It was high noon and I was somewhere north of Durham, heading Eastward across a dusty road in my Alfa. I was looking for someplace called Frontier Ghost Town, my destination was a weekend long gathering of motorcycles, music and culture called The Bad Livin’ Roadshow.
I heard them before I saw them: a stream of chopped Harleys with tents and blankets and coolers strapped to their sissy bars, forks bobbing up and down over the ruts in the road on their way out of the entrance gate. The riders gathered for a moment, exchanged nods from their open faced helmets, and then let ‘er rip – they were off in a cloud of limestone dust and V Twin noise. That was rad.
I was greeted at the entrance by some very friendly tattooed people wearing motorcycle t-shirts. Driving into the Frontier Ghost Town felt like entering a portal into a world of approachable outlaws.
Parked up in the July sunshine, I headed towards the bikes on display, walking through Old West style buildings with punk rock music blaring from the live band on the centre stage. On the way, I met up with my buddy Kev, aka “the Barn Daddy” from Cosmic Moto Works. Kev was displaying several bikes, including a righteous 70s Triumph Barnfind chopper, an “OG” style shovel head sportster with a “gunfighter” style saddle, and a spotless tracker build.
We pored over the bikes in the open air, pointing out and appreciating the craftsmanship and creativity. There were all sorts of custom builds, like Harley Evos, Shovel heads, Pan heads, even a few Knuckleheads from famed builders like Black Horse Cycle in Bruce County, along with a few Triumphs, even some Yamahas and an old Norton Atlas. Customs ranged from faired high dollar modern day power cruisers with CNC bracketry and LED lights to ratty chops with crazy raked out front ends and suicide shifters.
The paint jobs, molded and raked frames, choices of engines and hard-earned patina on of each of these motorcycles told their stories. Bikes like these are spirits made manifest into metal –souls on display. They’re not about transportation, they’re about freedom of expression – living machines for people who choose to ride on the edge of death.
Everything – and everyone – here was visually and/or aurally expressive. No need to ask, just to look and listen. Communication in this outlaw culture is beyond words, it’s visible, audible, palpable. You can see it in people’s tattooed skin, the paint and rust on their bikes. There was camaraderie and unspoken custom, lots of solid handshakes and big hugs and people pointing to headlights and carburetors, exclaiming, “Right on! That’s badass”.
Beyond the bikes and the ink, there were couples holding hands in the sunshine, a bunch of little kids having the time of their lives, and old bikers happily sharing tales from the old days with the next generations.
The vendor market had motorcycle clothing, great food from the catering trucks, and noted motorcycle artists like Black Widow and Vicky Rhéaume. There was even an onsite tattoo shop and a barber setup in the old saloon.
After hours, showgoers enjoyed camping on the grounds in cool old vans and tents, along with more live rock music and even a few costumed wrestling matches for good measure.
This pleasant blend of outlaw culture made total sense when I was introduced to founder and organizer of the ‘Show, Lee Sipes, aka @panheadjebus. Lee is a chopper guy himself, he’s big and super friendly. We walked around and I asked him about the show. Said Lee, “I bled my whole personality into this thing..it’s kinda become a piece of me.. I don’t know what it is out here [in Grey County] man, I mean, the air is different.”
Lee was right. There was something about the combination of the air, the motorcycles, the sounds, the culture that brought out the best in this group of outlaws. On that day outside of Durham, Bad Livin’ felt damn good.
Words and photos by “Museum” Rob Iantorno
