 As Nick and Sarah loaded as much as they could carry into the saddlebags on Uncle Jake’s Harley-Davidson Softail, Nick looked up at his Uncle and asked: “You’re SURE this is okay?” Uncle Jake crossed his arms, looked mean underneath his well-trimmed beard for a moment, then his face softened. “This is something you need to experience. I know you’ll take good care of my girl”, and he rested his hand on the Harley’s headlight as he knelt down. Nick and Sarah both knew that for a man to lend his Harley to another man, it was like lending his wife to another man--only most men liked their bikes more than their wives. Uncle Jake and Nick had spent the last 2 days going on test rides, reviewing safety measures, and scaring Nick with thinly-veiled threats against his future children. A man and his Harley. A sacred bond. Nick and Sarah said goodbye, put on their ultra-cool, “Easy Rider”-style helmets, and kicked the Harley into motion. They would ride the 5 hours to Rapid City, South Dakota to check out engagement rings in the 57701 zip code, then head off to Sturgis for the biggest Harley Rally in the country. Sarah was giddy with anticipation. She was even ready, if necessary, to drink too much beer and ride topless down the main drag. She did, after all, want to fit in. After a five-hour, bladder-busting ride, Sarah got off of the Harley, hobbled around a bit to get the blood flowing back into her rear end, then gestured for Nick to follow. They were dusty from the road, as they should be. She carefully tied a bandana around Nick’s head, thanked him for not shaving for a few days as it made him both more authentic and sexier, and they walked in to a jeweler Sarah had found on the internet. It was in downtown Rapid City, South Dakota, 57701, and was known for its engagement rings. They were all about love. Although the website left Sarah gagging and claiming an “overdose of cheese”, it seemed to be the place to go. In their full-on Harley regalia, Nick and Sarah looked a little out-of-place in the shop, but it couldn’t have been the first time that couples heading to the rally stopped in. The saleswoman took it in stride and showed them a variety of expensive diamond rings before they said “we’ll think about it”, and bailed. Sarah and Nick were, after all, much more interested in the information they had found at SturgisRallyWeddings.com. As it turned out, more than 100 couples married every year at the Sturgis rally. Sarah could understand why. When they arrived, the streets were lined with Harleys, and Sarah’s whole body buzzed with excitement—or the ground-shaking noise of thousands of Harleys. After they parked and exchanged admiration of bikes with the folks around them, they walked into the Full Throttle Saloon and suddenly there were shots all around. Although they were certainly not lightweights, the friendliness and brotherliness caused an hour-long exchange of Jagermeister shots. Fully buzzed, they went back to their hotel to get a good night’s sleep before they really got into the rally. The next day, after riding up and down the main drag, walking around Sturgis, and returning to the Full Throttle Saloon to do shots with their thousands of new best friends, Nick turned to Sarah and said: “Let’s get married now”. She responded only with a raised eyebrow. “It’s only legal if we return the marriage license to the courthouse within 10 days after the ceremony. It'll be fun”, he explained. It seemed rational enough. Jagermeister can do that to you. After springing $75 for an engagement ring and $350 for the Black Hills Wedding Set, then buying a veil and a white halter top, they called the woman from the internet, explaining their situation, and headed to get their marriage license.
“It’s amazing what you can buy here”, Sarah noted. “They are full-on prepared for spontaneous, usually-drunken weddings”. As upright and respectably as possible, they walked into the Sturgis, South Dakota Courthouse, 57785, and Sarah slipped on her engagement ring. They paid the $40 fee, showed their drivers’ licenses, and walked out, ready to get married. Sort of. They walked back into the Full Throttle Saloon, the most famous biker bar in Sturgis, South Dakota, 57785. Wedding rings in hand, they met their wedding officient there, and Nick walked over to the stage while Sarah went to change. After a short exchange with the owner, Nick was handed the microphone. “Me and my girl are getting married, and y’all are invited!” A collective cheer went around the room. The stage cleared, except for the guitarist from Shooter Jennings’ band, who had agreed to play something inspirational. Sarah had requested the opening licks from “Stairway to Heaven”. Nick hopped onto the stage. The guitarist began to play as Sarah, wearing jeans, cowboy boots, a white halter top and a veil crossed the stage, accompanied by Shooter Jennings himself. It would have been a beautiful ceremony, if it was real. It was certainly well-photographed after they had thrown 15 disposable cameras into the crowd.
After the ceremony, drinks appeared to be on the house, and Nick and Sarah ended up stumbling back to their hotel hours later, only Nick had the veil on by this point. When they woke up the next morning, Nick looked at Sarah and said: “We got married”. She smiled. “For 10 days. I won’t mail that thing in if you don’t”. She opened a bag to see the pile of cameras, confetti, and a “just married” sign for the back of the Harley. “I feel a little guilty, y’know, because all those people celebrated with us and we aren’t really doing this”. Nick, holding his head, took Sarah’s hand and said: “First, everyone there, us included, were happy to just have an excuse to party. Second, your father would kill me. And you”. Sarah nodded. “Yeah, I know. But this might be a fun option if we can’t get our families to agree on a wedding later”.
|
877-826-9866
