The tribes are on the move and you can hear their rumble. The tall lanky guy, blue jeans and a tee shirt said, "I'm DJ. This here is Randy."
"I'm Randy," the other guy repeated. If bikers were superheroes, Randy would always be the sidekick.
They were talking to Dan and Clarissa - I'd spot her on the way in. Easy enough to do since she was wearing a skin tight hot pink top with a deep scoop and red hair from Clairol. It took three sentences of conversation for her to inform the rest of the tribe she was a full member and rode her own Harley.
DJ and Randy were from Seattle. Clarissa and Dan were from New Mexico. A guy in the neighboring booth at the Pizza Hut in Hardin, MT, Roy was from Wisconsin. I think he was taking the scenic ride to Sturgis.
The town was filled with bikers and they were everywhere on the road, all headed for their annual pilgrimage in Sturgis, South Dakota.
We saw more of them at breakfast, all of us up early to get the miles in. The bikers all walk with their toes pointed out, a bit duck footed except for DJ. I think he has a bad hip. I don't know if Sturgis has any holy water or magical potions that will help him.
There were also members of my tribe there. We're not as chatty as the bikers. One guy nodded while we checked out each other's shoes. The other guy was trying to get logged on the computer to answer some emails. But they both had that tanned, lean build and the shoes. Mostly, they had that look - the one that you get when you've covered enough miles and you're still hunting the horizon. I know that look.
Just a nod. A far branch - all the tribes have them just as families do. And while you have your tribes - you probably have at least a couple you're passionate about - you're never alone.