I have found ,if i shut the vent ,stuff doesn't fly out of my windshield pouch, so when i need something out of it, i shut vent, open pouch, might be worth a try, might just work for me
So there we are......standing there, staring at the bike that had no keys. Cheryl limited her "I told you so's" to only one admonishment that I should have brought the spare set for her to carry. She, of course, was right and it was one of the things I just plain forgot to do. The good news was that I knew the bike could be started without the fob. I once had to call the dealer from my storage unit to do this same thing when I rode away from my keys sitting on the work bench. They walked me through the process and, as I recalled, was pretty simple. But the problem was, I didn't know the code. The last bike was programmed to the dealer's zip code. I bought this bike from a different dealer. I figured I could call them, but 1st I went to my most trusted resource - HDForums. Yep. It's true. I knew I would at least get a good start (pun intended) on fixing the problem by searching "Lost Fob". And sure enough, tons of info, including the factory security setting. So before the food even showed up, I went out to the bike to give it a try. Lots of pushing of turn signals and with great relief the little green light came on and the bike made the lets go noises.
I went back in to food on the table and a big smile - Cheryl could tell by my posture that I was victorious in my quest to get us the hell back on the road. We ate our lunch and talked about where the fob was probably laying. Naturally, it must have been pulled out by yours truly when I was grabbing my notes. So I blame this all on Harley Davidson and their shitty navigation system - Damn you to hell Infotainment! That's how it works these days right? We do something wrong and blame something or someone else. So much easier that way. No....the truth is I like the system and, as mentioned, simply haven't got around to learning it properly. In my defense I had only owned the bike for two years at that point.
A little turn signal magic and we were rolling again. We were at about half a tank so I figured we would hit a gas station on the way out. First station - 88 octane only. Crap. Ok.......we'll try the other one (because there were only 2 that I could see). Next gas station - 88 octane. WTF. It's getting really hot now and I don't want to run that crap in the bike. It will be pinging like a ****. So I said screw it and took a chance by heading out and hoped to find another one down the road.
Before I get too far, here's the route for the day -
I lost the keys somewhere between Le Mars and the Missouri river. If anyone wants a free key fob, you know where to look.
As mentioned, it was getting pretty hot - upper 90s. We kept our mesh jackets on to limit exposure. The temptation is always to ditch all the outerwear and "cool off". But we all know it really just makes it worse. And even in the upper 90s, it wasn't all that bad.
We rolled west on Hwy 18 and eventually 44. There really isn't a lot to see in that part of South Dakota. It's fairly desolate. Some farms here and there, but a LOT of open territory and Indian reservations. And not too many gas stations either. Which was a topic of concern because I hadn't found one to gas up at after lunch. So as has so often been the case, I nervously glanced down too often at the miles remaining (which on this bike is pretty close) and hoped for a gas station to appear out in the middle of nowhere.
We didn't see too much traffic. The occasional pickup and maybe one or two bikes. No towns at all despite there being town names on the GPS. Most times it was just a house or two. The conversation often went to "Wow......there is really NOTHING out here. WTF do these people do for jobs? Or entertainment? Or hell.....just a grocery store?" Another glance at miles remaining did not reveal good news. Less than 20 miles of reserve. Experience told me that it will count down for 10 more, and then simply say "LOW", which means I have about half a gallon or 20 more miles to dead empty. There was nothing from horizon to horizon to be seen. Not even a tree to get some shade under.
We did get to the LOW readout, but fortunately we made it to White River. There isn't much in White River, but there is a gas station. We pulled up to the pumps and shut her down. Damn! When we stopped it felt REALLY hot. The bike was making it's tick tick I'm hot too noises.
Because we had lost the key fob, with bag key, I couldn't lock the bags, which meant we couldn't leave the bike unattended. Yes, it had occurred to me that me that we were VERY fortunate that I didn't lock the bags before losing the key. That would have been super bad. So Cheryl went into the store to get us water and Gatoraide. Neither of us had to "go" because we were getting dehydrated. While I filled up the bike (88 octane - damn!) I looked around and noticed the gas station was right next to a trailer park. And hanging out on one of the trailer porches was a group of men taking a lot of interest in me. I could see some conversation going back and forth, and then looks in my direction. I wasn't really sure what it was about, but I could tell it wasn't anything too sinister. None the less I kept an eye on them.
