). You know the weather was perfect when other campers asked me if I washed my bike before I got to the campground (I didn’t). I was not so fortunate on the ride home. The rain started in Mitchell SD and continued sporadically for the entire trip.

I have no windshield, fairing, or tour pack on my Harley Davidson Softail Deuce. Everything I needed was either inside my Big Bertha leather saddlebags, or strapped to the sissy bar on the back seat. I brought a clean pair of socks and underwear, and a clean T-shirt for every day of the trip. I had three clean pairs of jeans, plus the pair I wore on the ride. I had at least one hot shower a day.

I rode 3,000 miles last week. I look forward to this annual trip all year. I cannot fathom putting my motorcycle on a trailer and pulling it off when I reach my destination. I don’t care if anyone else does that. I just don’t understand it. At all.

I also like sleeping in a tent on hot summer nights. The ground is always dry and hard in Sturgis. But this year it was extra hard. The water level in the creek that runs through the campground looked like it was down about six feet due to the drought. I was told the fish were dying. Before the rally they had a couple of weeks of 100-degree temperatures. A grass fire during the rally burned 450 acres up to the road to the Full Throttle Saloon.

I found a big rock to pound my tent pegs in. Three went in and three bent in half. Three out of six is the minimum I would tolerate. I’ve seen unpegged dome tents go airborne when that Sturgis wind blows through.

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You might think riding long distances and sleeping in tents is a young man’s game. I get that. But without giving away my exact age, my first Sturgis Rally was the 50th anniversary in 1990. I rode the same distance on my 1989 Softail Custom, with my new wife sitting behind me. We slept in a tent. My bike packing skills have been refined several times over the years and I now have it down to a science.

was always the motto. That’s one reason I don’t use an air mattress. I sleep on my side, and I always seem to pick a spot where a tree root grinds into my hip bone. That’s the only discomfort until I maneuver around it. This year my good friend, who rides 800 miles south, tossed me an inflated air mattress and said, “Happy Birthday - you’re too old to sleep on the ground” (It wasn’t my birthday). I didn’t have the tree root problem this year and I got some rain water in my tent for the first time. The air mattress mitigated the damage. It’s light weight, so I was able to roll it up in my tent when I packed for home. I’ll probably start using it.

“Price Gouging”

I didn’t experience it. Yes, if you want to get a motel room or an Airbnb near a town whose population balloons from 7,000 to between 1/2 and 3/4 of a million people for a special event, you’re going to pay through the nose. It’s the simple law of supply and demand. Ditto, if you drag a 40-foot motorhome into a campground and start hooking up water and electricity. I saw one video in which the creator was complaining about $8 beers and outrageous food prices on Main Street. Have you been to a concert or sporting event lately? When you’re part of a captive audience they always take advantage for food and drinks. No surprise there.

I wouldn’t call Sturgis a captive audience. There’s no fence around the city and they don’t charge admission. You have choices. Instead of buying food from one of the vendors set up for the rally, we had a meal at a local restaurant on Main Street. It didn’t cost any more than similar restaurants in other cities. Another day we ate at the Mt. Rushmore Brewing Company’s Pounding Fathers Restaurant in Custer. The price was the same as you would pay at similar restaurants everywhere.

Another day we had a meal in historic Deadwood. Same story.

Camping cost me $30 per night, breakfast included. Last year it was $27.50 and it also included dinner. The small price increase and the removal of the second meal was not a surprise. They told us last year the change was coming. Before we found this gem, we would go to Sturgis Brown High School for breakfast and load up on the all-you-can-eat, reasonably-priced breakfast. Or hit the Blessed Emmanuel Lutheran Church for a made-to-order breakfast, with no set price. They only accepted donations. We always made sure the cost of a price gouger’s breakfast went into the donation jar.

