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| Biketoberfest 2013 |
I haven’t had this much fun in Daytona in years; its always better when you take a virgin.....as in ‘someone who has never been to a Daytona Bike Event.’
Biketoberfest is one Bike Event that I genuinely look forward to all year; the weather in Central Florida is approaching perfect in October and this event is significantly smaller than the Mother-Of-All-Bike-Events, Bike Week in March. It makes for a more ‘intimate’ experience, if you can consider 150,000 fellow bikers intimate.
I invited my partner Paul down to Daytona to enjoy Biketoberfest with me; he took two days vacation from his annual hunting trip...so it must be love, right?! I burned two tanks of gas in the OPPOSITE direction of Daytona, to connect with him in Richmond Hill...so it must be love, right?! We enjoyed a chilly, fog-shrouded ride on one of the best ‘backroads’ in Georgia/Florida - SR17 - as we headed south last Thursday morning. SR17 is one of those roads ‘time-has-forgotten.’ It now rests comfortably in the shadow of Interstate 95 where traffic Hauls Ass, everyone anxious to ‘get there.’ I prefer those roads time has forgotten; we meandered through woods and pastureland, passed the little Mom and Pop no-tell motels that dot the roadside, most of which no longer beckon legitimate travelers, but welcome crack addicts and almost homeless vagabonds who just need a ‘place.’ The kind of back road that is dotted sporadically with makeshift stands touting boiled peanuts, homemade peach jam, and alligator jerky.
The serenity of SR17 is interrupted temporarily with the need to ‘get around’ Jacksonville. The loop- I295 - around the east side is the most scenic - we love BRIDGES, big, expansive, tall, windy, potentially scary BRIDGES! Fabulous view of the J’ville port and the last of the ‘low-country’ from the pinnacle of the bridge that spans the river.
I wanted Paul to enjoy a ride along the coast - there are very few places left in Florida where you can actually do that - so we cut over to A1A just south of Jacksonville...big mistake! The coastal areas of Florida have gotten so terribly crowded; too much traffic and too little scenery. We chug through traffic at a snail’s pace down A1A to St. Augustine; the area is already thick with bikers. Wind our way around the old fort that sits on the waterfront and attracts a ton of tourists. We disentangle ourselves from the traffic on A1A and cut back over to I95, willing to Haul Ass to Daytona with the throng of traffic headed south.
Long before you ‘see’ Daytona, you ‘hear’ Daytona. I love the sound of 150,000 bikes converging on a few square miles for four days of fun and debauchery. I suppose if I were a NASCAR fan, it would be the same thing as I arrived in Daytona for a racing event. Careful of your ‘speed’ though, during a bike event, police are ever-vigilante and intent on making your Daytona experience a safe one.
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| Eddie Trotta Custom Indian |
Our destination was the brand spanking new Hampton Inn directly on the beach a few blocks from Main Street...could it get much better than that?! Swimming pool, hot tub, fire pit, miniature water park (it was for the kids, but there being very few small children there this weekend, it went unappreciated. More than once during the weekend, I imagined myself playing uninhibited in the sprinkling fountains) and a balcony overlooking all of it. We settled in quickly, gave a quick look at all the amenities with a promise to return to the hot tub later, then headed out to the track to check out the vendors. The Daytona track is legendary within NASCAR; it is a leviathan that occupies a significant amount of real estate just off I95 and International Speedway Drive. During a Bike Event, vendors and entertainment are set up outside the 2.5 mile tri-oval track. We parked the bikes and walked up and down the aisles, checking out everything from leather halters to high end communication gear...not to mention the sexy bikes of Eddie Trotta fame (I was fortunate enough to meet him two years ago and had my picture taken with him). Late in the afternoon, we both realized how much sun we had gotten on the ride south from Richmond Hill Georgia...I was ‘fried’ crispy, and felt like a tourist...we headed back to the Hampton , (but not before a quick stop at the Crazy Horse Pub for a good burger ), to enjoy the hot tub and regroup.
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| Froggy's Main Street Daytona |
Thursday night was a great time to enjoy Main Street; the crush of bikers doing the Main Street Shuffle had not yet descended on the five blocks of downtown Daytona for the Mayhem. We parked at my favorite spot...the Christian Bikers Association....five bucks and they take real good care of your bike...not to mention their always cheerful attitude. Main Street Daytona is a cacophony of sound and a cornucopia of smells; there is a band on every corner and music spilling out of every doorway, coupled with the smells of food/beverage vendors that litter the sidewalks, it is an assault on the senses! We elbow our way into the Bank and Blues to enjoy my favorite bluesman - Selwyn Birchwood. Paul decides he wants a cigar (yes, I’ve corrupted him already in the short time we have been together) and we find a delightful cigar shop tucked in between the shop selling corsets and the tattoo parlor (where two Katy Perry wannabes are holding a sign saying ‘show us your tats’). I protest, but only mildly, because I’ve developed a fondness for those little Tatiana Chocolate cigars, as Paul buys two ‘to go.’ Next stop - Froggy’s, where scantily clad women dance to loud, throbbing music atop what looks like mini-boxing ring stages elevated several feet off the slick-with-beer asphalt floor. Yeah, good times. We enjoy our Chocolate Tatiana’s while watching the debauchery that only Froggy’s can offer (http://froggyssaloon.net) .