Cheryl came out of the store loaded up with hydration. We gulped down a Gatoraide each there under the overhang and in the shade. There were plenty of spots at the pumps so I didn't push the bike away like I usually do. At that point the group decided on an emissary to send our direction. An elderly Indian gentleman. So we pretty much knew what was up when he approached and extended a hand in greeting. Yes, pan handling. I get it. The same things that had us wondering how a person earns a living out here certainly have an effect on one's ability to earn the green. But I hate it when I get the long drawn out story instead of a simple "Can you help me out?" In this case it involved a son (who has a great job!) a car accident, a 20 mile walk to the next town (not kidding - he actually said that), and some much needed cash to be spent on something purely altruistic, like medication or a kidney machine. And while this long, sad tale is being told, I could see the guys on the porch watching as if it was the last pitch of the ninth inning with bases loaded. I actually liked the old guy, and probably would have given him 5 bucks. But honestly, I don't really carry cash, so I didn't have any to give him, and I told him as much. At which point he cut to the chase and asked if we would go buy him a beer from the gas station. Yep - there it is. The real story. I told him "I'm going to take a pass" and he gave me kind of a funny look, stuck his hand out, wished us safe travels and walked in a direction other than back to the porch. My guess is they gave him a ration of **** for failing in gathering beer money.
Somewhat cooled off in the shade, and hydrated, we headed out for the last leg to Rapid City. That's not where we were staying. I had made arrangements to pick up a rental car from the airport because I had scheduled the 15k service to be done at Black Hills HD. My hope was to drop it off that evening and pick it up the following day. But we were running behind and I wasn't sure we would make the 6PM cutoff.
West of White River was more of the same - not much. Again, I'll restate that we enjoy "not much". It's part of what makes this country what it is. It also is the first thing we both think about when someone mentions the overcrowding. Clearly they haven't traveled off the beaten path much. We came across a couple dudes heading the other way on "adventure" bikes. They both gave us a hearty wave as they went by looking like astronauts. I've btdt so it's not a criticism. But I do recall being those guys and seeing someone on a Harley and thinking - "They look so comfortable. Maybe I'm doing this wrong." It's just too damn much crap to wear imo.
By this point in late afternoon it was REALLY REALLY hot. I didn't want to even look at the bike's thermometer, but eventually gave in to temptation. 102 degrees. Christ! I motioned to Cheryl to have a look. Her response was something along the lines of &^#$@! We kept goin under the hot sun and clear blue skies. More of the same nothing punctuated by a house here and there. Some nice and totally out of context with it's surroundings. Some that looked barely habitable, but with signs of life strewn about the yard amongst the dozen or so dead vehicle carcasses. Every so often I would check the thermometer - 103, 104. You could feel every degree of temperature increase exponentially. One degree of rise felt like ten. And we got to the point where we could tell when it was higher by one degree with certainty.
By the time it got to 106 degrees we were nearing the Badlands from the south. I've been there and seen it from the north. This was interesting to see it come into view from a distance and watch it get bigger and bigger. As hot as it was, with Badlands shimmering behind waves of heat it felt like we were in an old western. In this case we were the ones lost in the desert on a horse ready to collapse. Okay.....our horse was actually running just fine even in the heat and low octane gas. But you get the picture.
Before too long signs of tourism were popping up and even some clouds ahead. Some even looked dark. We would happily ride in the rain at this point. And the temps were dropping a bit. Obviously we were riding into a front. 103 degrees felt like a 70 degree spring day. By the time we got to the airport it was low 90s which felt cool. Strange how the body works sometimes.
Before long we made it the airport we definitely and looked out of place with our "biker gear" vs the tanned and rested look of the air travelers. We got setup with a rental car and set off for our digs in Sturgis. It was too late to drop off the bike, which was a disappointment, but not the end of the world. By now it was cloudy and sprinkling a little bit. I wasn't complaining. Cheryl followed me from the airport to the Holiday Inn Express (yes, another one) without incident. We got checked in, showered, and walked over to the Pizza Ranch I had eaten at a number of times. It had been a long day, but a good one. Even the heat made the trip interesting and gave us a topic of conversation over dinner. We made our plans to drop the bike off in the morning and I would go to my meeting sometime afterward. I wasn't sure how long it would take, so we left the day open.
Miles - about 500
Time - About 12 hours
Weather - clear and hot until the last hour of cool and wet. 70s to 106 degrees.
Ive taken the same route from 29 to the badlands a couple times, I like to stop for the night at the Snake Creek CG on the east side of the Missouri river, love the ride.
12-30-2017, 09:22 AM
