Unfortunately Boots' girlfriend Pup's flight from Manchester, NH was canceled (effin' US Air - the worst airline in America in our humble opinion) on Friday morning five minutes before boarding and Pup didn't fly out until Saturday morning at oh-dark-thirty. It was a gorgeous Spring day in sunny Florida, 66 and the temps were climbing as we headed to the Daytona Beach Airport around 10:30. We were in the pick up truck cuz we were loaded down with our Dixie Biker gear to give away later in the day. I snapped the picture below on the the Seabreeze bridge headin' over to the Mainland from beachside.
Bikes are definitely beginnin' to out-number the cars, Below is the traffic comin' outta the east side of Daytona International Speedway -- the side with the Harley and Triumph demo ride set-ups and another entrance to the vendor area,
US Hwy 92 - International Speedway Blvd, intersection at the Volusia County Mall. Definitely not one of our country by-ways. We were headin' west on Hwy 92 to DeLand for their fourth annual Bike Rally. It's always held the first Saturday of Bike Week. Just west of I-95 is the turn off to Hwy 415 - Tomoka Farms Road (below). This is the route to the Daytona Flea Market and The Cabbage Patch. The waiting line at the light was at least a half mile long. Man. We just breezed by and continued on to DeLand, about twenty minutes west.
We got to DeLand and it was packed. Holy cow. They close off Hwy 17-92 - Woodland Blvd. and several side streets for motorcycle only parking and there were miles of bikes. (below). We found a convenient spot to park the truck in a bank parking lot, unloaded the wheel chair and moseyed over to the main drag ...
... and had no sooner stepped into the streets when we ran into friend Vic, from Casselberry, and his son Jake (below).
It was homecoming week for us cuz it seemed we couldn't walk six feet before another reader or friend or acquaintance was huggin' our necks, shakin' hands and sayin' "Hey, how y'all doin'?!" or"You're lookin' great~" or "Man, what a helluva day." Lotsa greetings and kind words about DBI, life and ridin'. Pretty cool, that's for sure.We stopped at a local bar's street side stand and got a couple of those cold ones in the icy aluminum cans. 16 ounce for three bucks - definitely a fair price - and enjoyed 'em as we strolled along checking out vendors, sayin' hey to folks and doin' what we do as we headed to the Main Stage area. The streets were packed, but folks are always accomodating to Boots' wheel chair for the strolling was easy and life was good.
At least until we got to the area in front of our new $300 million county courthouse. That's where the main stage was set up and the bike show and some more vendors. Boots and Pup hadn't finished their long necks and one of the event staff said, "You can't bring the beer in here."
"What?!?! There's no beer allowed?"
"No, you can have beer in there," he replied, "But it's gotta be County beer, not City beer. You can wait here and finish it, though. No need to throw it out."
Well, thanks for that. But he was just the messager, not the idiots that run the place. F*ckin' politicians. They'd screw up a wet dream. In the picture below, Boots and Pub are drinkin' their $3 "city" longnecks while the couple on the left are drinkin' their $3 "county" drafts.
Give me a break. And the political elitists wonder why we hate 'em so much. A**holes. They couldn't even agree on something simple and waive whatever rules or regulations are in place for one day so folks could enjoy the entire venue without some silly little BS like this. It's a shame because it's a great event, great people, great location, but then something petty like this is what folks will remember and talk about.
We had an adage in the Army that applies here: One "ah shit" over-rides ten "atta-boys."
Somewhere around here, my cell phone started vibratin' in my pants, I looked at the caller ID and saw that it was Lisa, owner of Trader Jack's Roadside. I answered, "Hey, Lisa, Wassup?"
"Monk! Holy Mackeral, We are slammed. I mean really, really slammed. I know the party's not supposed to start til 4 o'clock, but could you get here earlier? Folks are asking about you guys and they are ready to PARTY!"
"No problem! We'll be there in thirty minutes and are headin' back to the pickup now. See ya soon. Yee haw!"
So we beat feet back across town and Pup had Boots doin' wheelies and burn outs ...
... and passed this local bar doin' 'rip off' business on the side walk(and not selling too many beers, I might add) ...
... and passed this awesome little watering hole, jammed up at the tables and doin' brisk curbside sales of the same beers, only for three bucks ...
... and then I hadda pause to snap this what I call "Ya gotta love bikers pictures" a couple of spots over from our parking spot ...
... loaded up in the truck and headed North outta town on Hwy 17 for the five mile run up to Trader Jack's Roadside. About a mile south we noticed quite a group at one of our advertisers, Pinups Gentleman's Club, so we pulled in so Boots could pee, I could take a couple of pictures and shoot the breeze with folks, and Pup could pick up a little bottle of Mr. Cuervo for the flask (they have a package store, as well).
