DREAMING OF SOUTH DAKOTA
BY TRUCKER/POET/ARTIST TREVOR HARDWICK
August is here, and to many truck drivers that means parking the big rig, firing up the scooter and pointing it toward Sturgis, South Dakota for the annual motorcycle rally. For the most part, we truck drivers have had a long standing kinship with bikers, perhaps because of our shared vision of what freedom of the road is really like. No matter what kind of truck you drive, or what type of bike you ride, I think that we all share a common thirst for what lies beyond the horizon and we like to rely on ourselves and our beloved machines to take us there (on two wheels or on eighteen). The small town of Sturgis only has a population of around 6,700 people, but in August, during the rally, the population swells to 500,000 plus! This year’s 68th annual rally is being held August 4-10, 2008. If you can’t make it to Sturgis, South Dakota this year, I hope you can relate to this poem about what it’s like to be stuck under a load when you’d rather be feeling the wind on your face. The pictures seen here, believe it or not, are of my mom and dad (AKA Smokey & Cheryl) riding to Sturgis in the early 1980s. My dad got the nickname “Smokey” from the fact that his bike smoked so bad that nobody ever wanted to follow behind him. Enjoy!
STURGIS ON MY MIND
By Trucker/Poet Trevor Hardwick
There’s a cool wind, that’s blowing in my face,
My air-conditioned Kenworth, is a cool and comfy place.
As the interstate rumbles, violently beneath me,
My mind takes me away, to somewhere else I’d rather be.
Right now I’m rollin’ southbound, 59 from Tennessee,
I’ve gotta hit I-20, then head west to Abilene.
I’m rollin’ with a feeling, and I’m makin’ damn good time,
But in my thoughts I’m headed off, to Sturgis in my mind.
I can almost feel the rattle, of my rigid knuckle-head,
On a two-lane, in the desert, where the rocks are painted red.
In the Badlands of the old Black Hills, an eagle flies above,
A symbol of our freedom, in this country that I love.
I imagine that I’m riding, with my knees out in the breeze,
I’ve got my woman on the back, and we’re doin’ as we please.
And really I’m just listening, to this Caterpillar whine,
But in my thoughts I’m headed off, to Sturgis in my mind.
The midnight August moon, is bouncin’ off my handlebars,
And the lack of city lights out here, intensifies the stars.
You can bet, I’ve got my band of brothers next to me,
There’s nothing like a scooter ride, to make a man feel free.
I long to hear that V-twin roar, up through a mountain pass,
Or hide-out from a hail storm, beneath an overpass.
I’ll pull my helmet off, at South Dakota’s state line sign,
As I’m headed off, in my thoughts, to Sturgis in my mind.
I’d love to be in Keystone town, or Mt. Rushmore tonight,
Instead of burnin’ diesel, showing off my chicken lights.
Or flyin’ across the Indian land, cracklin’ out a tune,
But I’ve got to be in Abilene, tomorrow afternoon.
Now if this poem finds you Roaddogs, riding on your Hogs,
I’ll be out here truckin’ somewhere, and cheatin’ on my logs.
But in my heart I’m right beside you, chasin’ that white line,
And headed off to Sturgis, South Dakota, in my mind.