Originally Featured In Issue 318 Of Cycle Source Magazine
Article By: AJ Bengoa Photos By: SmokeOut Staff
I’d heard about SmokeOut Rally for years, but this was my first time actually making it to Salisbury, North Carolina. I rode in with a crew from Texas and Oklahoma, and right off the bat, it was clear: this wasn’t just another bike rally. This was something else entirely. SmokeOut has always had this reputation for being the kind of show you stumble into, not plan for, and I get it now. The engines, the smoke, the grit, the people—it all hits you like a punch to the chest. I’ve been to a lot of shows, but nothing felt like this. Honestly, I think this is what everyone else is trying to do, but can’t quite figure out the recipe. For me, it was the greatest old-school, grassroots chopper party I’ve ever seen.
The Rowan County Fairgrounds is nothing fancy. Asphalt, grass, tents, a few vendor trailers—but to the people who’ve been coming for decades, it’s sacred ground. It’s where backyard builders and dreamers got together and made something bigger than themselves. Walking through those gates, I could feel it: this is where the chopper renaissance didn’t just get displayed—it got made.
From the moment we rolled in, even before the sun went down on Thursday, the rain had started. Most rallies would’ve slowed down with weather like that, but SmokeOut? Not a chance. The rain didn’t shut anything down; it added texture. Slick paint, deepened chrome, mud-slicked tires—it all just made everything feel more alive. By Friday night, the rain from the day before had set the stage for perfect dirt drag conditions under the lights, and that’s exactly what went down.
The Dirt Drags were insane. Engines screaming, dirt flying everywhere, and the crowd going nuts. Watching Jeff Fording, Joey Orsini, and Eric Stein battle it out for those Championship Buckles was pure adrenaline. Huge shout to Casey Hopkins for putting those together—they’re more than trophies; they’re a badge of surviving SmokeOut’s mayhem. Trackside, I could feel the vibration of the bikes in my chest. It’s one thing to hear about SmokeOut, but it’s another to stand in the middle of it with the wind from the engines pushing you back.
Then there was the Garage Build-Off. Mike Sekiewicz won the whole thing, and it was his first build ever—a Sportster Chopper that was clean, clever, and brutal. He walked away with a trophy handcrafted by Kevin Shankle, $1,000 cash, and an invite to Mama Tried. Watching Mike roll through that field with his bike, seeing the pride on his face, reminded me why this rally exists. It’s not about sponsors or fancy marketing. It’s about people showing up with what they’ve built, what they’ve dreamed, and laying it all on the line. Every builder there is the heartbeat of SmokeOut.
The Biker Games were a total riot. The ShadeTree Crew ran them like pros, and Danger Dan’s Kickstart Contest, sponsored by Lowbrow Customs, was fast, brutal, and hilarious to watch. New traditions were happening too—the third annual FXR Gathering hosted by Dream Rides of TN was a blast, and Bruce Puglia took home Best Custom FXR. And, man, I have to say, I wasn’t expecting this: SmokeOut has heart. Two couples tied the knot right there in the middle of the madness, and another got engaged. Between the roar of engines and the smell of burnouts, people were making vows and exchanging rings. That’s something you don’t see at every rally. It reminded me that this family is built on more than just horsepower—it’s built on heart.
Then there was the Perewitz Paint Show. Dave Perewitz himself was there, hosting his fourth annual show, and painters were laying down some of the cleanest, most insane work I’ve ever seen. John Jessup walked away with Best Paint of SmokeOut, and I’m telling you, that bike looked like it was alive. Music was nonstop, too. Saving Abel lit up the stage like it was about to melt, and the bands kept coming all day long. SmokeOut isn’t just a rally—it’s a full-on sensory overload, and you don’t get a break.
Saturday was packed with more action. The Cycle Source Custom Bike Show had 110 bikes lined up, and judging was fierce. Rick Dozer took Best of Show and rolled home with a Paughco Rolling Chassis. But the weird, wild, and ridiculous moments? That’s SmokeOut in a nutshell. The Outhouse Drags were absolute chaos. Teams lined up like they were waiting for free bikes, and Dakota came out on top, claiming the gilded toilet seat like a true champion. The 4th Annual World’s Strongest Biker Competition, hosted by Clint at SpeedFreak Motorsports, tested biker braun in men and women alike. And the Mini Bike Misfits ran their legendary mini races—Mason and the crew killed it. XS Speed took Best Costume, but next year? That’s a challenge. You better bring your A-game.
Walking through the Legends Gallery, powered by Law Tigers, I saw 20 world-class builders and four artist displays. Cassio’s Tattoo Booth had a waiting list longer than the burnout pit, and it was worth every second. Tankful raised nearly $10,000 for Meals on Wheels, proving that SmokeOut isn’t just about chaos—it’s about community. Watching people come together, swapping stories, checking out bikes, and sharing meals, I realized this rally really is a living archive.
From the first drag race to the last band on Saturday night, I felt the continuity of the culture. Kids who grew up watching Billy Lane and Roger Bourget videos now stood shoulder to shoulder with the legends themselves. Old-school builders swapped tips with newcomers who’d only ever seen choppers on a screen. That exchange, that passing of the torch, is what makes SmokeOut different. You don’t just see a culture here—you feel it. It’s hands-on, mud-under-your-fingernails, grease-on-your-hands, and heart-in-your-chest kind of real.
Rain or shine, mud or dust, SmokeOut reminded me why we do this: for the ride, the people, and the madness. From dirt flying at the drags to the roar of engines at night, from handcrafted trophies to mini bike chaos, from vows exchanged mid-burnout to the smell of gas and paint in the vendor alleys—it’s the full package. Everything is layered, and nothing is fake. It’s raw, it’s rowdy, and it’s perfect.
When the last bands played and the smoke finally cleared, there was a quiet electricity over the fairgrounds. This wasn’t just an annual gathering; it was a continuation of a lineage. SmokeOut has become one of those events you attend and re-attend, each year adding new stories to old ones. Long before corporate sponsorships and sanitized motor festivals, there was SmokeOut—a rowdy, uncompromising festival of builders, bikers, and rebels who preferred reality to myth.
I’ve already got SmokeOut 26 on my calendar, September 10-13. Be ready for anything: rain, shine, or mud up to your knees. Most importantly, bring respect, curiosity, and a willingness to talk shop. SmokeOut isn’t just a rally—it’s living history. And if you’re lucky enough to show up, you’ll feel it the second you ride in: the engines, the smoke, the chaos, the camaraderie, the heart.
For me, for the Texas-Oklahoma crew I rode with, and for anyone lucky enough to be there, SmokeOut 2025 was the perfect storm of grit, talent, and chaos. This is the blueprint. This is the party everyone else is trying to recreate. But here’s the thing: SmokeOut isn’t a formula you can copy. You can’t sell it or bottle it. You either show up and feel it—or you don’t. And I got to feel it, front row, engine-throbbing, mud-slicked, and heart-pounding. SmokeOut is the real deal. It’s a mess, a roar, a rush, and a family all rolled into one. And if you ever get the chance to ride through those gates, don’t think twice. Just roll in, grease your hands, and join the madness.