Turns out the group, outta Ocoee, had stopped in on their way up to Trader Jack's Roadside for our DBI Party. "I was leading the group and knew I recognized the place from one of the ads in Dixie Biker," Mike told me. "Figured we'd stop in and check it out. Nice strip club. Friendly as hell and like you told us in the story - $3 for a long neck. At a titty bar. Wow."
They rolled out on to Hwy 17 for the mile trip up to Trader Jack's Roadside (above and below) ...
... and we were right behind them. As we crested the hill and started back down, off in the distance was the glitter of lots of chrome. "Holy shit!" exclaimed Pup from the back seat. "Look at all those bikes. It's only 2:20!" Yep, there were lotsa bikes. And where ya find lotsa bikes ya know what else ya find? Lotsa bikers! And when you find lotsa bikers know what you're gonna get? One helluva good time ...
To be continued!
At least until we got to the area in front of our new $300 million county courthouse. That's where the main stage was set up and the bike show and some more vendors. Boots and Pup hadn't finished their long necks and one of the event staff said, "You can't bring the beer in here.""What?!?! There's no beer allowed?"
"No, you can have beer in there," he replied, "But it's gotta be County beer, not City beer. You can wait here and finish it, though. No need to throw it out."
Well, thanks for that. But he was just the messager, not the idiots that run the place. F*ckin' politicians. They'd screw up a wet dream. In the picture below, Boots and Pub are drinkin' their $3 "city" longnecks while the couple on the left are drinkin' their $3 "county" drafts.
Give me a break. And the political elitists wonder why we hate 'em so much. A**holes. They couldn't even agree on something simple and waive whatever rules or regulations are in place for one day so folks could enjoy the entire venue without some silly little BS like this. It's a shame because it's a great event, great people, great location, but then something petty like this is what folks will remember and talk about.We had an adage in the Army that applies here: One "ah shit" over-rides ten "atta-boys."
Somewhere around here, my cell phone started vibratin' in my pants, I looked at the caller ID and saw that it was Lisa, owner of Trader Jack's Roadside. I answered, "Hey, Lisa, Wassup?""Monk! Holy Mackeral, We are slammed. I mean really, really slammed. I know the party's not supposed to start til 4 o'clock, but could you get here earlier? Folks are asking about you guys and they are ready to PARTY!"
"No problem! We'll be there in thirty minutes and are headin' back to the pickup now. See ya soon. Yee haw!"
So we beat feet back across town and Pup had Boots doin' wheelies and burn outs ...
... and passed this local bar doin' 'rip off' business on the side walk(and not selling too many beers, I might add) ...
... and passed this awesome little watering hole, jammed up at the tables and doin' brisk curbside sales of the same beers, only for three bucks ...
... and then I hadda pause to snap this what I call "Ya gotta love bikers pictures" a couple of spots over from our parking spot ...
... loaded up in the truck and headed North outta town on Hwy 17 for the five mile run up to Trader Jack's Roadside. About a mile south we noticed quite a group at one of our advertisers, Pinups Gentleman's Club, so we pulled in so Boots could pee, I could take a couple of pictures and shoot the breeze with folks, and Pup could pick up a little bottle of Mr. Cuervo for the flask (they have a package store, as well).
Turns out the group, outta Ocoee, had stopped in on their way up to Trader Jack's Roadside for our DBI Party. "I was leading the group and knew I recognized the place from one of the ads in Dixie Biker," Mike told me. "Figured we'd stop in and check it out. Nice strip club. Friendly as hell and like you told us in the story - $3 for a long neck. At a titty bar. Wow."
They rolled out on to Hwy 17 for the mile trip up to Trader Jack's Roadside (above and below) ...
... and we were right behind them. As we crested the hill and started back down, off in the distance was the glitter of lots of chrome. "Holy shit!" exclaimed Pup from the back seat. "Look at all those bikes. It's only 2:20!" Yep, there were lotsa bikes. And where ya find lotsa bikes ya know what else ya find? Lotsa bikers! And when you find lotsa bikers know what you're gonna get? One helluva good time ...
To be continued!
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1 comment:
Having lived in central Florida for over 20 years and attended more than a few rallies at Daytona. I prefer Delands above Daytona Beach. Great atmosphere, good food, shops, less crowded (sure to change) and great event staffers. Sorry I missed the opportunity to get a hand shake but there's always next year! I'll post some pics on my blog, when you have a few, check um out.
Ride Safe!
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