"They're comin' from everywhere, Sweetheart. Look at all the pins stuck in this map on the wall."

Sam and Ann registered at the Sturgis armory and squeezed another pin among all the others that pinpointed San Francisco on The World map. Hordes of others had done the same thing to identify their hometowns. Then the two of them strolled, leather to leather, on Main Street among the thousands of other bikers.

"There're enough tee shirts for sale here to cover all of the Black Hills," Ann said, snuggling against Sam to squeeze among the herd of bodies meandering the sidewalks.

"Yeah. And the Badlands, too. Seems bigger than last year, don't you think?"

"Sure seems that way. Hold on to my hand, Sam, so we don't get separated."

"Bet you'll have a hard time deciding where to get your skin inked," Sam said.

"Could be. Tattoo shops seem to be set up all over the place. I'm depending on you to pick out a talented artist. How does one do that?"

"It's kinda like picking the best barber. You go to the one that cut the hair of the guy with the best looking haircut."

"Let's do Lazelle Street, like last year."

Sam and Ann ambled among the bustling vendor's booths. "Love the smell of fresh new leather," Sam said.

Ann entered the next booth. "Look at all this great jewelry, Sam."

"I can't believe that every woman's body isn't already coated with jewelry."

"Relax, Sam. Not everyone watches shop-at-home TV." Ann put an arm behind Sam's neck with tenderness. Her smile shifted to a grimace as she jabbed an elbow into his gut. "A girl can't have too much jewelry, dipstick."

Sam sucked in his stomach. "Thanks for pointing that out to me, dear heart." Sam rubbed his stomach as they continued through the milling crowds and BBQ smoke from nearby grilles. His brow took on a few furrows. Damn, I'm gonna have to watch my comments.

"Let's check out some tattoo parlors, Ann." Sam slid his hands between his belt buckle and his jeans. He noticed that Ann began humming as she picked up sale items and examined them. She does that when she wins. Part of that superior attitude of hers. Glad I can be of service.

"Let's look inside this store front," Sam said.

It was ten degrees hotter inside. A large fan distributed the accumulating fresh cigar smoke throughout the converted store. A dozen tattoo artists sat needling-in designs on the same number of tattoo-ees. Sam and Ann watched as the artists inked in skulls, cobwebs and a catalogue of other illustrations into bare arms, backs and in the case of two young ladies in the corner, a breast and buttock.

"They're backed up three deep, Sam," Ann said.

Sam thumbed through a photo album of one of the artists. "Guess we'll just have to stand around and observe. It looks like dragons down the back are big this year."

"Geeze, Sam. Selecting an artist will take all afternoon. Maybe I ought to hold off and get inked when there's no rush." Ann elbowed her way through the logjam of bikers standing around watching the artists. "Those tattoo machines buzz kinda funny," she said.

"Come on, Ann. You've bragged to everybody back home about gettin' tattooed in Sturgis this year. You gettin' cold feet?"

"Close. A cold ankle. Maybe I don't want a rose tattoo on my ankle after all. God, look at all those people with HD, chains and, and nudes all over them."

"And that's the women," Sam said, winking. "Hell, I remember when you were contemplating getting a neat picture of a bird over your right tit. And now, not even a rose on your well-turned ankle? Damn."

"Don't get pushy, Sam. I don't need any pressure, especially from a guy without a tattoo of his own. There're issues here, wiseguy."

"Issues? Like what?"

"Hepatitis and AIDS, for example."

"Not to worry. These guys are pros. They use the latest equipment and sterilize their needles between clients. Ask them."

"Oh, come on, Sam. Let's go. I'm starved. Maybe the crowds will lighten up later."

"Not to worry, Ann. "I'm mad about you, illustrated or not." They headed towards Bob's Restaurant, stopping many times to examine the endless variety of bikes backed against the curb.

"But I want to come away with something from this rally," she said, squirming through the sidewalk crowds.

Sam caught Ann by her arm, then placed his arms around her neck. She pulled back a tad. A serious, quizzical expression crossed her face.

Sam gave her a peck on her cheek and whispered, "I'll buy you a nice souvenir."

Ann stiffened, distancing herself a bit and opened her eyes wide. "Really?"

"How about a nice "I Rode Mine" Sturgis hat pin? They're everywhere and only about five bucks."

Sam released her just in time to step out of range of her elbow as it jabbed toward him.

"You must be hungry, Ann. You're slowin' down."

Ann's eyes narrowed to slits as she stuck her tongue out. She made a crisp about-face and said, "A dragon. Yeah. Maybe that's what I'll get. A dragon down my back."

This first appeared in the Summer 1999 edition of Sturgis Rally News.