events
rallyrecap
The new guy in Billings By Ken Frick #199204
UNTIL I PURCHASED MY 2005 RT last fall I didn’t know an RT from an RL or a GS. In a world that’s racing ahead at Mach speed, I’m still a 20th century kind of person. My car, like my RT, has no GPS. I still use a flip phone. A decade or two ago, when my body started to change I upgraded to loose fit jeans, and now some of my cotton shirts have long sleeves for sun protection. Up until right about now, I’ve felt no need to really change. Much of the joy I
experience in life comes from being on two wheels. Being a photog- rapher, I look for the places between the start and the finish of a ride for the images that define my adventure, anything from the beauty I see around me to the things that give me pause or make me laugh. In the end, what really
matters is the miles. On the trip to the MOA Rally in Billings this year, I was alone and with few constraints. I could ride late and take a chance on a campground. Although I ate okay, in a pinch, trail mix did fine for the night’s dining. When I’m alone on my bike I keep things simple. Ride and ride. Feel the wind. It’s an adventure. No
need to explain that to you. My new bike was different from the
other two bikes I’d previously owned. When I first spotted my RT, I knew immediately it would be the last bike I’ll ever own. One ride, and the joy was back. Nothing about my first two
124 BMW OWNERS NEWS October 2015
bikes prepared me for the BMW culture. My blue jeans weren’t about to impress any- one in this lot. I’d never attended a rally of any kind. This I looked forward to. Billings was my intended destination, but
on all of my trips there’s always some sort of photography goal. I heard of a location in northern California that I thought might be a fun place to aim for, so I decided to head there after. At some point in South Dakota on my way to the rally, I started giving thought to going as far as I could, stopping
$300, and that was just the start. Nothing I’d ever worn required being plugged into a power source. Then there is the verbiage – what is a farkle? A pillion? So many riders stand on the foot pegs. Do Harley or Gold Wing riders share in any of this? You people must know something I don’t. The ride to Billings was pleasantly warm;
I avoided the worst of the rain along my path. I rode through Chicago and followed the Great River Road into Minnesota. Fur- ther west, I hit the Badlands and rode past many of the attractions in the Black Hills. In Billings, there was a lot to
In all of my many miles traveling across America I don’t believe I’ve seen a finer American flag display. It was heartwarming to see how proud the people here display their patriotism. The flags are flown at the Bayard De Hart Post 13 of the American Legion in Richland Center, Wisconsin.
just short of getting my tires wet, maybe crossing the Golden Gate Bridge. The fur- ther I rode the more I liked that idea. At 66 years of age it was time to grow up,
to make my life easier, to learn about my new bike and this culture, and to finally learn about synthetic fabrics and protective gear. Like many MOA members, I’ve ridden most of my life. My circle of friends doesn’t include many who ride Beemers, but those few who do are a different lot. They are rabid about their bikes in a way that borders on odd. Their trousers could cost over
learn. For three days I attended seminars and asked questions. I watched and listened. I filled pages with notes. I learned about basic repairs, dealing with flat tires, final drive bear- ings, and a lot on clothing, obviously one of my main rea- sons for attending. There was a class on anxiety, what we do to overcome the things stuck in our heads, and some idea of what it takes to ride to Alaska, one of my dreams. When I left I had a lot of information I needed to filter through. Nebraskan Al Roeder, a grizzled man and retired sci-
ence teacher with a long gray beard, camped near me at the rally. Along with the stories he shared came the one gentle scolding I received in Billings. Al didn’t much care for my cotton and let me know. A few years back he was hit from behind at highway speed, and hurled quite some distance. After rolling to a stop he told me he did the “wiggles test” to make certain everything still worked. Everything did, but his three month old BMW was trashed. He told me he was black and blue every- where. An emergency squad transported
Page 1 |
Page 2 |
Page 3 |
Page 4 |
Page 5 |
Page 6 |
Page 7 |
Page 8 |
Page 9 |
Page 10 |
Page 11 |
Page 12 |
Page 13 |
Page 14 |
Page 15 |
Page 16 |
Page 17 |
Page 18 |
Page 19 |
Page 20 |
Page 21 |
Page 22 |
Page 23 |
Page 24 |
Page 25 |
Page 26 |
Page 27 |
Page 28 |
Page 29 |
Page 30 |
Page 31 |
Page 32 |
Page 33 |
Page 34 |
Page 35 |
Page 36 |
Page 37 |
Page 38 |
Page 39 |
Page 40 |
Page 41 |
Page 42 |
Page 43 |
Page 44 |
Page 45 |
Page 46 |
Page 47 |
Page 48 |
Page 49 |
Page 50 |
Page 51 |
Page 52 |
Page 53 |
Page 54 |
Page 55 |
Page 56 |
Page 57 |
Page 58 |
Page 59 |
Page 60 |
Page 61 |
Page 62 |
Page 63 |
Page 64 |
Page 65 |
Page 66 |
Page 67 |
Page 68 |
Page 69 |
Page 70 |
Page 71 |
Page 72 |
Page 73 |
Page 74 |
Page 75 |
Page 76 |
Page 77 |
Page 78 |
Page 79 |
Page 80 |
Page 81 |
Page 82 |
Page 83 |
Page 84 |
Page 85 |
Page 86 |
Page 87 |
Page 88 |
Page 89 |
Page 90 |
Page 91 |
Page 92 |
Page 93 |
Page 94 |
Page 95 |
Page 96 |
Page 97 |
Page 98 |
Page 99 |
Page 100 |
Page 101 |
Page 102 |
Page 103 |
Page 104 |
Page 105 |
Page 106 |
Page 107 |
Page 108 |
Page 109 |
Page 110 |
Page 111 |
Page 112 |
Page 113 |
Page 114 |
Page 115 |
Page 116 |
Page 117 |
Page 118 |
Page 119 |
Page 120 |
Page 121 |
Page 122 |
Page 123 |
Page 124 |
Page 125 |
Page 126 |
Page 127 |
Page 128 |
Page 129 |
Page 130 |
Page 131 |
Page 132 |
Page 133 |
Page 134 |
Page 135 |
Page 136 |
Page 137 |
Page 138 |
Page 139 |
Page 140
