Via KRTV:
On Hogs and Indians, they rumble in from all points on the compass and explode the population of Sturgis, South Dakota, from less than 7,000 to nearly half a million.
For one week each summer, they create a noisy pop-up city unlike any other and as the nation closes in on midterm elections, they lay bare America’s political divides.
While the modern-day biker tribe is vast and varied, containing more middle-aged couples than brawling outlaws, one can go hours — or days — without seeing a person of color in the crowds here at one of the world’s largest biker rallies. In Sturgis, the definition of diversity is a white guy on a foreign bike.
The shooting ranges and bikini contests operate free from debate over gun control and #MeToo. And while other parts of the country agonize over his tumultuous presidency, the leader of this pack is Donald Trump.
“I like what Trump’s doing but it seems like Congress and stuff is kinda’ fightin’ him,” John Sands tells me through a full-face skull mask. The postal worker rides up from Kentucky each year, dressed in skeleton garb, posing for pictures with a bony middle finger raised for comedic effect. “I think (Congress) should have some term limits,” he says. “Two, maybe four years.” Not allowing incumbents to run for re-election time after time would end the phenomenon of career politicians, he adds.
This is not the first time or place where perception trumps data, but while America wrestles with stagnant wages, spiraling health costs and income inequality, many here see the giant crowds as an indicator of booming consumer confidence.
“We got really a lot of people that are in private business and industry that camp here and what they’ll tell you is that it’s the Trump bump,” says Rod Woodruff, owner of the Buffalo Chip, a sprawling complex of campgrounds, bars and concert stages. “The economy is so good and people are feeling so good.”
He says his average camper makes $95,000 a year, owns his own home and more than one motorcycle. In a coveted section of luxury motor homes behind the Wolfman Jack stage, there are no signs of the much-analyzed “economic anxiety” that impacted the 2016 election, only utter devotion to President Trump.
“I personally love the man,” says James Bakalich, a Harley parts dealer from Florida. “I think he’s doing a wonderful job.” When I bring up the red flags and storm clouds of Russia’s attack on the election and the ongoing Mueller investigation, Mark Halvorson shrugs.
“They’re picking on him because he’s from the outside. If you look at the Clintons, how come they can do things and no one else can?” As he shows off his “Trump 2020” tattoo, Halvorson even pledges his allegiance to Trump over the holiest of brand names in Sturgis; Harley-Davidson.