Do you believe in omens? If the day starts badly, do you think it might set the tone of the day? Well, day two of our ride up to Sturgis and its many attractions, started well enough, waking up in the cool of Mondo’s house while outside, the temperature, which had stayed hot all night, was quickly climbing in typical Las Vegas fashion. After dressing, I reached into my bag for my sun block only to find that the tube had burst in the previous day’s heat. I stored it in a compartment with my wet weather gear, jacket and pants, and they were coated with sticky white goo. And I mean covered. What to do? Well hoping that Mondo didn’t have hidden video cameras throughout his house I did the only thing I could do, stripped off, put on the gooey pants and top and hopped into the shower. While it’s an image I’m trying to block out, it worked. Funny enough, Billy’s tube of sun block had burst open too and he was busy wiping it off his t-shirts and other gear as I went out to our bikes. Okay, so it wasn’t a major disaster but it wasn’t an auspicious way to start day two.

We spent a short while admiring Mondo’s cool red resto before he drove us down town for a hearty breakfast over which we chatted about – what else? – motorcycles of course. Mondo’s tales of the road and of bikes and bikers would make a heck of a book and I truly hope documents some day. Go Mondo! Before heading out of town we swung past Denver’s Choppers again to pick up a couple of items and I snapped a few more shots.

Check out Mondo’s web site at www.denverschoppers.com if you haven’t already done so, or haven’t been there in a while. Man, does this guy ever make seriously cool springer forks! Don’t just scope the one’s he’s holding, take a look back over his left shoulder.

Back on the road things were getting hot again and it wasn’t long before I felt the need to ditch my mesh jacket which does provide a cooling breeze at speed but when the wind is as hot as it was getting to be, it was time to strap it to the back of the bike.

Billy and I were playing ‘happy snappers’ in a kind of friendly rivalry as we rode along, each trying to outdo the other. Hey, when you’re riding with a Flathead - even a Billy Lane Flathead - well you hang around the 60-65mph mark which gives you time to play around, compared to riding at 80-90. But it is a lot of fun in its own way and you get to see more of the scenery. Reviewing the pics that night I had no choice but to concede that Billy had clearly outdone me in the photo stakes with the self portrait below. Check out the image in his sunglass lens! Is that ever cool or what? Move over Michael Lichter, Billy’s comin’ after you!

Of course I didn’t really mean that Mike should be even a little bit scared of Billy. Or did I? Scope the pic below taken somewhere in Utah, which you would logically expect me to have taken. Right? Wrong, it’s another Lane self-portrait and it’s damn cool if you ask me.

Here’s how he does it. Billy positions his bike and then crosses the road and lays down, placing his camera on a neat small tripod. After composing the shot he sets the self timer and scoots back across the road, gets into position and waits for the camera to take the shot. Cool eh?

In case I've been sounding like the #1 member of the Billy Lane fan club, let me set the record straight. I believe in credit where credit is due I didn’t let an opportunity go by without teasing Billy about his oil leaking, oil spraying old bike. In Aussie we call it “putting sh*t on your mates” and it’s a national tradition so you can be certain Billy copped a fair bit of this. All in good heart mind you.

But here’s the thing; here I am on a shiny white Road King courtesy of Harley-Davidson, a 2008 model with cruise control, ABS brakes, fly-by-wire throttle etc, but hardly anybody even glances at it when we stop for gas. Or in Billy’s case, oil and gas. No. The Roadie gets nary a sideways look as the spectators are too busy crowding around Billy’s ol’ ’48, making admiring and complimentary comments. Ha, go figure.

Not that every comment was complimentary. Way out in Utah a couple of yuppies squeaked out of the gas station shop in their shiny new leathers, with their newly sewed HOG insignia and badges gleaming in the sun.

He looked at Billy’s bike and then turned to her saying, “Would that damn pile of junk even run?”

Casting a withering look at him she snapped, “Well dummy, he didn’t push it way out here did he?”

We chugged on up through Utah, where at least the weather was a bit cooler once we’d left the Nevada desert behind, which was quite a relief to say the least. Billy’s bike did a great job of coping with the heat, all things considered, but in the cooler air it ticked along like a gold Rolex, never missing a beat and starting first kick at every gas stop.

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