It was a time we all dread. The letter in the mail said that I not only had to pay for my driver's license renewal, but I had to visit in person to have my picture taken. Mistake number one was riding my motorcycle to the  DMV on West Avenue. Whether you wear a helmet or let your hair blow in the wind, your hair will be not be it's best afterward.

Things started out well. There were only a couple people to wait behind. Once called to the next available person, I was greeted by a cheery worker. The eye exam and paperwork went well. I was told to wait to be called at the sign for photos. An ominous sign of things to come was when I heard someone call Steve. No last name.  As I work with several Steves at work, I tell guys to call me by the nickname Grandfathers give all their grandsons, Butch. Thinking that someone that works there was calling to a coworker named Steve, I thought that my last name would be used or at least called out again. What if there were two Steve's waiting for a picture? I soon realized that we all were on a first name basis and my name must have been put to the bottom of the list for being slow to respond.

Certain to not miss my next call to glory, I trotted up to the desk when I heard Steve called again. I was ungraciously ordered to stand on the footprints and look at the stop sign. A nanosecond later the light flashed and the photographer decided that the picture met their standards. If I'm ever pulled over for drunk driving, I'll look exactly like my picture on the license. It will also may my airline travels more interesting when the TSA's do a doubletake while checking my ID..

It would seem that in this digital photograph age, a succession of pictures could be taken and the best selected by the taxpayer. Till that time, the DMV continues to deserve the barbs and jokes directed it's way.

A former editor of a local newspaper has told his readers that if they don't want to contend with the big Harley party this summer, leave town for a few days. How quaint!

As I am a motorcyclist for over forty years and have taken several camping excursions into the Appalacian Mountains and attended many motorcycle rallies, Harley Davidison specific included, I believe I have a more knowledgable opinion of this than those in the city that only see $$ dollars $$ and a little rumble in the air. 

Harley Davidson riders are divided into three groups. They are the hard core riders. They look like Paul Tuetul. Tatoos are cool. Out of my way type of people. Also known as the 1%ers. Then there are the Wannabes.  Like Clark Kent, they lead boring lives in their community and help old ladies across the street during the week.  On weekends they transform into the appearance of Sonny Barger, the most famous 1%er, but stop short of riding up and down the street whacking the citizens of Hollister with chains and being served food and beverage then leaving without paying for it. They have a Walter Mitty desire to be looked at by the cowering spectators as a 1%er.  They do some good deeds and raise some money for charity from time to time so they can have the police look the other way when they push the limits of law. The third type of Harley Rider can be confused with a Honda rider. They don't necessarily wear the uniform or have the attitude.  They just like the looks and sound of the machine and enjoy the ride.

Harley events also have double lives. There is the main event. Perhaps the most well know is Dayton Florida. I've never been there but I think it is about to be held as I write this blog. It is a rite of spring and the season kick-off. The hard core riders visit the main event but look for something a little more thrilling.  These side events are usually miles away from the main event or in a neighboring city. They are not sanctioned by the main event sponsor. Camera crews from "girls gone wild" frequently show up. The smell of burning hemp is in the air and the syringes littering the area are not from diabetics. Hospitals have to call in off-duty doctors and nurses. Beer trucks are hijacked.

Waukesha's event will fall someplace between Lake George New York (Americade) and Hollister California, and I don't mean geographically. I mean mild and wild.  This is why I've gone on record that is it best held at the County Expo grounds. 

The organizers say that they will have security covered by rent-a-cops and the police will not have to lift a finger. Perhaps, and I certainly hope so. However, I've seen what naive little towns get themselves into.  We'll need the sheriff deputies near by.  Lots of them.