The best thing about South Dakota is Wyoming
Day 2, Sioux Falls to Sheridan
Day 2 started off with a bang–of thunder. The plan was again to get an early start, So we set the alarm for 5:30am. We woke to the alarm, along with thunderclaps and the sound of rain driving horizontally into our hotel window. After a very brief discussion, we hit the snooze and rolled over for another hour of sleep. By 7:30 the storm had passed, so we finally got up. After a yurmy free breakfast we were clean, fed, loaded and on the road. That’s when the real fun began.
The five hours spent driving across South Dakota were, well, unpleasant. I’ve devised a new formula — 1 gajillion Harley’s + 1 bajillion “Harley owners in big trucks trailering their antiquated money pits” + half a gajillion Goldwings + bridge repair projects every 15-30 miles = 1 Cluster Fuck. This brings a Second formula to mind: 1 Cluster-Fuck + 20-40 mph cross-winds + 93 deg F = a miserable Drew. At least it was nice to see the Goldwings were being pushed around every bit as much as I was by the wind. We were all listing at about 5-10 degrees; looked like a whole chain of sailboats.
I can’t begin to adequately describe the sheer number of people headed to Sturgis. I’m guessing that I-90 never gets this much traffic at any other time; this vast caravan likely provides enough money to keep the gas stations, eateries, and adult bookstores solvent all year. Yikes!
As we hit Rapid City, the wind was especially bad, and bikes were getting pushed all over the interstate. Things got especially hairy when I tried to pass a group of 4 Hardley’s that would not get out of the *()&)# passing lane, but would also not go faster than the posted limit. When I finally got an opening in the right lane and moved over, they all sped up to keep me from passing. Since they had already spread themselves out to cover two semi-lengths, I was only able to get past two of them before reaching the next slow trailer. I moved back into the passing lane; apparantly I pissed off the 60-year old greasy, lidless asshat on the ape-hanger’ed POS behind me, because as I kept a respectful distance in staggered formation behind the next ape-hanger’ed POS in front, the asshole behind me passes us in our lane. Ohhhhhh was I pissed. At the next possible opening I zoomed around all of them as they tried to pull the same trick; I think we hit 110. Leslie now agrees; she hates Hardley riders almost as much as I do.
We got lunch in Rapid City, and when my eyes finally re-hydrated, we gassed up and headed for the most-dreaded part–the actual ride through Sturgis. An enormous mass of testosterone, ego, and farting bikes seemed to form its own gravitational pull, and the closer we got the more Hardley’s appeared. However, this finally worked to our advantage. Once we punched through the center of mass, all the bikes were headed the other way, and the road really opened up. There were troopers *everywhere*, like jackals looking for the lame or wounded on which to pounce, but as long as I kept the speeds down everything was groovey. We hit the Wyoming border, and westbound traffic virtually vanished. Along with the wind. And the intensely boring scenery. Suddenly I was happy again to be motoring along, even if it was a super-slab. BTW, no pics today, but you’re not missing anything. Except Wyoming, which is a beautiful state. 
We finally got to our hotel in Sheridan around 8:00pm, and treated ourselves to a nice dinner and a bottle of vino in the hotel restaurant. Tomorrow we plan to make it somewhere in Montana; we thought that after two days of 600+ miles each day we’d be too tired to make it all the way to Great Falls (which would make today another 600 mile day), but now we’re considering doing just that. Have I mentioned that I love this freaking seat???