Sturgis Has Never Gone According to Plan. That's Why I Keep Going Back.

My motorcycle broke down twice at Sturgis this year.

Same problem. In two different days.

And I'm not going to pretend I was totally fine with it.

I wasn't. But I was not going to let that stop me from the fun. 

I hauled my bike all the way from Texas to South Dakota because I wanted to ride. I wanted those Black Hills roads. The curves. The long stretches where everything else in your head finally gets quiet. That feeling you only get when it's you, your motorcycle and the road in front of you.

Instead, by Day 4, my Sportster was back at Deadwood Customs and I was standing there without a bike.

At Sturgis. Of all places. It was frustrating as hell.
But after six years of coming here, maybe I should know by now:

Sturgis never really goes according to plan. And neither does life. Ever.
What's that saying? "If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans."

I've gotten a lot better at that. Making God Laughy and also not at avoiding the things that go wrong and adapting when they do.

Six Years of Sturgis I've done Sturgis different ways over the years.I've ridden there because only real riddles do so lol, then I hauled there and I've camped. I've had incredible years and chaotic ones. Every trip has been different.

This year I loaded everything up and made the long drive from Houston to South Dakota with a picture in my head of what the week was going to look like. Bringing a friend to show her how and why I like to come to the rally.

We all make plans. We imagine how something is supposed to go. And then life reminds us that it didn't agree with any of them. My first few days were everything I love about Sturgis.

Camp Zero. Hosting the Anarchy Games. Deadwood. Friends. Motorcycles everywhere. The Black Hills stretched out in front of me again. 

Then Day 3 happened. My clutch went out in Deadwood. Deadwood Customs got my bike back together, and I remember thinking: Okay. We're good. I could handle one setback.

Then Day 4 came.The clutch went out again.And that one hurt a little more. Because now I knew. I wasn't riding.It's Okay to Be Disappointed I think sometimes we confuse being adaptable with being endlessly positive.

Something goes wrong and we're supposed to immediately say: 

Everything happens for a reason. 

Make the best of it.

At least you're still at Sturgis.

Sure. But also? I was pissed. I wanted my motorcycle. I wanted to ride.

I was in one of my favorite places in the country, surrounded by thousands of motorcycles, looking at roads I had traveled all the way to South Dakota to ride—and I couldn't.

That's disappointing.

And I've learned that adapting doesn't require pretending something doesn't suck. You can be disappointed. You can be frustrated. You can have your little moment of FUCK. And then you decide what you're going to do next. That's the part I think I've gotten better at.

There was a time in my life when something going wrong could ruin the whole experience for me. I'd get stuck on what should have happened. The plan. The expectation. The version of the story I had already written in my head. I'm not that person anymore. Or at least, I'm trying not to be. Now I give myself the moment. And then I pivot.

So I Became a Backpack

If I couldn't ride my own motorcycle, there were two choices. Spend the rest of Sturgis being angry about it. Or get on the back. So for the first time in a very long time, I became a backpack. Something I’ve fought not to be because I love the freedom that comes from being on the road on my own two wheels. And yes, my ego had some feelings about that too. 😂

I'm independent. I like being the one riding. I like being in control. There's something very different about sitting on the back of someone else's motorcycle and having absolutely no say in where the bike goes. Maybe that was part of the lesson too.

Because once I stopped thinking about the motorcycle I wasn't riding, I started experiencing the ride I was actually on. And the Black Hills were still beautiful. The wind still felt good. The roads were still there. I was still at Sturgis. I was still surrounded by people I cared about. I was still having an adventure. It just wasn't the one I planned. The Trip Wasn't Ruined. It Changed. That's a distinction I think I'm finally learning. Sometimes things don't fall apart.

They just change shape.

The motorcycle breaking didn't suddenly become a good thing. I would've taken my Sportster back in a heartbeat. But it didn't have to become the thing that defined my entire trip either. There was still Camp Zero. There were the Anarchy Games. There were friends I only get to see when motorcycles bring us back together. There was Lynyrd Skynyrd. There was Needles Highway. There was jumping into Lake Sheridan.There were sunsets over the Black Hills that made you stop talking for a minute. There were ridiculous moments and beautiful ones. Learning about others boundaries and limits and cheering for friends for the first time in twisties. 

And yes, there was me sitting on the back of a motorcycle instead of riding my own. Not what I planned. Still worth experiencing. Maybe That's Why I Keep Coming Back. 

Six years of Sturgis has taught me a lot about motorcycles.But maybe it's taught me even more about myself.

I can make the plans. I can load the truck. I can bring the tools. I can map the route. I can prepare for every possibility I can think of. And life can still say:

Nope. We're doing it this way instead.

I'm learning to be okay with that. Not because I don't care. Not because I'm magically zen about everything. And definitely not because I don't get frustrated.

I do. But I've learned that I can be disappointed about what didn't happen without missing what is happening. That's different. Maybe that's what adapting actually is. Not immediately loving Plan B. Just being willing to stop fighting the fact that Plan A is gone.

To look around. Figure out what you've got. And keep moving. Sometimes you're riding your own motorcycle through the Black Hills. Sometimes you're the backpack. Either way, you can still watch the sunset. And maybe that's why, after six years, I keep coming back. Because Sturgis has never given me exactly the trip I expected. It's given me stories instead.

And apparently I haven't learned my lesson, because I'm heading right back to Deadwood next week. This time I'll be trading some of the chaos of Sturgis for sparks, welding and a bunch of badass women with The Real Deal Revolution and Babes Ride Out.

Will that trip go according to plan? Probably not. I'm okay with that. Or at least… I'm getting pretty damn good at adapting.

— Carolina

When was the last time something you really wanted didn't go according to plan?
Did you fight it—or did you eventually find a way to enjoy what came next?
Tell me in the comments. I want to hear your story.