By Jessica Kenley

AUSTIN, PA — If you walked into the Austin Dam ruins last Saturday expecting to find trouble, you would have had to look pretty hard.

Instead, you would have found motorcycles, campers, vendors, food, cold drinks, loud laughter, ridiculous hats, people dressed head-to-toe in red, white and blue, and a whole lot of hugs and handshakes.

Most importantly, you would have found a group of people who genuinely seemed to enjoy one another.

The occasion was ABATE’s annual “That Damn Party,” held Aug. 15 at the Austin Dam ruins. The party has been going on for four decades, although its location and name have changed over the years. This is the fourth year the event has been held at the Austin Dam.

Bill Shick, who has been involved with the event, said the party has been around for 40 years.

“This party has been going on a long time,” Shick said, explaining that proceeds from the event are returned to the community through charitable giving.

And that is really what the weekend is about.

ABATE members use the event as a fundraiser, with money raised going toward local charitable causes. The beneficiaries include fire departments, organizations helping children and families, food banks, and other community needs. The group also supports efforts such as The Christmas House for children in need.

It is philanthropy wrapped in a weekend party.

People camp at the dam, cook together, socialize around campfires, and spend several days enjoying the company of friends — some of whom have been returning for decades.

One couple I spoke with, Brandy and Jason Tapper, had traveled from the Penfield area and arrived Thursday for the weekend. Brandy is the Treasurer for her ABATE chapter, called Chinklacamoose. 

They joked that some call it “Chicken and Moose Chapter,” because they can’t pronounce it. 

The Chinklacamoose Chapter of ABATE of PA (Alliance of Bikers Aimed Toward Education) serves Clearfield County, Pennsylvania, and frequently collaborates on regional motorcycle awareness, charity runs, and community events near areas like Penfield, DuBois, and Clearfield. The Tappers had come with 27 other people to attend this event.

Brandy works in an office supply store in her “real life,” but volunteering and giving back is really what she’s about, she made sure to make clear.

When asked what they liked most about the event, the answer came quickly.

“The people,” Brandy said.

“Everybody’s family,” Jason added.

“Friends. Everybody helps. That’s what we’re about. That’s what we want to do.”

That sentiment was repeated again and again throughout the afternoon.

Even as someone who knows very little about motorcycles, I was welcomed without hesitation. When I told Dave Brewster, one of the people responsible for putting the event together, that I didn’t ride and didn’t really know anything about motorcycles, his response was simple.

“We really don’t care if you have one or not, or ride one,” he said.

I asked if that meant I could still have a good time.

“That’s all right,” he replied. “You can still have a good time.”

That attitude seemed to summarize the entire weekend.

More family than stereotype

Motorcycle culture sometimes carries stereotypes that have little resemblance to the people actually standing in front of you.

At That Damn Party, I met people who were working regular jobs, raising families, volunteering, cooking meals, running businesses, helping their communities, and talking enthusiastically about motorcycles that their parents and grandparents had ridden.

One attendee talked about having motorcycles in his family for generations, including a great-grandfather who rode an Excelsior Henderson decades ago.

“That motorcycle doesn’t exist today,” he said.

Another part of ABATE’s mission is education and advocacy for motorcycle safety and riders’ rights. Members discussed teaching motorists how to recognize motorcycles on the road and understand how something as ordinary as debris in a lane can pose a much greater danger to a motorcycle than to a car.

The organization has also advocated for motorcycle riders in Harrisburg and worked on issues affecting their rights.

But on Saturday, politics and advocacy took a back seat to fellowship.

There were people sitting around fires, cooking breakfast and dinner, sharing food, shopping with vendors and simply enjoying being together.

And they were having fun.

A weekend that takes all year to prepare

Rebecca Brewster, President of the ABATE club, said she just took over this year. Her husband previously served as President for eight years.

Putting the party together is no small undertaking.

“It takes all year,” Brewster said.

The band and promotional flyers are arranged before January, and planning continues throughout the year.

The event begins Thursday and continues through Sunday, bringing campers and visitors from well beyond Potter County.

Brewster estimated that this year’s gathering drew approximately 300 to 350 people. Attendees come from surrounding states and, according to Brewster, even as far away as Florida.

That makes the gathering more than a local party.

It’s a reunion.

“It is like a family,” Brewster said.

And perhaps that explains why people keep coming back.

A farewell tour with a lot of heart

Among the people I met was Linda Price, who was celebrating an unusually personal milestone at the party.

Linda has breast cancer and was preparing to undergo a double mastectomy. Rather than allow the difficult circumstances to overshadow her spirit, she decided to turn the moment into one last celebration.

She had a special T-shirt made for the occasion — a lighthearted “farewell tour” — and asked friends and visitors to sign it, calling it, “A last farewell of my ta-ta’s,” before her surgery next month.

I was honored to be one of them.

Linda’s friends, including Jody Locke, laughed with her, posed for pictures, and celebrated her determination to find a little humor and joy during what must be an incredibly difficult chapter of her life.

There was something profoundly human about watching everyone rally around her.

Nobody was treating her illness as a tragedy to be whispered about in a corner.

They were celebrating Linda.

They were making memories with her.

And they were giving her exactly what she seemed to want: one last ridiculous, joyful party, before life changed in a very serious way.

“It is like a family”

By the time I left the Austin Dam, I had talked to quite a few people, and the overwhelming message was remarkably consistent.

The favorite part was the people.

The camaraderie.

The feeling that everyone belongs.

Brewster admitted that organizing an event of this size can be stressful, but when asked whether the group plans to keep doing it, she didn’t hesitate.

“It’s hard to give up because, like I said, it is like a family,” she said.

That family extends beyond the people wearing ABATE colors.

It includes the friends who show up year after year, the vendors, the campers, the volunteers, the people who cook the food, the people who donate money, and the people who simply come out to have a good time while helping raise money for their neighbors.

There are certainly motorcycles at an ABATE party.

There is also beer, music, laughter, and the kind of adult silliness that probably wouldn’t fit neatly into a church picnic.

But there is something else there, too.

Community.

And perhaps the best way to challenge an old stereotype is not with an argument, but with a weekend spent watching people take care of one another.

At the Austin Dam last Saturday, hundreds of bikers and friends weren’t there to cause trouble.

They were there to laugh.

They were there to celebrate.

They were there to welcome a stranger who showed up with a camera and a notebook.

And, most importantly, they were there to raise money to help people in their own communities.

For 40 years, that’s been worth coming back for.