I’ll put lots of pictures in this post to give you an idea of the sights. Just the sheer number of motorcycles is staggering. The Weirs Beach area, which is where most of the action is, closes its main drag to all but motorcycles. Over 10,000 bikers / riders converge on this little resort town, and with them come vendors and voyeurs, bike industry representatives, beer and cigarette company tents, tattoo artists, bike painters, and thousands of sightseers and police. (Most trouble incidents, by the way, are not related to bikers or bike gangs. They tend to be well-behaved outside their camps because they like having this gathering and don’t want to make problems for the organizers. The trouble comes from rowdy young locals, usually drunk, who see this as an opportunity to act out.)
Although I can give you pictures of the crowds, I can’t communicate the feeling and sound. The smell is hot pavement, barbeque and fried dough, exhaust, dust, and a whiff of cool fresh air off Lake Winnepesaukee. The crowds are happy, wandering, looking at everything; the bikers are joyful in their overpowering majority; the vendors are excited by the money flowing; even the cops seem relaxed and pleased most of the day. The sound is incredible. Pounding through your feet and vibrating your chest, a few thousand throaty idling Harleys fill the air with a deep bass pulsing rumble. The scream of a cafe-cut Japanese road racer on the power test machine hardly disturbs it.
Scantily clad women are featured all over Bike Week. Some amazing motorcycles can be seen. Sometimes you’ll see both together…