As we were leaving the campground, we saw a lot of this. I could go on another Harley discourse about getting all costumed up after trailering your bike to another gathering of trailered bikes (Live to Trailer, Trailer to Live?), but that would be belaboring a point, so instead I'll let Forbes do it.
A quote in case you're too lazy to click the link:
And Harley’s macho image was eroding as weekend warriors–accountants, doctors and other professionals playing a dress-up fantasy for a few hours a week–came to make up more and more of its ridership.
Once we got on the road, we saw more of this and it was tough to leave.
Then we got close to Granite Pass, driving along the Bighorn Scenic Byway. Seemed like a good idea at the time.
Then I saw this, and the map did not include the rain.
There were a few white knuckle moments, so the E350 may be getting some upgrades in the future.
I did manage to grab a few moments of incab footage, things got a little hairy in spots.
Next up - 'Merica.
One of us found our state,
we got the obligatory family shot in front of the mountain,
Kimberly found a fantastic spot for an uber-patriotic photo-op,
recalling this image of George being George, because that's how he would have wanted it.
After double digit hours on the road, the news that there were no more showings of the informational video (thus rendering the Junior Ranger questionnaire incomplete) was crushing. A few comforting moments under the watchful gaze of these famous leaders,
and it was back to business as usual.
Back on the road, we found a non-descript, right-next-to-the-highway campground that would serve as the starting point for the final leg of the trip. Staring down a 1020 mile day, things got quiet in here in a hurry.
Tomorrow - this.
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