One weekend, thousands of bikes, two bomb-ass concerts, fifty thousand people from all over the world, and I’m the lucky one. I got to attend the Harley Davidson 120th Anniversary Homecoming Festival in Milwaukee this summer with the five best people there: two of my sisters, my little brother, my sister-in-law, and her fun and feisty sister. Fifty thousand is a massive crowd, and despite heat and the incessant lines that come with that many people, the day had a chill vibe.
The road trip began when my sister and brother picked me up and we headed northwest to Milwaukee. At stops along the way, we spotted hogs galore, all destined for Milwaukee and the festival. I asked one rider, “Hey, is that a Fat Boy?” It’s a rhetorical question. I know exactly what a Harley Fat Boy looks like. It’s just fun to say. When we got to my sister and her wife’s house, we ate and hydrated. Then we ventured into a sea of Harley humanity.
Before the concerts, we visited the Harley Davidson Museum, stopping to pregame at a bar, and to check out the thousands of Harleys, both vintage and new, on display at the museum. The bikes, the fashions, and the riders and fans from every corner of the planet were a people watcher’s delight. The vintage and custom bikes were works of art, and the talent on display was boundless. Glowing chrome, ape-hanger handlebars, and intricate paintings on the gas tanks vied for everyone’s attention as the sounds of revving engines droned on in the background.
From the museum, we walked the two miles to Veteran’s Park to the concerts. Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, and the Foo Fighters, one of my perennial faves, were on deck. It was the second time I’d be seeing the Foos. I share my birthday with their founder and lead singer, Dave Grohl. Walking took us a lot less time than sitting in traffic and securing parking would have. We stopped on a bridge overlooking a huge swath of Harleys to take a photo. Some bikers from Ecuador offered take another photo of us so we could all be in it. Along the way, we saw riders of all ages, races, and genders who braved the traffic and long lines into the park in order show off their treasured bikes. The ladies in hijabs and helmets riding their own bikes rather than sitting behind men delighted me.
After a long and circuitous line to enter the concert venue, we got a few beers and got as close as we could to the stage to see Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, who appeared with Paul Shaffer of David Letterman Show fame. Another delight. We got separated from part of our group in the crowd, but it didn’t matter. Fans we’d just met danced along with us to Bad Reputation and Everyday People.
After the first concert and many texts, we reunited for dinner, entering what seemed like an eternal food queue. There were probably twenty food vendors there, all of them with lines about an hour long. While it’s always a downer to wait that long, especially when you’re hangry, people were chill and treated one another like neighbors, passing baskets of fries to one another so no one got hangrier.
As we sat down to eat, I heard the bikers next to us speaking what I thought was my mother tongue. It was not Polish, but Belarusian they were speaking. One of the men in their group had on a stunning leather vest with black and red Cyrillic lettering, and his friend alerted him that I was taking a photo of it. He turned around and smiled. I told him I liked his vest, that my family is Polish, and that the language reminded me of the Polish my dad and Busia spoke when we were growing up. “We’re practically neighbors!” he declared as we shared a laugh. While government of Belarus backs Russia in the ongoing war in Ukraine, he remarked how wonderful the Poles’ outreach to the Ukrainian people has been since the Russian invasion began. Political boundaries seem meaningless once people connect as individuals.
At last, it was time to make our way to the stage for the Foo Fighters! We were already closer than we’d been for Joan Jett, and people kept moving forward, surrounding us on all sides. Astoundingly, more people kept coming forward until the crowd was so tight, we started to get a little scared. Even though everyone was still easy-going, we decided to move back and watch the show on the Jumbotrons. We made the right call. Halfway through the show, Grohl stopped the music to call out a group fighting in the center of the crowd. Decorum precludes me from repeating what he said to them, but the fighting ceased, and the Foos played their hits for another hour.
After ten hours of standing, walking, waiting, dancing, and more walking and waiting, we made the long trek back to our car. It was a fun yet exhausting day. Attending a biker rally was another first for me, and it was nothing like I expected. They weren’t Hell’s Angels; they were everyday people, and we were all practically neighbors.
Music: "Everyday People" by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts
