“And Why Is That Guy in Assless Chaps Eating Funnel Cake?”
If you’ve ever found yourself stuck in traffic behind a man wearing a Confederate flag do-rag on a trike while eating a turkey leg, congratulations—you’ve survived a Myrtle Beach Bike Week. Maybe. There are three of them. And unless you’re fluent in engine noises and leather hieroglyphics, it’s anyone’s guess which one is happening at any given moment.
Around here, Bike Week is less of an event and more of a seasonal condition. Like pollen, but louder. And with more back tattoos.
And listen—I’m not a biker, per se. I’ve been on them, both Harleys and sport bikes but I don’t know all the different Harley styles nor all of Honda. But what I do know is that I LOVE them all and I know what happens when the bikers descend. So for my fellow locals, confused tourists, and people who just want to buy milk without a police escort, here’s your survival guide to the Three Faces of Myrtle Beach Bike Week.
1. Harley Bike Week (Spring Rally)
When: Mid-May
Vibe: Loud—but actually pretty chill.
This is the rally that gives Bike Week its reputation, and honestly? The folks who show up for the Spring Harley Rally are, for the most part, cool. They’re loud, yes. Your living room will vibrate like a church bass drum for a solid week. But these are seasoned, friendly people who genuinely love bikes, freedom, and three-egg breakfasts.
You’ll see couples in matching leather vests, soft-serve ice cream in one hand and a vape the size of a travel mug in the other. They’re here for the ride, the vibe, and the pancakes. The worst offense you’ll witness is someone taking up two parking spaces because their bike is “vintage.”
Bonus: they tip well, don’t trash the beach, and will almost always help you jump your car if you ask nicely and compliment their beard.
2. Atlantic Beach Bikefest (aka Black Bike Week)
When: Memorial Day Weekend
Vibe: Chaos on two wheels with a side of traffic trauma.
This is where things go from “fun weekend” to “I should’ve left town last Tuesday.”
Black Bike Week brings in tens of thousands of people. And with them: blinking neon bikes, shirtless men doing wheelies at 2 a.m., and enough bass to rupture a spleen. Also arriving in force: the Myrtle Beach Police Department, who, based on their sheer numbers, seem to believe an alien invasion is imminent.
Locals? We bunker down. Why? Because they block off Ocean Boulevard and make it one-way, set up roadblocks on every third corner, and turn the entire Grand Strand into a maze with no exit. You want to go to CVS? Good luck, Brenda. You’re detouring through Georgia.
And while the fashion and energy are unmatched—seriously, someone once wore a full rhinestone jumpsuit while doing donuts in a hotel parking lot—the trash situation is… apocalyptic. Think: beach coolers abandoned mid-sidewalk, chicken wing bones in the surf, and someone’s weave extension flapping from a storm drain.
Crime rates also take a joyful leap that weekend, so you’ll see enough police lights to host a rave and more helicopters than a Marvel movie. It’s like the city is prepping for both a block party and a state of emergency. And sometimes, both happen at once.
3. Fall Bike Week (Mini Harley Week)
When: Late September
Vibe: Harley Week, but everyone’s in bed by 9 and wearing SPF 50.
Fall Bike Week is like the encore nobody asked for, but everyone politely attends. It’s smaller, older, and somehow even louder, despite fewer bikes. It’s got the same vibe as a reunion tour from your favorite band—familiar, nostalgic, and a little slower-paced because knees aren’t what they used to be.
You’ll see the same leather vests from May, only with a few more mustard stains. The bikes still shine, but the riders spend more time talking about Medicare than mufflers. There’s a lot of “Remember in ’96 when…” and “I should really cut back on red meat” energy.
Low drama, low chaos, decent breakfast buffets. If you’re going to accidentally end up in a Bike Week, this is the one to do it.
4. Bonus Round: Clueless Tourist Bike Week
When: Constant. Perpetual. Eternal.
Vibe: “Did we accidentally book our vacation during The Purge?”
These are the sweet Midwesterners who booked a Myrtle Beach family getaway with dreams of quiet beach strolls and seafood buffets, only to discover their hotel balcony overlooks a burnout pit.
You’ll spot them in monogrammed T-shirts and orthopedic sandals, clutching sunhats and looking utterly betrayed. They Google phrases like, “What is a slingshot car?” and “Are assless chaps legal in public?”
If you pass them, offer a gentle nod of solidarity. They’re not ready for what’s coming.
Final Thoughts from the Eye of the Storm
Myrtle Beach Bike Weeks are a rite of passage. You either love them, leave town for them, or use them as an excuse to day-drink and people-watch. You’ve either learned to love Bike Week(s) or you’ve invested in blackout curtains and a strong Wi-Fi connection. There’s no in-between.
Me? I say lean in. Roll your windows down. Let the smell of leather, ocean air, and fried Oreos mix in your soul. Say yes to funnel cake, nod back at the guy in a leather vest with no shirt, and remember: every time a motorcycle revs at 2 a.m., an angel gets its wings—or at least a speeding ticket.
Just don’t ask which Bike Week it is. You’ll get 12 different answers, and somehow, they’re all right.
Whether you’re here for the vibes or just stuck in traffic screaming into a paper bag, one thing’s for sure: Myrtle Beach will keep it interesting.