Riding America on a 1984 Harley-Davidson Sportster

It was the summer of 1984. I was riding my Harley-Davidson FLH to California with my wife at the time, on one of our many road trip adventures. We stopped in Flagstaff, Arizona and visited the local Harley shop, mostly because we were always looking for more oil for the bike. As I walked in the front door, they were using a new black XLX Sportster for a doorstop to keep the front door open.

I asked about that Sportster and they informed me that Harley had just come out with this XLX, and for a promotional price of $3495. I decided on the spot I would like to have one of those. So I gave them $100 to hold it and we continued on our trip to California then up the Pacific Coast Highway. After our return home to Southeast Texas, I contacted my credit union and made the arrangements to buy that Sportster back in Flagstaff. I also put in for more vacation.

My 1984 Harley-Davidson XLX Sportster.

I decided that this would be a great opportunity to ride from Flagstaff to Sturgis, South Dakota and to attend the annual rally. So at the beginning of August I flew from Houston to Flagstaff where the dealership guys picked me up at the airport. They took me to the shop where the little Sportster was ready to go, and I strapped my sleeping bag to the handlebars, got a free T-shirt, then took off north, making for Colorado.

I rode for a couple of hours until dark and I was tired of traveling all day, so I pulled off the side of the road and threw the sleeping bag on the ground to get some sleep. However, I soon discovered some little bugs similar chiggers. They drove me crazy most of the night, but I think I did get a little rest. The next day I rode to Durango, then up to Million Dollar Highway and on to somewhere south of Grand Junction.

One of the many rides with the constantly modded/upgraded Sporty.

I stopped at a roadside rest area for a smoke. As I was standing there, three guys on Harleys came roaring up with loud pipes and shut their bikes off. They were a scruffy bunch, and I wasn’t quite sure where this was going as they walked up to me, so I offered them a smoke. I discovered that they were Hells Angels riding from Oakland, California on the way to Sturgis, South Dakota for the rally. I told them that’s where I was headed also and we seemed to get along all right, so I joined up with them and we rode the rest of that day together, stopping in a small town in Wyoming to spend the night in the city park.

Being a good camper and after that night with the chiggers, I decided to put up a little tent. My riding buddies must’ve thought this was quite something funny, because sometime in the early hours of the morning, I woke up to being dragged around the campground by a motorcycle with a rope tied to my tent. This was all in good fun, and nothing got hurt, except I ditched the tent. I think they were trying to make me a prospect for the club even though that was never going to happen.

We rode on up together to the Black Hills. It is such a beautiful place. We ended up in the little town of Hill City, where we were able to rent a cabin for the week. I don’t remember a whole lot about the week (can’t imagine why) but I know we did a lot of riding. We visited Mount Rushmore and went to downtown Sturgis. There were lot of crazy people doing crazy things, which is mostly what Sturgis was (and is) all about.

Me and the Hells Angels entering the Black Hills. Fun and friendly bunch of guys, enjoyed riding with them.

As Sturgis Bike Week ended, my new riding buddies headed back to California. I told them that I was going to ride to Billings to visit my sister-in-law at the time. They told me that they would contact a woman in Miles City, Montana who had a roadhouse for Hells Angels, and that I would be welcome to stay the night there on my way. She was a dancer in a club downtown and was very nice to me. We’ll leave it at that.

After Miles City I rode on to Billings where I spent a couple of nights there with my wife’s sister and her husband. We pretty much just hung out together at thier place. From there I decided to make my way to northeast South Dakota to visit my old friend Barney who had an airplane AG business, spraying crops.

I remember this quite well! I was headed south into South Dakota on Highway 281. I just crossed over into South Dakota from North Dakota when the little Harley quit running- BAM! I pulled off to the side of the road, cranked it over a couple times, but it wasn’t firing. So standing there in the middle of nowhere, wondering what I’m going to do now, a car came along and stopped. They asked me if they could help. I told them the bike just quit running and I was on my way to see my friend Barney, and they informed me, “Oh yeah, we know Barney! Everyone knows everyone around there.” They told me they would let Barney know as soon as they got to a phone.

So I just sat there waiting when this gal came along, pulled up behind the motorcycle and asked if she could help. I told her that someone else had already sent for help, and she kindly offered to sit with me until the help arrived. She invited me into her car and we sat there polishing off a bottle of vodka she had.

About the time we finished that vodka, an airplane flew low overhead, did a circle around us, swung back then landed on the highway. The pilot pulled into a little turnout on the side of the road, just before an 18-wheeler came blasting by. It was my old friend Barney. He shut the airplane down, walked over to us and said, “I just thought I’d fly out here and see what you had going on, so I would know what to come with to get your motorcycle. It looks like it’ll fit in a van. You guys take it easy and I’ll be back in a little while.” And with that, Barney lifted off down that highway and flew home.

Barney made it back alright, and we loaded the bike up. I bid my grateful farewell to the nice lady with the vodka and we drove the bike to Aberdeen where there was a Harley shop. The bike was only a couple of weeks old so still under warranty, but they didn’t have the parts to fix the bike. They contacted Harley-Davidson and were told it would take two weeks to get the parts to them from Milwaukee. There was another Harley shop in Fargo that had a new bike like mine on the sales floor that Harley would allow them to take the parts off of, if I agreed to that. Barney and I flew his little airplane to Fargo to pick up the parts and have lunch with another old friend while up there. Good times all around.

We delivered the parts to the Harley dealer in Aberdeen and I spent a couple of days visiting with my old friend there in South Dakota before rolling back South. I arrived in Wichita, Kansas just as the Truett & Osborne drag races and campout was going on. I of course had to stay for that, so I set myself up there at the drags and commenced to partying with whoever and whatever was going on. There was this one woman that asked to ride on the Sportster with me, so I complied of course. It didn’t have a backseat but did have rear foot pegs so we took off and rode around. She talked me into accompanying her into Wichita where she lived with a couple other people. I packed up my stuff and followed her into town. That was another night I can’t remember a whole lot about, and it’s probably just as well.

My wife Patty on the old Sporty, on one of our many road trips together. She loved that bike.

After leaving Wichita, I made it home to southeast Texas where I had to go back to the working world the next day. Another adventure in the books.

I kept that little Sportster for many years, and used it mostly for riding around town and shorter rides. After I got together with Patty, whom I had met through ABATE and we moved in together, I gave her the Sportster to ride. I painted it a bright green with pink pinstripes and put her nickname on it- “Cakes”. She was so proud of that bike and we rode all over the place together. One year we even rode back to Sturgis together, and she rode her own bike.

Now many years later we no longer have that old Sportster, as it was drowned in a flood after a hurricane in southwest Louisiana.

We both loved that little Sportster. We will always cherish the memories with it.

Mike Boyd