While strolling along Main Street in Sturgis last year, it hit me: there is no difference between the nearly quarter-million riders at the granddaddy of bike rallies and the few hundred who congregate at events like Slab City. They are the same folks, merely in different plumage. The Sturgis biker crowd prefers shiny baggers, ‘do rags and an almost complete lack of personal fitness. On the other hand, bikeriders at Slab City choose oily old bikes that periodically break down, retro metal flake helmets and fit bodies hidden by copious layers of dirty flannel. Folks in each group happy assimilate to those around them. They are clones. One look at either side’s events proves this by countless people donning near identical clothing, tattoos and bikes. Any standouts are seen as outsiders and usually treated as such.
But hey, exclusion of those who are different is human nature. Monkeys do it too. In all this rigmarole a simple truth has been lost: any event is what you make out of it. Crappy folks need to be waded through to find the good ones. It is up to us to find them. And once discovered, there is fun to be had that bridges taste and viewpoint. I witnessed this years back at the Broken Spoke Saloon in Sturgis. Outside the bar was one of those old-time contraptions where a large hammer is used to drive a metal puck up a tower in hopes of hitting a bell. It is a device rubes use to validate themselves by proving to others just how strong they are. As we sat at a picnic table drinking beer, two guys in leathers and rainbow lens wraparound sunglasses appeared. Ready and willing to exhibit their brawn, they talked a bunch then each tried smashing the striker with all their muscle. Both failed.

They began blaming the machine and everything else their inebriated minds could conjure as a possible scapegoat. JD King—a lanky fellow who soaking wet and tethered to a sack of depleted uranium might weight 130 pounds—quietly watched the event unfold. After the drunken bikers ran out of energy and excuses, JD stepped into the sea of onlookers. Among the Sturgis crowd JD appeared like a man suddenly transported through a wormhole from 1974. Through the hecklers could be heard, “No way that skinny bastard’ll do it!”
Paying no attention to their scoffing, JD lofted the hammer and let it fly. It was immediately clear that he knew what the other men did not: Strength did not ring the striker, but speed of the hammer. It was about momentum. The hammer streaked through the air as it moved towards the impact pad. A thunderous clang! erupted as it made contact with the lever, catapulting the puck skyward. It was a sight to behold. The lanky and quiet man in bell-bottom pants garnered the attention of the entire bar. While the bell did not technically ring, it did not matter. The blow was strong enough and the puck close enough that folks cheered, patted him on the back and offered to buy him a beer. Everyone from our table jumped up to join the celebration. Gilby Clarke happily shuffled around on a gimp leg near a chubby biker in a denim Sturgis shirt. Our friend Grant smiled above the navy blue handkerchief tied neatly about his neck as a toothless old biker spilled his beer in all the excitement.
And there it was. The Jets and the Sharks united. Boundaries evaporated, and for a brief moment we all stood together celebrating a scrawny guy’s victory over a carnival contraption. On our ride home we stopped at a convenience store in Wyoming that likely saw few folks beyond locals. It was overrun with bikers returning home from a week of burnouts and tired rock n’ roll shows. While waiting to fill up my bike, a dude on a Harley slid in front of me and took the pump as the last guy finished. He was a beast of a man with a tough guy appearance obviously honed over years of riding. His jacket proudly exhibited a patch, something about Satan, or Killer or Bandit. Countless others wearing the patch spread around the lot and piled into the store. To myself I thought, “what a douche bag,” then quietly pushed my bike to another pump.
48fred
P.S. Good for you for not being a billy badass and going after him. In my younger days, that was exactly the kind of crap that would have ended with the cops showing up. It's nice being able to let go of that shit and just enjoy the ride.
Hollingdrake
ConceptualSteelDesigns
jasonrenda
partsguy
tiptopdadddy
CRFyou
Chops, long bikes, whatevs... All around a place I have been riding dirt bikes in for years. We were so awesomely out of place there and it didn't matter.
It's what we were doing. The movie night, abbreviated band sets, a bar, dragging a dude through camp on a motorcycle tow rope setup... The small group that rode around the sea.
I think it's a cut above Sturgis because it was so impromptu. And I WISH we had an olde tyme hammer thing! That would be the drunkest, funnest thing ever! Although, someone would have climbed it, while on fire and tried to see how long he could chill there.
Good times...
