You probably have to ride a Harley-Davidson through a bar to understand how much fun it really is. For 25 years now, motorcyclists have lined up one day a year behind Jim's Tap in Brookings, S.D., and ridden these very noisy machines through the bar and out the front door. They come from hundreds of miles away for a few delirious seconds that look very much like a scene from a summer "B" movie.

"This is not a biker bar, but one day a year we're as biker as a bar gets," said owner Don Urquhart, who led the parade through the bar on June 29.

Most of the year, Jim's is a welcome outpost on a prairie where a drinker seeking flavorful beer on tap often goes thirsty. The bar regularly has Guinness, Bass and Samuel Adams Boston Lager among its draught offerings, and sometimes another craft beer. The strength of the bottle menu is in imports, but there are a growing number of microbrewery beers available.

Guinness, Bass and Heineken neon hanging in the window tell you this isn't just another Budmillers bar. The brick storefront building dates to 1906. Jim Urquhart started the business in 1941 in another building down the street, serving only 3.2 (percent alcohol) beer. The bar moved to its present spot long ago, and in 1975 Don Urquhart acquired a full liquor license and remodeled the bar.

The motif is medieval, dark throughout, with plenty of heavy wood and some stones. Swords and spears decorate the walls. Toward the back, there are electronic darts, a foosball table and video gambling machines.There are fireplaces inside and out.

Jim's also hosts a Medieval Festival in July, in conjunction with an arts festival in town. The Society for Creative Anachronism puts on demonstrations, including fencing, and there's a big feast in the beer garden. An area is roped for full-armor combat.

"Our customers are college instructors, local businessmen, graduate students, the ones who can afford to spend a little bit more for beer," Don Urquhart said. Brookings, a town of 16,000 about 50 miles north of Sioux Falls, is home to South Dakota State University, which has 9,000 students.

This is not a tiny town taken over for a day by beasts on Harleys. It's three times bigger than Sturgis, S.D., which regularly attracts 100,000 bikers. Heck, the circus in Brookings the same day as the ride-through probably drew as big a crowd. Still, 200-plus bikes lined up along Main Street for the bike judging contest was quite impressive.

It's a far cry from 1971, when Urquhart and a few friends gathered in back of what was then his father's bar to plan a bike trip to Okoboji, Iowa. They decided to ride through the bar. Don's father died a few days later, and his son has run the bar since. The first official ride-through was in 1972, part of a planned party that kicked off another Fourth of July road trip. "Somebody said, 'Let's ride through like we did last year,' " Urquhart said.

A tradition was born. For more than 10 years it was just a smallish party in the alley behind the bar. When Urquhart had his gall bladder removed in 1979, he told the bar staff to organize the ride-through without him. There were fewer than 30 riders then.

He said this year's event -- officially the 25th -- appeared to be the biggest ever. As well as the bike show, there were tattoo and body-piercing contests.

Judging for the bike show started at 7 p.m. and the first ride-through at 9, but by mid-afternoon the bar was full. The staff was preparing for the second-busiest day of the year (South Dakota State's homecoming is busier). They removed shot glasses from boxes and washed them, pausing to share a quick pop each when somebody bought them a round.

The customers on ride-though day drank everything from shots to mixed drinks to O'Douls to Guinness and Bass. The place was not jammed with bikers slamming beer, then smashing the empty cans on their foreheads -- which is not to say everybody was perfectly behaved, or sober. "We've never had any real trouble," Urquhart said. "I think the image of bikers is changing ... You figure a machine is $5,000 minimum, and there were some here that cost up to $50,000, well, that says something."

At the barroom door, new customers were stopped and asked to sign waivers.

The event drew a cross-section of spectators, mostly from Brookings itself. Some sat in the bar and sipped on Samuel Adams Scotch Ale. Families -- some parents with small children by their side, a few pushing strollers -- milled around in the street, looking at the machines, many of which were vintage and in mint condition.

At the barroom door, new customers were stopped and asked to sign waivers, which were instituted in 1995, and then had their hands stamped. Organizers checked at the door to see if you were stamped, then checked again when you ordered at the bar. The waiver reads:

"In consideration of being granted permission to enter the property commonly know as Jim's Tap located at 309 Main Avenue, Brookings, South Dakota, on June 29 and June 30, 1996, I waive all claims for damage or loss to my person and property that may be caused by any act, or failure to act of Jim's Tap, its officers, agents, owners or employees. I assume the risk of all dangerous conditions in and about said property and waive any and all specific notice of the existence of such conditions."

Dan Taylor, a first-time rider who had come 650 miles from Illinois, looked around with some uncertainty. When he signed in, he asked how he'd know when it was time to get in line to ride. "They said, 'Don't worry, you'll know,' " he said, laughing.

Hundreds of people crowded around the "chute" outside -- the roped-off pathway that the bikers traveled after leaving the bar. A hundred or so more stood out back in the beer garden, the ride-through's launching pad. And about 200 of the most foolish spectators stood and sat inside the bar, where liquor service was cut off about five minutes before the event began in order to clear a path. Huge fans were set up to disperse exhaust fumes. Employees stood at the ready with fire extinguishers. "Regulators" manned the doorways to help bikers maneuver in and out.

The first few riders, including a woman in short wedding dress and veil, received loud applause. After that, the bikers just kept coming through -- senior citizens, a kid just barely old enough to drive, even an old guy on a bicycle. One rider laid rubber on the carpet. Urquhart seemed unperturbed afterwards. "We've got a good industrial carpet. I take some bug and tar remover and it cleans right up," he said. "We have more trouble with cigarettes. Bikers have a lot more trouble keeping cigarettes in ashtrays."

Rider after rider showed off by revving as loud as they could. The noise was truly deafening, a situation made for earplugs. And the fumes mixed with cigarette smoke made breathing rather unpleasant.

The even flow of riders was frequently interrupted by the regulators' having to slowly maneuver wider-than-usual bikes through the doorways. Taylor's was one bike that absolutely would not fit, although his wife's made it through.

Some riders emerged from the front door and headed quietly out the chute. Others paused, looking a bit a bit like a debutantes being presented at a ball. But when they headed on they didn't sound a bit like debutantes.
Varoom . . .