Dollar General on Lazelle Street provided cheap snacks to throw in our saddlebags. And $2 water and pop was purchased from an entrepreneur who set up shop on his nearby front lawn. If you go to Sturgis to ride your motorcycle like I do, you’re always outside the city blasting around the Black Hills looking for another adventure. Stop at a Subway for lunch and you won’t pay any more than any other Subway. But if you take a shuttle bus to Main Street every day because you go to Sturgis to get drunk, be prepared to open your wallet wide.

One year we thought it was a great idea that they offered a free shuttle service from the campgrounds northeast of town, to Main Street, in order to reduce drunk driving. We decided to take advantage of a free ride into town. To our surprise it wasn’t free. It was $35 for a 10-minute ride. We walked back to the bikes and rode into town as usual.

Concerts and Entertainment

Our favorite trick in years past was to look up the concert schedule for the Full Throttle Saloon (FTS) and decide which bands we wanted to see. We would go there in the afternoon for a beverage or two, and get our hand stamped on the way out. The stamp ensured we didn’t pay when we re-entered for the nighttime concert. Even though this was a legitimate hack, we almost felt guilty about it. They put a stop to this loophole last year by fencing off the main concert stage area from the rest of the bar. I don’t blame them at all and I’m surprised it took them so long.

We still didn’t pay though. We could see the stage, hear the music, and watch the band up close on the big screen above the stage - kind of like when you pay for mediocre seats at a concert venue. We did that for Sammy Hagar and Friends this year. I’m not a big fan of the Van Hagar stuff but I love solo Sammy and Montrose. They played Bad Motor Scooter, which is among my top five riding songs. (I’m going to post a top ten list here soon, so send me a message with some of your favorites, if you’re so inclined.)

This year was the first year we missed Jackyl since they started playing every rally at the FTS. The weatherman was calling for rain. He was right. We didn’t feel like getting wet the night before we’d be packing up the bikes to head home.

If you’re getting the impression that I’m a cheapskate that will never pay for a concert, that’s not true. I’ve paid to see the Buffalo Chip house band, Lynyrd Skynyrd, a couple of times, and Kid Rock at The Chip a couple more. My first trip to Sturgis I watched the Allman Brothers and George Thorogood at the Rapid City Civic Center. The surrounding parking lot was 100% motorcycles. It was a sight to see.

The Iron Horse Saloon in downtown Sturgis always has free concerts during the rally. I saw one of my favorite bands, Clutch, in 2023 and 2025.

People

Meeting new people from all over and swapping stories is part of the fun — like the two guys I met in the rest stop 150 miles east of Rapid City at 12:30 a.m. One was from Cincinnati and the other from Arkansas. Both had left the previous morning like I did and travelled roughly the same distance. I was starting to think I was the only one who rode like that until I met these two. We were all so close to completing the trip in one shot but we had to get off the dark interstate and rest for safety. I had a solid three hour nap on a concrete picnic table, with my rainsuit bag as a pillow. Cincinnati guy slept on a blanket on the blacktop next to his bike.

I have never seen a motorcycle kickstand fail but you would think if you were going to sleep next to your bike, you would sleep on the side opposite the kickstand, just in case. Not Cincinnati.

Arkansas slept on his bike, on the passenger seat with his back against the back rest, and his legs stretched out and crossed over the bottom of his handlebars. When I woke up he was gone. Cincinnati was still curled up in his blanket next to his bike.

We met a young lady at the gas station next to the Thunderdome who rode her Harley Davidson all the way from Toronto, Ontario — her first trip to Sturgis. She rode by herself because everybody backed out with excuses, but she was determined. Been there and done that so many times that no one’s invited any more. Her spirit reminded me of Marla Garber, also from the Toronto area, whom I met several times before her passing.

Looking Forward

Another year, another awesome Sturgis Rally experience come and gone, as I start looking forward to next year’s rally. Like any major event, you can get price gouged if you don’t know what you’re doing. My advice is to talk to as many people as possible - all the time. Most people are friendly and more than willing to share their experiences and knowledge. I think most of the people doing the complaining are the ones who turned the biggest motorcycle rally in the world into an RV convention with motorcycles as decorations.

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