Dean1565
Buster68
longlivepunk
That being said, I can't stand the bikers who don't like other bikers! :P I'm no badass, I'm a punk-ass kid who rides a bike and drinks and has fun, I've ridden with crotch-rocketeers and old guys on 250 Rebels (ahem, Dad). Fuck it, it's riding all the same and it's fun as hell!!!
cro
I feel blessed to be surrounded by good solid people who have a real love of the road and bikes and even more thankful that they aren't clones of each other. Fuck, that would be boring as hell.
Sorry for the ocean analogies. Fantastic write up!
c
Huero
davidabl
Gbaggs
rider728
Moral of the story:
Have a blast wherever you are and make the fun you want to have yourself!
CMA406
Hollingdrake
Ansutton21
BurlyBrand
If you have not been, there’s something downright otherworldly about Sturgis. In it’s peak, easily a half million quasi like minded folks looking to make as much noise and drink as much beer as physically possible before going back to their non-biker lives (different than Slab City?, well fewer people and about the same number of boats on fire). It’s also a damn beautiful place to ride in and to. No matter the plaid content of your closet, I’d recommend it at least once.
My favorite event over the course of the last few years? Hell on Wheels by a long shot. Crazy mix of all things motorcycle. Also highly recommended.
My point?
I consider myself pretty lucky to have participated in a variety of events across the US (Black Bike Week is awesome, Americade in Upstate NY is frickin’ beautiful and this past Born Free was epic). Each was a hell of an experience that I would suggest to anyone who rides.
Motorcycle market can be a “clicky” space to be in, but at the end of the day we all share a crapload of common ground.
Ride, wrench and ignore the dickheads.
Burly
Buellbomb
I still have the Ford F-150 air gauge I got for ringing that bell.
motorsurf54
The difference is not in the mass(es) it is in the individual. Sturgis is a far different "beast" (or Satan) than a Slab City Riot (*) for that reason. (* replace with any event you prefer).
One could then argue, "They're all of the Devil."
So, pick your friends wisely; The Satan-Killer-Bandit of Whyo'why'oming, or (the real) "Luficer" (who actually has attended all three Slab City RIots~)
gilbygtr
astroxzombie9
astroxzombie9
asiantony
DickFitzwell
WingNut
TemeculaTerry
I dont really fit in anywhere, I truly never have and never will so I ove read like this. I dont believe in kissing ass and to those that need to fit in then thats how you choose your life and the vigors that follow such a life. Some need this and others dont. I believe all should do what they want when they want and how they want so the outcome is strictly theirs and theirs alone... That being said, I will still make fun of you for my own entertainment...
I dont think you needed to defend anything McGoo, you guys are top notch in my book and your known well enough that silence sometimes is the best way to say STFU...
johnnyrebel6
mschneider718
CRFyou
Who is Doctor Kevin Moore? Where do I see his bikes? Is his doctorate legit, like Stephen Hawking, or bunk like the fake doctor from the movie 'Kids'? I believe he called himself the Virgin Surgeon.
TyroninFXR
Buster- Well said, that's how i weed out the fake, the real ones are the ones that are riding because they love riding, the fakes are in it for the fashion show. The skinhead scene is the same, most are fashion skins.
Gbaggs
MadRiverMoCo
Shooter469
lambchopper
All the rallies have cool people and assholes... in the end it's just a destination.. What makes Sturgis cool for me is all the sweet roads and beautiful country in the black hills.. Same reason I totally dug Mountainfest in WV this year. Good riding to get there, good riding when I'm there and cold beer and music at night and other people who like bikes regardless of what kind and why. Hang with the cool people, avoid the dicks and have fun..
fuck it lets ride...
SportyParts
dh29
tinyphil
i could see myself in every situation described in your article. Judging by the response the article generated it's apparent a good number of people seem to have found a chapel with like minded parishners through your words. I'm currently new to the chop scence(but not to riding), but find myself with a preference to the long and groovy sleds, but can see the cool in all things two wheeled. i thank you for one hell of a good read, as short as it was, and look forward to scrolling through your wisdom in the years to come.
To my fellow Deuchebags: keep on riding, and the rest will sort itself out. including the ass holes.
WesD
Thanks for sharing the story about JD.
WesD
Thanks for sharing the story about JD.
KevMoore
KevMoore
I started a website about motorcycles, friends and the open road. If you enjoy for stories about people and bikes then please check out:
http://www.bikesandbuddies.com
You can sign up for email notices when new stories are posted, which will be one every three weeks or so.
Kev