This is my first and likely my last rally. I enjoyed the experience immensely, learned some things about myself, and met some wonderful people. Ultimately though, I didn’t do enough in the first half(?), two-thirds(?), or three quarters(?) [whatever percentage it was] of my marriage to build a relationship with my wife and, having figured that out and gotten it on track, I’m less inclined to spend my limited free time with a bunch of Strangers. Don’t get me wrong - Team Strange (the people who put this event on) is filled with legitimately nice guys and gals and some went out of their way to engage me in conversation and help me feel among friends. While there are a few women and young riders, the rally demographic can be largely described (or stereotyped) as “OWG” - “Old White Guy” or “Overweight old White Guy” I can honestly say, while I had a very positive rally experience overall - all negatives were purely on me. Regardless, the most enjoyable time of the Rally was the time I spent with Mrs.RD before the Friday night Rider’s Dinner. I planned this weekend a month ago. I needed a computer to process the GPX file and plan a route but I did not want to take the computer with me on the entire ride (for multiple reasons). Mrs.RD agreed she would drive down to the hotel (70 minutes away in rush hour traffic through Minneapolis) and spend the night so she could bring the laptop and any other unwanted/unneeded items back to the house. It turned out that we arrived early enough to spend an hour in the (indoor) pool which was a welcome relief from the week of Phoenix-like temperatures we’ve had the last week. Afterwards, I attended the Rider’s Meeting and returned to the hotel where she assisted in route planning by looking up weather forecasts for specific route areas. This “Chronicles of Elvis” is the story about my first rally experience. If you’ve never done an IBA-type rally - this will give you some insight. If you have - then it’s just my story of riding 960 miles in 20 hours to go see the Egyptian Pyramid and Dutch windmills in northern North Dakota. Ok. It's not really Egyptian nor Dutch... but that's what came to mind as I stood in nowhere North Dakota looking at what I had ridden to see.