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This is the weekend of The River Run, the big Harley gathering. You
have said this is not one of your favorite events either, Walt.
Yesterday I watched from the patio as motorcycles poured into town,
rounding the final bend in Hwy 95 from Needles, wave after wave of
them. 70,000 bikes and at least twice that number of people come
each year. Every casino's parking lot is filled with vendor tents,
leather goods, food, loud music, and endless rows of "hogs". The
back-rap of rumbling chrome pipes sound everywhere, like the
challenging snarls of great rutting beasties. Harley mamas straddle
the backs of the vibrating steeds with looks of defiant pleasure as
they cruise our dark-sided costume carnival of the wanna be hard-
assed. What a happening! Butt cracks and tattoos galore! It is two
hours before dawn, and I can still hear the constant drone of the
Harley pipes from Casino Drive, some four miles off. Tonight it will
reach fever pitch, hopefully without the gunplay of several years ago.
By Sunday afternoon, the valley will return to its summer quietude.
Yes, summer, it's in the nineties here already.
Wishing you the peace that passeth all understanding, Walt...without
motorcycle noise.
Jim