FUN Runs

In July 2003 a small group of friends gathered in the parking lot of Broadway at the Beach. It was the first of hopefully many FUN RUNs. From Myrtle Beach, the first leg travels the still uncrowded highways 31 and 22, heading east to Aynor. The same roads the guys from American Chopper: The Series can be seen riding on the Myrtle Beach episode. It's about a 45-minute ride with the last leg taking you down a scenic country two-lane into the back door of the sleepy little town of Aynor, South Carolina for the official starting point. The FUN RUNs are co-hosted by Greasy's Hot/Bike Street Chopper, a new bike sales and service shop that had their Grand Opening during the Spring Rally this year.

Still an undiscovered treasure to many, Greasy's is a biker's paradise. The minute you walk through the door your heart starts pounding at the sea of chrome and leather. They have everything from $3 can huggies to $45,000 custom-built choppers. There are bolt-on goodies by Arlen Ness, Harley Davidson, and Chrome Specialties, apparel by Hot Bike/Street Chopper, Harley, & Dragonfly, and an awesome mix of motorcycles including 49.5 HP Pagsta "Mini-Harlees", pre-owned Harleys of all shapes, sizes and degrees of modification, and custom-builds from rolling frames to ready-to-roll. If the ride ended here it would be worth the trip, but there's more.

At Greasy's, riders from the beach have enough time to stretch their legs, to shop, to dream, and to ogle. As others drift in the crowd starts to grow, friendly smiles and introductions are exchanged, and new friendships are born. Soon enough we drift out to the parking lot and it's time to ride some more. The destinations vary, but the plan is always lunch, and by the time we get wherever we're going we're hungry.

So far the ride has taken us to HD Spokes in Little River and to the Georgetown waterfront via the beautiful South Carolina back roads. We make it a point to avoid the major roads and the traffic whenever possible. There's no charge for the ride, but everyone buys their own lunch. The ride has quickly grown from only 6 bikes to over 35 as the word gets out and people start bringing more friends.

With the numbers climbing we're looking forward to adding raffles for tee-shirts and other cool stuff, and being able to help support some of the local charities, without asking anyone to cough up the $20-$30 entry fees often involved in a Poker Run. If you want to buy a handful of tickets or a new chopper, that's great. If you don't, you can have a great time with a great bunch of people for the cost of a burger.

Everyone is welcome so to be sure you get the details about the next FUN RUN, go to www.RideMyrtleBeach.com and sign up for our newsletter. You'll get a monthly email newsletter with great information about new products, tips, jokes, and places to hang out, plus, our Event Alerts letting you know ahead of time when we're headed on the next FUN RUN. (You're email address will not be used for anything else.) We're looking forward to seeing YOU!

If you have a restaurant or other business that you would like us to visit, please send Big-E a "Big-Email" at RoadKing@RideMyrtleBeach.com. For a closer look at Greasy's and for details about the big swap meet Oct. 1-5, please visit the shop at 2604 Hwy 501 in Aynor or go to their website at www.Greasys.com.

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In July this year my dad, Billy, called and said he was toying with the idea of riding to Sturgis and back, "just to check it out".

We left knowing this ride would not be about the Rally itself. It would be about getting on our Harleys and riding ourselves ragged…together. It would be about sharing the road with our fellow bikers to "The Motorcycle Mecca", Sturgis, South Dakota during the annual Black Hills Rally. It would be a test of our patience, our endurance, our riding skills, and our motorcycles. Most of all, it would be a chance to say "My dad and I…" and "My son and I…" It wouldn't set any time or distance records, but for my dad who is 72 and me with my longest ride to date being about 450 miles to Daytona, it was a challenge, and we were up to it.

We had the good fortune of being able to join up with some old and new friends, tagging along on their family ride. I'd be remiss if I didn't say their company made the ride even better than we had hoped for. In September we're all planning another trip to North Carolina's "Rally in the Valley". That will be my wife Sissy's first road trip on her new Harley, and another journey full of new memories.

Rather than trying to recount each day of this ride, I'd like to just share some of the highlights and some of the memories.

First and foremost, there was the corn. Our route took us through Ohio, Indiana, Missouri and to capture it in a word…"corn". We even stopped at a local shrine called "The Corn Palace".

