So here we were on the outskirts of Deer Lodge, getting a little excited in anticipation of what the Vincent bunch would think of streamliner number 6. There had never been a picture taken of Black Lightning nor had it ever been set on the ground where you could step back and view it's aerodynamic lines with all it's vitals in one piece. For the past two years she had been gradually taking shape bit by bit in my small garage, never seeing the light of day except for one occasion where I had taken it in an incomplete state to my son's car show in Moline, Kansas.

The drive through Deer Lodge was only encumbered by one traffic signal about half way into the three minute drive. Deer Lodge exceeds New York only in the number of letters in it's name.

The windows were down and I could hear the familiar sounds of a couple of Vincents that had their throttles turned on a little too much for the 35 mph speed limit. We pulled into a filling station at the far end of town. Did I say far? To be more exact I should have said end of town. The motel was across the street where a good majority of the Vincent group were obviously staying. I spotted a few trailers and a couple of guys who had their tools out working on their pride and joys. It wasn't long until a small crowd had gathered around the trailer. The wrinkled fender was not the center of attraction and went unnoticed.

After getting a briefing from a couple of fellow VOC members as to the lay of the land and what was on the agenda for the last couple of days of the rally, my next move was to find Bob Bonato. They told me he was driving around in his Studabaker as his magneto had given up on his Rapide. The gala events of the rally were being launched primarily from the prison yard and it's parking lot. The trailer was turned around and pointed towards the other end of town. So after a two and one half minute ride we pulled into the parking lot of the prison. Didn't experience any traffic jams or anything of that nature. We probably just hit it lucky I suppose. The first recognisable face I saw was Bill Easter's of California. He was with his wife, who I must admire for her tolerance. This is just my opinion, which I have formed over the years. Anyone who owns a Vincent will tell you that their spouse has to understand that for instance, if the Vincent needs an oil change and the spouses car needs an oil change--need I say more?

It was not long until the Studabaker pulled in with Bob at the wheel. We exchanged greetings and I could see that he was a very busy man. So after 30 minutes or so of chit chat with other NA Rally attendees it was my turn to have a little of Bob's time. Found out where I was to stay, where to off load the liner, what was the schedule for tomorrow.

Bob wanted the liner in the walled in outdoor recreational area of the prison. It was decided that the prison would make an excellent back drop for picture taking. Also this area is secured with a chain link fence at night. A concrete pad was selected for the liner adjacent to the prison building that used to house the bad guys. I will admit that it's a pretty eery place, with the guard towers and all. It wouldn't be a place that a fellow wold like to spend a lot of time, two days was enough for me, and I could leave at will.

It wasn't a problem to off load the liner, Mike supervised the willing helpers and in about 30 minutes the liner was finally sitting in the open void of all the debris of pit essentials and trailers which distracted a great deal from her purposeful appearance which states, "I'm fast".

Lot's of people were taking pictures and asking questions, however, Mike and I were pretty beat after the 44 hours on the road. All we wanted was a good meal, a shower, and a bit of sack time. We left the liner in the safe keeping of the prison. Found ourselves a local restaurant and bar that said they had the best steaks in Montana--either they were right or I was very hungry. Talked a bit with the waitress, who pointed out that Deer Lodge has a ratio of 8 to 1, bars to churches. It's my guess that it is quite possible that Deer Lodge may turn into the Sturges for Vincent riders. All Bob would have to do is get a Honda motorcycle that we could work over with a sledge hammer, and talk someone into opening up a tattoo parlour. What do you think? Of course we would have to put extended forks on our Vincents, make them rigid, paint them some candy color and detune the lot to get the full effect. I won't get into body piercing for the ladies, for if we are ever going to make it happen we'd better ease into some of the aspects of the idea.