MY NAME is Lindsey. I live on the beautiful Gold Coast. I am a gyprocker which keeps me busy.
Been riding my Harley for more than a year and half now. It’s a 1200 Custom Harley-Davidson Sportster.
I changed all the usual things to my bike. Burleigh Bars made me some good comfortable bars so now I ride with comfort. Riding for me clears my mind.
I was always into dirt bikes; never into road bikes or Harleys. I remember as a child hearing the roar of a Harley up the highway; never thinking that one day I would be riding in a pack and being apart of the thunder. I went on the back of a Harley once and hated the wind in my face — but something made me want to be in control and ride with the roar between my legs; oh, and of course, wear a face mask since I hate the wind in my face. I ride solo seated as I don’t think I will ever want the reasonability of another in my hands.
My biggest experience was going to the USA and riding to Sturgis. We started the trip in LA and took Highway 101 along the coast heading to San Francisco.
Our first night stay was at Morro Bay State Park. We set up our swags in the middle of no-where. There were the signs to say beware of mountain lions, and I was laying’ in my swag, thinking, “Geeze, I hope they don’t smell food on me.”
Our next ride was on Highway One. The old coast road was freezin’ and this was the middle of summer. I mean, I had two hoodies, two thermals, and a huge jacket on. The Highway was curvy with pretty much cliff-side all the way. I remember one bridge that we rode across and the wind sent us sideways.
We stopped at Cambria where there were thousands of sea lions on the beach. They fight most of the time and there was blood everywhere.
The next day we hit Santa Cruz. This is such a pretty surf town; relaxed people riding bikes and skating around.
Back on the road and off to San Francisco and hills galore. Alcatraz, clam chowder, Golden Gate Bridge; this is the windy city.
We hit Highway Four. 10 thousand feet high with enough road for one car, no barricades, beautiful views, and lakes high in the sky. This is one of those roads you ride once in your lifetime and never forget it.
We carried on to Reno where we spent three nights relaxing at the Hot August Night Hod Rod Show.
Geez, we became accustomed to stopping and falling over. It came to a point to see if Sket, me, or Nicole was dropping their bike the most. It was a good laugh. Lucky for crash bars and black nail polish.
We hit the road for Elko. We were now starting to see a lot of fellow riders heading to Sturgis.
We made it to the famous Yogi Bear Yellowstone National Park. What a ride up those mountains to Old Faithful!
We spent the night in Yellowstone. When we arrived, they said the park was full. I asked how many people to a campsite; they said six. So as a guy rode in, I said, “Look, there’s David, our friend. We can bunk on his site.”
“Fine,” they said and let us in.
And so we met some Dutch people who cargo their bikes over from Holland. They said we could camp with them — toasted marshmallows and bears galore.
The next morning I needed gas so I rode ahead. I came to a bridge with three buffalos blocking the way. These are big in real life. Not knowing what to do, I rode slowly past. It took hours for the next part of the trip; there was buffalos everywhere.
We arrived at Billings; one more sleep to Sturgis.
We stopped at Deadwood, an old historical town made famous by Old Bill Hickok and Calamity Jane. At this point we were seeing thousands of every bike you could ever imagine seeing.
We rode down the main street of Sturgis — no traffic lights, every stop sign you stop at, your clutch is in permanently — thousands of bikes in every direction.
Buffalo Chip campsite — what a party place — is where we met up with our fellow Australians. Bands, drags, beer and partying; girls barely covering their nipples; bikes as far as you can see.
Leaving Sturgis behind, we rode to Mt Rushmore and on to Rock Springs before our massive ride in the dessert heat to Las Vegas. You can’t drink enough fluid to keep you hydrated. It was like having an oven on high blowing in your face; a hair dyer couldn’t reach that heat.
After my trip to Sturgis, I have more experience than I could have gotten from riding over the next 10 years. I rode 13 thousand feet high roads. I was hit by hail, had two sets of tumbleweeds hit me, had a bird drive over my windshield and nearly hit me in the face. I rode through water at the bottom of Yellowstone, to riding the hottest heat. I like to thank Sket and Nicole for teaching me how to become a better rider.
I did this trip from getting my Sportster to crashing the first time I rode her, to having six weeks of not touching her to learning to ride again. My accident made me forget how to ride; although I had my dirt bike, it was different.
I would like to build my own bike one day; more of a bobber.
I have a few tattoos. All have a meaning to me as a child, or something that has happened to me, or I have loved in my life. I got hurt tattooed inside my hand and two days later I crashed my bike. I have ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ and’ Jiawen’, my daughter; ‘LA’, my initials, in a heart grenade; rat fink for my love of hot rods; ‘sonrisa’ on my knuckles which means smile; a pirate leg for the life of a pirate who didn’t care and roamed free; I have a ‘senorita’ on my arm with ‘V-Twin’ and ‘live-to-ride’ in Spanish; and a lot more…
Pics by Jules @ Top Gun; words by Lindsey