Then there was "the day". Every long trip holds the possibility for bike problems. Ours struck Scott and Cindy, our faithful guides. My dad and I were riding at the back of the line of seven motorcycles when all of the turn signals in front of us came on unexpectedly and we pulled of on the shoulder. I had not noticed the exhaust pipes ahead that slid across the interstate and now lay steaming in the median a half-mile back, somewhere in the tall grass. A 'search party' was able to recover them and they were reinstalled, still hot, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. By the end of the day, the bike had also suffered an oil leak and dead taillight. We all realized though that when the pipes fall of the bike in front and miss everyone in formation behind…well, that's a happy ending.

Making up time, my dad and I set one-day, personal distance records of 617 miles. That record would soon be broken. 600 miles in a day was no longer going to impress either one of us.

One of the most rewarding rides was on Highway 2 nearing our destination. After a lot of hard riding we all agreed to abandon the interstate and spend a day riding a small two-lane through farm country. The hills were rolling, the scenery was everything that makes you proud to be an American, and at the end of the day all I could say was, "That is why I bought a motorcycle."

We finally made it to our destination, Rapid City, just outside Sturgis. We checked in to our hotel with our heads held…well, with our heads still on our sunburned necks above our weary shoulders, stiff backs and saddle-sore butts. Tonight, there would be no wild party. We ate dinner, had a drink, made a morning plan, and basically passed out.

Revitalized (sort of) and knowing our time was limited; we rose early, saddled up and headed to Main Street, Sturgis, South Dakota. We stopped at the Harley dealer (new shirts for family and friends), checked out a few vendors and bikes, and headed to the Convention Center knowing we had just accomplished something special. We stopped to get our H.O.G. pins commemorating the event, checked out the '04 bikes and a few trailers (which were looking pretty good by this time), grabbed lunch, and headed to the hills.

A nice change of pace from the flat, straight, highways we had spent the last 4 days traveling, we rolled through the foothills to sit in the shadows of our forefathers: Mt. Rushmore. There's not a lot my dad hasn't seen and it brought me great pleasure to know that we shared this first for both of us. We passed on the $8 parking, got a roadside picture with a hundred other bikers, and headed back to the hotel to rest and refuel our bikes and bodies for the ride home early the next morning.

For days we dodged the bugs, the tractor trailers and the rain, kept each other in sight, the Gatorade coming, and the bikes pointed east. At one point we treated our bodies to a night in the hot tub and the pool. We shared a few more laughs, a lousy dinner, and then a couple good ones. We pushed on and before you know it my mind was slipping back to things like work and laundry, and how much time it was going to take to get the bike clean. Our ride was almost over. I was tired, hungry, sunburned, homesick…and really, really proud. Proud of myself, proud of my dad, proud of us both.

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The simple field behind the Rat Hole was transformed, as owners "Ratt" Weaver and "Buster" Brown (see what I mean about the names?) assured me it would be, into a rodeo arena. People were riding by on horseback, bulls, and calves stood ready in their pens, pickups and horse trailers filled the background, and the air was filled with the unmistakable aroma of livestock. We had stepped off of the beach and into the Wild West. (Or maybe the "Mild West" since this was a great event for the whole family.)

Outside the ring there were giant slides, face painting, pony rides, and the night was capped off with a Cowboy Dance, complete with a line dancing demonstration.

Inside the ring was a full-fledged rodeo with bucking broncos, steer wrestling, barrel racers, team roping and bull riding, as well as a hilarious show featuring monkeys riding dogs (that's right-monkeys riding dogs) herding sheep.

Entrants came from all over, including a few local favorites from South Carolina. Even audience members were encouraged to participate, and were truly the stars of the funniest event all night. First, the kids were brought into the ring and a calf wearing a ribbon on its tail was released. The object: Chase the calf, grab the ribbon, and win a prize. The real laughs, however, came when all of the mothers who just delivered their unsuspecting boys and girls to the free-for-all were brought back into the ring to do it themselves. After seeing what these women were willing to do, I decided I would rather tangle with the biggest, baddest bull they had than to stand between a mom-on-a-mission and her gift bag. The whole night was great. Consider this rodeo "Big E tested and approved".

