SUNDANCE — The first burnout at the Dime Horseshoe Bar was completely unscripted.
According to legend as told to the iconic Sundance Bar’s current owners, Jess and Casey Jones, a patron of the bar had announced he was going to do a burnout with his motorcycle right there in the bar.
The owner, however, was having none of that.
“You are NOT doing that in here,” she told him, grabbing a broom. “You can go outside and do that.”
Then she started beating the biker out of her bar with the broom.
No one recalls if a crowd gathered outside to watch that first burnout by that rowdy, and possible a little juiced-up, bar patron. But it was the week of Sturgis Motorcycle Rally, with lots of bikers rolling through this northeast Wyoming town.
It wouldn’t be a stretch for a crowd to gather and urge a brother on until he finally popped a tire.
Nor would it be unlikely for a few others to roll in their bikes to join their biker brother in a cloud of black smoke glory.
No doubt, the black smoke looked like the Sundance Bar was on fire from a distance.
In some ways, it was — and still is — on fire.
It’s the soul fire that’s sparked by the Sturgis Rally itself, and it’s been burning in Sundance ever since that first legendary burnout 49 years ago.
Ride The Peanut Shells
The Dime Horseshoe Bar takes its name from the horseshoe pattern that’s been inlaid into the bar top using silvery dimes.
An iconic neon sign of old also still tops the bar, along with an old motorcycle that’s been wrapped with Christmas lights hanging off the roof, as if it’s about to jump, riderless, into the street below.
Normally, the inside of the bar has stools, as well as scattered tables and chairs, but not for Burnout Wednesday during Sturgis rally week. All of the furniture has been taken out of the bar, and it’s standing room only.
Piles of peanut shells also cover the floor. There are so many of them, the drifts resemble haystacks at first, though there are no horses or other livestock in sight.
A waitress told Cowboy State Daily that this is an old-fashioned method of cheaply polishing and cleaning floors. Supposedly, the peanut shells have enough residual oil remaining in them that the hundreds of people walking back and forth on them going in and out the door during rally week helps condition the wooden floors.
Whether this actually works, it’s wise to walk carefully through the peanut shell drifts. They offer little friction for those walking quickly through — even with rubber-soled hiking boots that have good tread.
“I almost fell down myself,” a waitress confided to Cowboy State Daily.
Once A Morgue
While it’s a lively bar scene in Sundance today, the Dime Horseshoe Bar was once a morgue, Jess Jones told Cowboy State Daily.
“I still have the original body doors on the outside of the beer coolers,” she said.
While it may have started out as a place of death, the bar is always lively on burnout day. Crowds gather early both in and outside of the bar. They ring the ramp where the burnout starts at 4 p.m.
The ramp is one of several things Jess has added to make the event better for the contestants. It puts them up high in the sky, giving the crowd a better view. It also protects the crowd from the chunks of hot rubber that fly off the tires during the burnout, accumulating in little piles of what looks like soft, black coal.
Another recent addition to the event is a team of tire mechanics. Before the burnout, they remove a bike’s existing tire and replace it with an old used tire scavenged from area garages.
After the burnout, the tire crew puts the former tire back on, and the rider is good to go again in no time.
Burning out isn’t difficult, mechanic Ranger Cole told Cowboy State Daily.
“It’s all about knowing your bike, and not being afraid to push the limits a bit,” Cole said. “That’s how you do it.”
Never Fade Away
Cory Rand, of Wisconsin, helping the tire team remove his tire, told Cowboy State Daily he’s played around with burnouts a few times in parking lots — mostly for a little smoke and noise.
“Nothing like this though,” he said. “I’ve seen it plenty of times, though, and it’s kind of been like a bucket-list thing.”
The Sundance Burnout was perfect for him to check that off his list.
But he plans to be back, adding that he likes the event itself and the way Sundance carries itself.
“I like how all these little towns come together to take part in Sturgis and keep this culture alive,” he said. “This is good stuff. It’s nice to come out here, and all the town folk are super nice for putting up with us, tolerating this, and stuff like that.”
Rand, who is a veteran, said this was a place where he felt he could be himself.
“This is a good climate,” he said. “I’ve got buddies and stuff that have had a hard time trying to fit into society. And this is cool. It’s an opportunity for people to come out and be themselves. If you want to wear something goofy, everybody’s gonna be like, ‘I like it.’”
Forget About Life For A While
The burnout doubles as a fundraiser for veterans each year, but it’s also very big for the Dime Horseshoe Bar.
It’s like Christmas in August, Jess told Cowboy State Daily.
“This is our biggest event of the year,” she said. “These bikers are part of the reason why our bar is so successful. If we didn’t have them, we would not have this business. We would not be successful, so we rely on them. We love them, and we care about their safety.”
When burnout time comes, the cheers and screams from the crowd are the final arbiter of who wins first, second and third places.
The crowd, meanwhile, is influenced by how much smoke each rider produces, as well as how good a show they put on while tearing up some rubber. Some people wear costumes and do stunts, or they have a partner ride with them to jazz things up.
The crazier it all looks, the more the crowd loves it.
When it is her turn to do the exhibition burnout, Jess pulls on a pair of tall, black burnout boots to loud cheers from the crowd.
Her husband drives the bike this time, and she rides on his lap, facing him. Her job — and she knows it well — is to whip up the crowd and make them feel good about life for a while.
The front tire of the bike is locked into a metal holder. A member of the tire crew braces himself against it to ensure the bike is steady as she goes.
The engine starts revving and the smoke builds, slowly at first. A fan blows the harsh black smoke away from their faces so they can breathe now and then, while a different member of the tire crew sprays the tire with water so that there’s no actual fire with the smoke.
Soon, the fan is overpowered and both Jess and Casey are dim figures in a pall of acrid smoke. It’s impossible to see or hear anything too clearly at this point, but the crowd is loving it.
When the tire finally pops, Jess gives her husband a big kiss and lets the crowd know it was his very first burnout ride.
And it honestly couldn’t have been more perfect than that. Everyone was feeling good and loving life for a while, just like that first biker kicked out of the Dime Horseshoe Bar nearly a half century ago.
Contact Renee Jean at renee@cowboystatedaily.com
Renée Jean can be reached at renee@cowboystatedaily.com.