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| 'Selfie' |
Friday morning dawned bright and early; I was eager to show Paul ‘The Loop’ and actually be able to ride along A1A between Daytona and Flagler Beach (http://www.motorcycleroads.com/75/154/Florida/The-Daytona-Loop.html) . It is the one small slice of the old coastal highway where you can cruise along, unfettered by traffic, and enjoy the view of the Atlantic. The stretch through the Tomoka River State Park is Florida at its best; palms curve gently out over the river and the road winds through giant oaks and cypress - thick with hanging moss - thrusting the traveler into deep shade, a shield against the harsh sun. We leave the cool sanctuary of The Loop and arrive at Rossmeyers’ place just off 95; the worlds largest Harley Davidson and the brilliant vision of a giant of a man - Bruce Rossmeyer - who ironically lost his life a few years back on his way to Sturgis Bike Week. It is a beehive of commercial activity; an estimated $21 million will be spent by bikers this weekend in Daytona, I’m guessing a large portion of that is spent at Rossmeyers (http://www.brucerossmeyer.com).
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| Iron Horse Saloon |
There are certain venues at Daytona that can only be appreciated after dark (and some that should never be visited after dark - at least not without a weapon) and the Iron Horse Saloon is one of them (http://www.ironhorse-saloon.com) . The Iron Horse is Old Skool Biker at its best; greasy leather, David Allen Coe, bad tats, Smokey Mountain Moonshine is served, and the motto is ‘ride all day, drink all night.’ Let me clarify that I don’t drink and I’m not an advocate of riding and drinking....in any order. The rickety boardwalk built above the dirt arena, gives one a great view of the calamity below. We were not there ten minutes before we watched an altercation brew below us; the couple in question jumped on his bike, roared out of the lot with a security escort....and she promptly stood up on the back of his bike, pulled down her jeans and mooned everyone...classy. And I’ve never been at the Iron Horse when I would consider the musical talent ‘good.’ I guess if you are imbibing with the Smokey Mountain Moonshine, anything sounds ‘good.’ Make sure you stop at the River Grille on the scenic Tomoka River for dinner before or after your visit to the Iron Horse - http://www.rivergrille.net - the fish reuben was to die for!
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| Cabbage Patch Biker Bar |
Saturday was just slap, flat out, full.......we rode to Ponce Inlet to see the lighthouse, across the river and down to New Smyrna Beach, looped back around and headed out 44 to The Cabbage Patch, which is another Daytona destination that is classic, Old Skool Biker at its best...and one place I will NOT go after dark - weapon or no weapon (http://www.cabbagepatchbar.com ). So we hit it in broad daylight, which can be scary enough. Cabbage Patch is iconic and is famous for its Coleslaw Wrestling...the bigger the women, the better the wrestling. I was content to enjoy another Chocolate Tatiana, my partner, the music, and the people watching. I made my partner promise that if I ever started looking as saggy and haggard as some of the women sporting leather halters, he would gently suggest that I might want to wear something else. I am guilty of dressing completely inappropriate when on the bike, but I like to think I maintain a small degree of ‘class’ in the process. It was back across the Intracoastal and down to the whimsical little hamlet of Wilbur-by-the-Sea for a late lunch at Boondocks' (http://www.boondocks-restaurant.com), One of my favorite places to eat in the Daytona area; although we both agreed, the fish reuben was not nearly as tasty as the one we had at the River Grille. Lots of miles on the bikes today and I am thoroughly pleased with my recent boot purchase, they are knee high and do an excellent job of keeping the heat from the cc off my right leg.
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| Main Street Daytona |
After enjoying the ocean and another relaxing hour in the hot tub, we switched gears again and joined the fray on Main Street Saturday Night....nothing like it, anything goes and we went right along with it. I love my partner for his corruptibility...we snagged a couple more Chocolate Tatiana’s and headed up Main Street to the Boardwalk. We spent an idyllic eve sitting along the beach, just far enough away from the noise of Main Street, in the soft glow of a full moon on the water, and the sounds of reggae coming from Joe’s Crab Shack out at the end of the pier....it just doesn’t get much better than that.
Sunday morning came way too early.....alas, one of us had a ten hour ride ahead of them....and we departed early, into a chilly fall morning along the coast, a virgin no more. We came, we say, we did it all.....parting is such sweet sorrow...until we meet again.
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