Met Marty and Larry in Sundance, Wyoming, in front the Harley Davidson dealership. I came to Sundance after a long, windy ride over the state line from South Dakota. Larry asked me what I was riding, and I pointed to my Softail.
He asks, “How long you been riding.”
I answer, “Not long.”
He says, “Wear your leathers. That’s what they’re for. I know it’s hot. At least wear your jacket. Protect yourself.”
I say I will.
He asks, “Where you riding?”
I say, “To Spearfish Canyon.”
Marty walked out of the HD store, and Larry introduced us.
Larry says, “We’ll ride with you. We’ll get you to Deadwood.”
And it was settled. Marty and Larry flank me like bodyguards. We stop for blueberry pie and Arnold Palmers along the way. We ride to Deadwood, but then we continue on to Sturgis. We stop at Hot Leathers, and Larry buys me a Guardian Angel bell, tells me to put it on the bike when I get back to Minnesota. “Keep the road gremlins off your bike. Keep you safe.” We continue on to Rapid City, where I get help loading my scoot into the trailer (something I always struggled to do alone).
And so it was, my personal motorcade, watching me, guarding me, making sure I got back safe.
These are the brothers I met that day.
To more wild,