They say the full moon brings out the wild side and 2001 Daytona Bike Week proved that theory correct. Daytona has always been one of my favorite events. There's madness in every direction. A short ride south on Route 1 takes you to the Miller Cycle festivities. A little further south and the craziness at the bars of New Smyrna Beach -- Pub 44, Cabbage Patch and The Last Resort, to name a few -- can take up a whole day and night.

You can get lost up north at Ormond Beach. The Iron Horse, Broken Spoke, Jackson Hole and Smiley's Tap are packed with food, drink, venders, good music, weirdness, everything and anything you could want. For the truly twisted and those willing to brave the cold-ass nighttime ride up Route 1, the White Eagle awaits. This place serves up killer blues and the raunchiest entertainment you'll find anywhere in Florida.

Then there's always the crush of Main Street and the mini-city surrounding Daytona Harley-Davidson.

Monday night on Main Street was pleasantly quiet. That is, you could walk freely without getting crushed on all sides by the crowd. By Saturday night, though, it was wall-to-wall leather. Just getting 5 feet down the street was an effort. But it was worth it to get into Froggy's and run into old friends I hadn't seen in a while.

Greg and Betty own Cycle Salvage up in New Haven, Conn. Greg is, without a doubt, one of the most extreme dudes out there. He used to bring all his old tires to Bike Week and proceed to show 'em how they smoke 'em up north. Sooner or later, you run into someone you know at Froggy's. I think a few of them stayed there all week. Then there were others who spent the week at the Bank, soaking up the rocking blues of the Razorbacks. A person would be hard-pressed to go someplace in Daytona and not find a good time.