First off I want to apologize about the video's audio quality. I made the mistake of using the waterproof case on the GoPro muffling the sound. A rookie mistake with the new camera that I learned from.

We packed up and rolled out Friday morning fired up about hitting Bike Week in daytona again. Chris and I wore the rally out in the 80s and Jim came down with us on our last run to the sun. The yearly Bike Week tradition skidded to a halt with the birth of Chris' son Keith.

Now over 20 years later the trio has regrouped, Keith is safely off to college and the grand caravan felt more like a time machine than a minivan. We giggled like little kids in anticipation. The plan was to find the ABATE campground south of town and set up our tent.

The ABATE campground was always where the wild stories of debauchery came from back in the day. A place that only the outlaws dared to stay and resembled Thunderdome's Bartertown more that Daytona Beach. We were sure the after party would be legendary later.

After staking our ground for the night at the fairgrounds and checking out some of the other camper's rigs on a beer walk around the place we suited up and headed out for the festivities downtown. First stop was Whiskey River Saloon to visit an old time sweetheart that relocated to Florida years ago, Detroit Debbie.

This bar rocks and should be on everyones bucket list! This bar and the people in it are real down to earth motherfuckin' bikers that know how to have fun. We should've spent the day here...

She still looks great and seems to have found her home here in Daytona after years of bouncing around. The bar that she works at was great. A true biker bar, not a family diner with a harley sign hung on it to attract the "starter Harley and a shiny leather " crowd like a bug zapper.

The Stevie Ray Vaughan tribute band was so loud us and the roaches had to retreat to the front porch. We had a blast with all of the regulars there and eventually had to say good bye to Deb and move on up A1A to catch the main street madness.

We were geeked up! Our tent was set up in Satan's back yard and the first night of Bike week was our next stop!! For a brief moment in time we were going to be in our 20s again and we were ready to tear it up.

The crowd was huge as we fumbled for a parking space. Once out of the van you could feel the energy in the air! We parked a few blocks from the world famous Boot Hill Saloon! The grand daddy of all outlaw biker bars and a favorite haunt of ours in the old days. This is the biker bar that all biker bars are modeled after!

First stop!... BOOT MOTHER-FUCKIN HILL SALOON! WooHoo!! A place where in the 80s I have watched things happen so outrageous I still tell the tales. Stuff of outlaw biker legend... I couldn't wait to strut through the door and ...OH WAIT is that an outdoor food court, Mother fuckin Boot Hill food court?

Well ok, I am starving so what the hell, No prices on the menu but give me an Italian Sausage and onions sandwich please...What, $20? Really? A gourmet stand dishing out carny food at 20 dollars a hit? hmmm.

After fighting with the crowd for enough elbow room to eat my wildly overpriced hot dog and watching a beard contest on the Boot Hill stage where a guy with a close trimmed and very neat goatee and a dress shirt won I decided to pee before leaving the yuppies to their Boot Hill Saloon.

So there I stand in the bathroom line watching two 450 pound women compete to win the fake orgasm contest on stage when life as I know it came to a grinding halt!

Boot Hill Saloon now has a bathroom attendant to cater to your every need... We wait in line to be escorted to the pristine port a-johns personally by a nice well dressed lady who then waits for you to finish where she sprays your hands with hand cleanser and offers you a mint after helping you dry your hands at the bathroom area's valet table while another attendant sprays the shitter with disinfectant readying it for the next royal yuppie behind....

I have no doubt that if I had sat down at a table inside the bar I would have been handed a wine list... Boot Hill is now a family freindly biker theme bar. The only thing missing are the kiddie place mats and crayons at the tables.

I suddenly wasn't feeling in my twenties anymore....

Boot Hill is now a tourist yuppie wine bar.... not a good start but off we go down main street in search of the real Bike Week, public drunkeness and titties flying everywhere...

With the exception of a couple of parking lots converted into outdoor patios with stages sporting AC-DC tribute bands it was an endless line of corporate clothing stores. I don't mean a few, I mean back to back huge corporate souvenir and T-shirt stores... We trudged along towards A1A knowing once we get to the world famous Big Daddy Rat's shop at the end all will be good.

Big Daddy would never sell out... Big Daddy has stood loud and proud since the 60s as the bastion of the anti-culture. Big daddy would raise a middle finger to the mid-life crisis crowd with a full dresser and a learners permit trying to reclaim the coolness they never possesed. Big daddy would scoff at the Lexus and a lowrider crowd.

NOPE... Big Daddy has sold out to a Cancun style tourist trap bar all lit up in neon, strobes and half naked strippers selling beer. All of which I highly approve of but a gritty biker establishment it is not.

It did provide men a place for the men to hide from the political correctness and gaze in wild wonderment at fake boobs and wild sluts drawing them in to buy beer like sirens of the sea..

I understand Big Daddy is still there somewhere and still holds their annual chopper contest but the gritty Rat Hole corner is all but a memory now.

The past life of Bike Week, dominated by the "God rides a Harley" crowd of tough guys, outlaws and stoned topless biker bitches is but a legend now.

Biker chicks were proud to show off their titties while riding on the bitch pad of their man's bike. That has given way to women riding their own bikes and their henpecked men riding close behind looking more like they're carrying their wife's purse at the mall than cruising Bike Week.

Main street ia now a Disney style tourist trap lined with harley clothing boutiques. It is now but a strip mall with motorcycle only parking.

The feminazation of America has killed the last bastion of manliness, the final frontier, the biker world. Exept for a few Neanderthal outposts like The Whiskey River Saloon it is all but dead.

We walked main street for hours without a single hint of a titty flash, the staple of any true biker event. Before the death of Bike Week girls would see a camera around your neck and ask you to take a picture of their boobs. We would run out of film and carry the cameras around for days empty just so chicks would flash us. Chris and I still have boxes of trophy Bike Week titty pics stored off from the old days.

We jumped back in the van and headed off to the ABATE bash at the campgrounds with high hopes of an evening saving display of decadence.The campsite turn out to be dead. I've seen libraries with more revelry.

I think Chris said it best: Daytona Bike Week is dead and gone. What's left is a glossy attempt to sell you the "Bike Week experience"... If your in the area defiantly walk the strip but don't go out of your way to see the new age corporate biker display.

We all agreed that if we had hualed our bikes 24 hours non-stop from Michigan just to do Bike Week like we use to we would've been real pissed off but since it was just a hit and run on the way home from Pine Island crazyness it wasn't a complete loss. The local rallies in every state has everything and more than Daytona's event except the ageless legends that makes it famous.