Sturgis (the Poem)

source - unknown

Every tramp in Scooterville loved Sturgis a lot.
But the Grinch who lived north certainly did not!
And so every August for 55 years,
Amid a great thunder and crunching of gears.
The tramps rode the black hills. Those pagans and trolls!

Like salmon returning again to their shoals.

And the Grinch would turn bitter as coffee turned cold...

Could not be approached, Would not be consoled...

The Grinch hated Sturgis! The whole Sturgis deal.

And if you ask why, that's the way he would feel.

Well It could be his attitude wasn't just right.

Or could it be his truss bound his buttocks too tight!

But I find the likeliest reason of all.

May have been that his balls were two sizes too small!

But whatever the reason - his truss or his balls,

The Grinch hated Sturgis. Hated it all...

Just hated those tramps with their swagger and airs.

And hard miles of pavement that showed in their stares.

Of storms in the mountains and wind on the plains,

or wrenching on roadsides in pouring down rains.

He hated those chicks with their pectorals bare.

And their T-back bikini's and tattoos like Cher!

He's seen all their pictures at home in his chair.

He's read Easyriders and wanted his share!!

Yes. the very word "Sturgis" would send Grinch on a tear.

But what irked him the worst was he couldn't be there!!

The Grinch cried to the sky. "Am I really to blame?

Can I help being frightened by rides in the rain?"

And he moaned and he whined. "Must I shoulder the shame"

And he grumbled and scoured his cowardly brain.

Until inspired. At last to him came…

I COULD TRAILER THE BIKE. WHY. ITS ALMOST THE SAME!!

And thusly encouraged, he returned to his town.

And called to trailer trash, “Gather ye round.”

For I've had Epiphany! Brothers take note.

You can trailer a bike like you trailer your boat!!

We'll park on the outskirts. Offload the machines.

And pretend that we rode. From. say. New Orleans!!!

So. the trash loaded trailers and cried. "What a hoot.

We'll dress up like bikers with leather and boots...

Festoon them with conchos and feathers and such!

So what do you think? Is an eye patch too much'!"

And they dialed up the A/C. and punched in the cruise.

Voila! Now to putt without the abuse.

The abuse that 2 wheels are rumored to give.

NO! We live to trailer and trailer to live!!

The trash swarmed to Black Hills. Their purpose well focused.

To drown the small town like a plague of cage locusts!

To balloon the run's turnout to three hundred grand!

Till the few real bikers had nowhere to stand...

And the Grinch grinned and giggled to see what he'd done -

Now Interstate 90 looked like 101!!

Now those tramps out of Scooterville were not so dim wilted.

They saw who was there and they saw who were fitted!!

So one said to the Grinch. Who are you fooling. Jack?

Your jeans reek of Downy. Your scoot's too imac!

But the Grinch grumbled back. Now it's OUR party too!

We invited ourselves just like you. Just show me the sign that says

"only some bum who rides a motorcycle is welcome to come."

"We'll load up our trailers and start our R.V,

and head for Laconia. Or Datona B.!

Now the tramp out of Scooterville was shaken aback.

No such sign had existed – had ever,    ...in fact.

Such things were unspoken - all part of the lore-

No such sign had been needed...needed before!!!

The tramps had conceded. Withdrew from the field...

The Grinch and his ilk were unwilling to yield.

And flooded down main street of Sturgis by night....

And by day lined the highways in lines our of sight....

The tramps knew the end of their era was nigh,

And a breeze be among them. A general sigh '

The tramp's spirit's were trampled, and a mist filled their eyes.

Till suddenly someone yelled "Wait, here comes Clive"

And the cycle lord moved thru the bikers downcast,

and boomed "Cheer up, brothers, we've not seen the last.

Of our noble degenerate lifestyle pass!!

Then Malcobn Clive popped a cold can of beer.

He stared at the Grinch with a leer and a sneer.

He shook his head slowly and hacked his throat clear.

Then preached brother Malcolm, "That's not why we're here!"

It's not for the pin or the patch or the gear!

It's not for the babes with tits out to here!

Okay, maybe the babes, Ahem,.. and the beer.

See the Sturgis we love doesn't happen in town!

Isn't drag pipes and paint jobs, or pulling tops down!

The Sturgis we love is always around...

It's the sunset you saw from a bike broken down.

It's the story you tell of the hail in Cheyenne.

The dust storm in Julesburg, the chill in Montan.

The town serves as merely a place we all go.

To tell stories to people, people who know...

To tell those road tales of deluge and drought.

To crazies who know what YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!!!

And, yes. There are trailers, and more every year,

And guys who just ride under skies crystal clear,

And pull into town in a Jeep Wagoneer...

And the sign may say "STURGIS"

""BUT THEY'VE NEVER BEEN

THERE!!!!""