Western South Dakota is usually a very quiet place, except for this past week when the overriding sound is of motorcycle engines. This morning is the beginning of the riders going back home, for long periods of time there was just nothing to hear. The Friday before the Rally ends - today - used to be the day I'd head out to go back to whatever world I thought was normal, where I'd begin to count off the weeks until the next Black Hills Motor Classic would start and I could get back up into this country.

In my present life, I sit back and watch others leave, noticing that things are slowly moving back to what normal is here. Yes, this once-a-year event doesn't officially end until Sunday, but overheard conversations on this day are about getting home rather than riding around here, horses rather than bikes, speculation on when it will start to get cold again. The local people begin to come back out from wherever they go when the crowds of bikers are everywhere, some waiting to see just how much the motorcycle parts and accessories vendors will slash prices rather than haul their wares home on Sunday, so they can buy t-shirts and whatever else to send off to friends who couldn't make it this year.

Even where I am staying for a while, the last guest took off this morning. I'll be way up there this evening listening to wind moving through pine needles and not much else. And, I'll also be counting the weeks until next year's rally. By next week, parking lots will hold old cars and cattle trailers hooked to giant pickups rather than anything on two wheels. The past two weeks have been fantastic. Seeing old friends and meeting new ones, all of us brought together initially by a common love of Harley-Davidsons, the Black Hills and this motorcycle rally. To friends old and new, ride safe. See you next year.