The Born Free 16 Motorcycle Show unfolded June 21–22 at Oak Canyon Park in Silverado, California. What began in 2009 as a small, ragtag gathering of vintage chopper aficionados has roared into a full‑blown movement. Year 16 drew roughly 25,000 visitors and over 200 vendors, with invitations extended to around 30 invited builders whose machines set the tone for the weekend.
Here is a gallery of our favorites from the Invited Builders Corral:
What’s remarkable—and refreshingly analog—is how grounded Born Free remains. It’s about real metalwork, the hum of improvisation, and the sparks that fly when raw creativity meets solid steel.
Traditional choppers held court with reverent nods to timeless machines: daredevil Knuckleheads, Shovelheads, Panheads, and pre‑unit Triumphs rolled in, lovingly customized and polished allowing the sun to brighten your eyes. These aren’t museum pieces—they’re ridden, lived with, bared in their beauty.
Show‑stopper included Ryan Grossmann’s 1946 Knucklehead and the Neefus Brothers’ pre‑unit Triumph, which snagged Best in Show—and a coveted ticket to Mooneyes Custom Show in Yokohama.
But this isn’t a time warp. Modern design whispered through in subtler ways. Builders continue to push their personal boundaries, turning Softail models into artistic expressions in home workshops—six such machines were spotlighted in a Harley‑Davidson feature as fresh interpretations of a modern platform. The balance of heritage design and modern powerplants let long‑liners rub elbows with steel‑framed ingenuity.
There’s a soundtrack to this weekend, one of tools dropped, bike talk low and loud, and the roar of fuel mixed with laughter. Vendors do brisk business under the oaks; beer, conversations, and oily stories are swapped like currency. I was there working with sponsor Burns Stainless. See the galleries at the links below. The Ives Brothers’ Wall of Death painted the day with stunts and old‑school daredevilry. The AMCA Swap Meet invited hands‑on scavenging for parts, wild ideas, and the stuff you actually need.
There’s no velvet rope between builder and spectator. Registrations are voluntary, awards are few, but the rewarding feeling lingers: “I rode in, built from the ground up, and damn it all if someone didn’t walk away thinking about building their own,” is the unspoken takeaway.
At its core, Born Free isn’t a show—it’s a statement. Motorcycles here are more than transportation; they’re symbols of freedom, rebellion, ingenuity, and community. A rider doesn’t leave exhausted; they leave with hunger: hunger to create, to ride, to belong. It’s the smell of oil, rich with possibility.
Born Free 16 offered a lesson in how tradition endures when treated with respect and a dash of rebellion. This is where the past rides into the sunset—and ignites something new.
And even more from our friends at Burns Stainless below.