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In the past year I have been fortunate enough to have ridden in the Myrtle Beach Spring and Fall Rallies and TO Daytona's Spring Bike Week and Sturgis' Black Hills Rally. Simply put, it's just not a fair fight. Comparing Maggie Valley's rally to the others is like comparing the High School State Championship football game to the Super Bowl.

In perspective, it had everything you need for a good rally. There were tee shirts, a bike show, vendors, a poker run, and other special events. The rally itself could not hold a candle to the national rallies, but I can honestly say it is one you should try to make.

Unlike the thousands of miles of flat corn fields leading to Sturgis or the white-knuckled, tractor-trailer-washed Interstate 95 route I took to Daytona Beach, the trip from Hendersonville, NC where we stayed to Maggie Valley made the whole weekend worth it. The weather could not have been better. We traveled some great mountain roads through the woods, passing waterfalls and bubbling creeks, and enjoying scenic overlooks and mountain vistas through the Pisquah National Forest. The ride was challenging, but not scary, although I wouldn't recommend the Pisquah route to a beginner. You had to pay enough attention to stay on the road, but you could still glance away long enough to appreciate the scenery. There were plenty of fellow riders on the road and the locals really impressed me by literally pulling off the road to let us pass when they had traffic backed up behind them on the winding roads.

The riding was great, the rally was close enough we didn't have to break the bank or cash in a bunch of vacation time, and best of all we got to stay free with my parents in their duplex about an hour away spending time with my them and our close friends, the Coopers, who my dad and I joined on their ride to Sturgis.

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The ride began at the Myrtle Beach Harley-Davidson dealership and ended up at Darlington Raceway. Over 300 riders made the trip from Myrtle Beach to the Williams Travel Center in Florence, South Carolina where we were joined by even more motorcycles, bringing the total number to almost 450 participants. Despite having the original group broken into several groups thanks to our "invisible escort"-the police were supposed to help us through the traffic lights, but I never saw the first one-we managed to reform and ride to the track in one large group.

We streamed in together right on to the race track where we formed several lines beginning at the Start/Finish line. After a few announcements and a little organization (we were broken into two groups) the real fun began.

Big, hairy, grown men turned into giggling little boys as we were allowed to take a few laps on our motorcycles around the track. We followed the Pace Car who was traveling at a "safe speed", but it didn't take anyone long to figure out that if you slowed down long enough to let the leaders creep away from you that you "needed to" hit the throttle to "catch up". The track is 1.33 miles long and there are up to 25 degree banks in the corners, and 1,229-foot long front and back stretches.

It goes without saying, everyone got a huge kick out of pretending to tame what they call "The Track Too Tough to Tame".

The Headhunters had a decent following spanning at least three generations. The turnout was good, but not crowded. I would categorize them as an "Ohhhhh Yeah Band". You know; the kind of band where you recognize their name but might not be able to name any of their songs until when they take the stage and start singing. That's when you go, "Ohhhhhh yeah, I know that song."

The Headhunters have been around a while so you would likely recognize many of their hits like Dumas Walker (Let's all gooooooo down ta' Dumas Walker's…") and Oh Lonesome Me.

Stepping off the bus, they looked a lot like most of the bands you might catch at a biker bar. Another in the long line of southern rockers a little past their prime, no longer comprised of the original members. They seemed to have their core and a sense of humor about it though, joking that fans' cameras make break as they appreciatively and patiently posed with them for pictures.

The biggest surprise came, however, once the lights came up and the music started. These guys are good! Not that I was expecting them to be bad, but they truly had one of the most polished sounds I've ever heard at a live performance. No glaring flat notes, no compensatory growling because they don't have the vocal range they used to. They even played through a couple of electrical problems and laughed it off as the crowd cheered to show their approval. This group was professional and was not going to let a few stage glitches get in their way. They were pros and they put on a good show.

The opening act was a band called "Silver", who also did well, and the two stages at HD Spokes made the timing and transition between the two shows a lot less of a hassle than most places where there's usually a painfully long delay waiting for the technicians to set up, tune instruments, and do mic checks for the headliners.

The final concert for this year's series is Confederate Railroad, with a fireworks display, on November 29th. Nanette at HD Spokes said they are planning to run another concert series next year.