1995 — We Don't Need No Stinkin' Stator

The plan this year was to get off a bit early and we planned to meet at John's at about 1 p.m. on Friday. John and Ken were there but Bill was late. He was waiting for his paycheck and the checks were late arriving. Then he got it and headed off, but Ken and John still sat and waited. The phone rang, it was Bill, and he was in a shopping center parking lot trying unsuccessfully to get his bike started. We headed down to give him a proper push and after pushing it back and forth across the lot it did start, but clearly something was wrong. Not at all happy with the turn of events, Bill headed for his dealership and John and Ken went back to John's to wait some more. Finally the call came that they had determined that his problem was a failed stator, and they did not have one in stock. Bill wasn't going anywhere, at least not today. Finally, about 6 p.m., Ken and John took off, heading for Deadwood.

The day had turned cold and rainy but we pressed on as far at Wheatland, WY, where we stopped for the night. After a quick dinner we headed for the local bar where, after a couple beers made their way down our throats we found ourselves being propositioned by a truly drunk, ugly, fat woman who wanted us both to come home with her. We declined with no regrets. Trying to sleep that night in our crummy little motel room we could hear every cough, belch, and spit from the guy next door, and he did them all many times. Didn't matter. We were off on the bike trip!

On Saturday we reached Deadwood and it was time for more beers, as well as some gambling. On Sunday John called Cheryl, who had just heard from Bill that he had figured out how to get by without a stator and was getting ready to come join us. John called Bill and Terry ran out to get him just as he was about to pull out of the driveway. We agreed to meet in Thermopolis.

Reaching Thermopolis, John and Ken checked into a motel and wondered how to go about finding Bill. "Let's park the bikes right out by the curb so he'll see them when he passes by." We did and within minutes who do we see coming down the road but some guy from Colorado on a blue Shadow. Success. (The green line on the map is his route to Thermopolis.)

It seems Bill figured that, although with a stator his battery would not charge, if he removed the fuse that powered his headlight, he could conserve power and then charge his battery every night to carry through the next day. No night-time traveling on the agenda this trip.

It had been a pretty long ride for all of us the previous day so leaving Thermopolis we only went as far as Cody. Besides, they were having their big blow-out Cody Stampede and we had good memories of the Pinedale Rendevouz, so this looked like a good thing. It really wasn't so great but you can't win them all.

Next day it was on to Bozeman, MT, where John's nephew Dominic was living. We got together with Dominic and had dinner and then hung out waiting for the fireworks—it was the Fourth of July and our motel was on a ridge overlooking the fairgrounds. You know what? Bozeman is really far north, and in the summer the further north you go the longer the days are. It was 10:30 before it was dark enough to begin the show but it was one of the best fireworks shows ever. A good evening.

We pressed on from Bozeman to Salmon, ID, with stops along the way in Virginia City and Wisdom, little ghost towns that have been saved and revitalized. A bartender at one place gave Ken a lesson in tying his bandana so it looks the way it should, a lesson he didn't comprehend at the time and manages to live without to this day.

From Salmon it was back in the direction of home. We wandered south into Utah, then back into Idaho, and finally into Wyoming, where we stopped for the night at Kemmerer. This motel was truly special. It was pretty trashy and primarily served roughnecks working on the oil rigs in the area but its most distinguishing point was the fact that several of the rooms had no roof, courtesy of a fire who knows how long ago. But we got a big room with plenty of beds and no one had to sleep on the floor that night.

We had planned to make our final stop in Saratoga but there were no rooms at the inn. We were informed, however, that there were rooms available down the road at Riverside, 20 miles further. This was a stroke of luck. The Riverside Garage has hunter cabins that are roomy, with lots of beds, and cheap. Across the road is the Bear Claw Cafe and Bar. Get a six-pack and light the cigars, boys, we're in for some serious relaxation. Another place to plan on coming back to.

Nothing eventful on the ride home the next day. Another year in the books.

Only two photos from this trip available, unless someone has others.

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