"AN UNFORGETTABLE CHARACTER"
By Carroll Kelly – AKA "Speedy"

I know most of you are aware that the Readers Digest has, for many years, featured an article in its monthly publication entitled “The Most Unforgettable Character I Ever Met.” I was never given the opportunity to write an essay in Readers Digest, but obviously, I have been given the privilege and task of writing an article for our Club’s website, and I am titling my essay - - - “An Unforgettable Character.”

This story begins in 1995 when I approached a strapping young man at Ninfa’s Restaurant on Navigation. I asked this fellow if the motorcycle outside was his. He reluctantly admitted to the ownership of the bike. I related to him that I also owned a motorcycle and further, inquired as to whether or not he might be going to Sturgis, South Dakota in August. He responded by a statement along the lines of “yes, but what’s it to you?” Notwithstanding his unfriendliness, I forged ahead. He then related to me that he and a “large group” of people would be going to Sturgis. I asked him if I might include myself in that “large group” of people. He said, “Well I guess you can if you insist.”

At any rate, I got this fellow’s name and phone number and early the next week I called him to attempt to move forward with this trip that would include several bikes and multiple riders. The fellow finally seemed reconciled to the fact that I was going to make this trip to Sturgis with him and his group of friends.

As things progressed it became apparent that the only people that were going on this trip in this context were this fellow that I met at Ninfa’s and me. The “large group” obviously dissipated to he and I. As the trip grew closer to its beginning, we were making plans to have our bikes shipped, fly to Rapid City, South Dakota, pick up our bikes, and begin the odyssey in and around Rapid City, Sturgis, Deadwood, etc. I soon learned that the “large group” of people that this fellow was talking about were people who, likewise, hauled their motorcycles to the Sturgis area, stayed in Deadwood, and casually rode around the area sightseeing, viewing ladies in scantily clad outfits, and hanging around the bars in the area acting like Macho Bikers.

My new friend and I met David Cook, the GURU of Deadwood at that time, and his entourage of bikers at the Bullock Hotel in Deadwood, South Dakota. Needless to say, David Cook did not have rooms for my new friend and me. So, we stayed at a third-rate motel on the outskirts of Deadwood, but were accepted into the David Cook group at the Bullock Hotel for refreshments, food, general BS, etc. Those activities went on for several days and at the conclusion of the time in Deadwood, David Cook and his entourage loaded their classic motorcycles into their trailers and headed back to Houston. My new friend and I, however, undertook to return to Houston by taking a rather circuitous route through the Little Big Horn Battlefield; Billings, Montana; Bear Tooth Mountain; the Range Rider Hotel at the entrance to Yellowstone National Park; Yellowstone National Park; Jackson Hole, Wyoming; Cheyenne, Wyoming; Denver, Colorado; and points south.

By this time my friend and I were on rather friendly terms and both of us seemed to be enjoying the trip, the sights, the food, and the camaraderie. My friend did, and has developed, a habit of somewhat narcissistically taking times on many of the mornings of the trip to work on various projects from his hotel room with his office in Houston. During those times, I would twiddle my thumbs in my room and wait for my friend to finish his work so that we could continue our trip. About 8 days into the trip, and on a Sunday evening, we located a lively biker bar in Pueblo, Colorado. After food and drinks, we returned to our respective rooms and I was told by my friend that we would not be able to leave the next day until sometime in the afternoon since he planned to work from his room in Pueblo with his office in Houston. We went to bed. During the night I decided that the camaraderie, fellowship, and adventure of the trip to-date had been enough for me. I decided to tell my friend the next morning that I was going to mount my 1980 Shovelhead Harley (which, by the way, used about as much oil as it did gasoline on the trip) and take out on my own for Houston. This is what I did and my friend continued his trip through Albuquerque and Santa Fe, New Mexico; Tombstone, Arizona; and points south and west.

This trip was my first motorcycle trip, and I also learned it was my friend’s first motorcycle trip of any significance. We would travel as much as 300 miles a day and would be totally exhausted from the day’s activities. As many of you know, my friend and I have now ridden together over 40,000 miles, and on many days we have covered 700 to a 1,000 miles a day. So, we have learned to be better bikers with much more stamina and know-how concerning the handling and manipulation of an 800 lb. motorcycle. All of the trips we have taken together have been wonderful, but this first trip was obviously a learning experience for both my friend and me.

At any rate, I made it home safely in about a day and a half from Pueblo, Colorado; and my friend made it home safely to Houston in about four more days of sightseeing and riding. As we all know, in the world of Harley Davidson Motorcycles, it is “not the destination but the journey that counts.” This trip was, of course, a wonderful experience for me. I met many interesting and friendly people and because of my friend’s generosity, I was included in this, my first trip to Sturgis. I know today that this trip with my new friend was one of the reasons for his idea, along with Ricky and David Cook, to form a motorcycle club in Houston that would be named the Deacons of Deadwood. Through my friend’s hard work, this Club was formed. I am honored to be one of the founders of the Club. If you have not guessed by now – my new friend was and is “SAM ALLEN.”

As I have stated previously, Sam and I have, with others, traveled across this Country and Canada on our motorcycles together. Those trips have also been unforgettable, but I know without Sam’s leadership and tenacity, that many of the trips would not have taken place and that in all probability, the Deacons of Deadwood Motorcycle Club would never have been founded. It now has a membership of well over 50 members, has generated several hundred thousand dollars for charity, and has given me the opportunity to meet and become friends with other “unforgettable characters.”

"Thanks Sam"