El Diablo Run: A Pilgrimage for True Bikers
EDR: From California to Baja – A Tale of Roads, Brotherhood, and Machines
Yannis is a friend, a former colleague, and a biker to the bone. He’s the guy who first told us about the El Diablo Run.
Back in the financial crisis years, he had to leave Greece and decided to chase his dream in the land of muscle cars, greasy burgers, desert highways, rock’n’roll, and, of course, Harleys.
But there was something else waiting for him there...
El Diablo Run!!!
He landed in California, and soon enough he proved his worth, landing a steady job, earning a decent wage, and—most importantly—riding his own Harley-Davidson under the SoCal sun.
One evening, several years ago, chatting over beers online, we asked him how life in the States was going.
That’s when he dropped the bomb.
“Guys, I just scored a used Harley, and I’m getting ready to ride down to El Diablo Run.”
“El what?” we asked, confused. And the rest, as they say, is history.
What Is El Diablo Run?
The El Diablo Run (EDR) is more than just a motorcycle event.
It’s a living legend.
A journey fueled by the raw love of the road, brotherhood, and choppers—ending deep in the Baja California desert, with scorched pistons, worn tires, and wide grins.
In the world of custom motorcycles, where culture often teeters between the authentic and the commercial, EDR stands tall as the most unfiltered, unruly, and unapologetically real chopper run in the Americas—maybe even the world.
The Origin Story
EDR was born in 2006 as a brainchild of Bill Bryant and McGoo, the founders of Biltwell Inc, a then-young company focused on building tough, affordable, well-crafted aftermarket parts for Harleys and custom builds.
But they weren’t just selling parts—they were reviving the spirit of the open road. They wanted to bring riders together the old-school way: by riding.
So they put together a run from Southern California (SoCal) to San Felipe, a sunbaked town on the eastern coast of Mexico’s Baja Peninsula. No pressure, no sponsors, no polished marketing plans.
Just riders. Just the road.
The first edition?
45 men, 2 women, and a whole lot of chopper grit. No support trucks.
Just 300+ miles of sand, potholes, and relentless desert sun.
Though EDR was initiated by Biltwell, the founders made one thing clear: this wasn't about products or profits. It wasn’t a tradeshow—it was a test of soul and steel.
After a few annual runs, reality caught up. By 2010, with Biltwell growing fast and a new platform, ChopCult, taking off, the organizers decided to make EDR a biennial event.
By 2011, social media had made EDR famous. Riders from Germany, the UK, the Netherlands, and Canada were rolling in.
In 2013, about 350 riders showed up in Ensenada. By 2015, the thing was going nuclear.
By 2017, San Felipe became the primary destination—and according to Yannis,“the older it was, the better it was.” (Even though he hasn't missed a single one since 2015.)
By 2021, over 2,500 bikers rolled into San Felipe.
And all of it? Completely chill. Completely grassroots.
The Spirit of EDR: “Run What You Brought”
At its core, EDR is powered by a single phrase:
“Run what you brought.”
Whether it’s a hardtail Panhead from the ‘50s or a beat-up Sportster with more rust than chrome, it’s not about what the bike looks like—it’s about what it means.
Back in the early days, El Diablo Run earned its devilish name.
How many beers can you down before riding like a human being again?
How long before the cops take notice?
How many six-packs does it take before you (accidentally) light yourself on fire?
(You get the picture.)
Every kind of rider shows up at EDR—from hardcore bikers to high school teachers, from mechanics to CEOs.
But they all have one thing in common: a love for motorcycles and the open road.
Even as EDR grew, it never sold out. Sponsorships? Nope. Official vendors? Not really. Everything stayed off the grid, by design.
That’s what keeps it real.
The Route: California to Mexico—No Safety Net
The typical run starts from Temecula or San Diego, crosses the border at Mexicali, and ends in San Felipe, on Baja’s eastern coastline. Rough roads. Brutal heat. No backup. Over 300 miles of risk, grit, and raw freedom.
No authorized garages. No luxury resorts.
No support trucks. No catering.
If it breaks, you fix it—or leave it.
El Diablo in... Baja Paradise
But when you hit San Felipe, everything changes.
The sun is high. Your bike rests in the sand. Cold beers crack open with no need for words.
You earned this.
Then the EDR party kicks off—barbecues, rock’n’roll, spontaneous shows, burnout pits, and wild night rides. The next few days are all about bonding, laughter, and deep respect for the road and the ride.
In recent years, riders have also been giving back—visiting the Sonrise Hacienda orphanage in San Felipe and donating funds specifically raised for the kids, who welcome them with wide eyes and even wider smiles.
EDR Today: Myth Meets Tradition
EDR now happens every two years, and attendance has skyrocketed.
But its soul is untouched.
Why?
Because El Diablo Run isn’t for everyone.
Even after camping on the beach was banned (something Yannis loved because it reminded him of Greece), and even as the numbers grew from dozens to thousands, EDR remained as gritty and real as ever.
It doesn’t welcome posers.
You either have it—or you don’t.
There’s no official website.
No signup forms.
No guarantees.
It’s underground. It’s anti-establishment. It’s honest.
That’s what keeps it alive.
Two Wheel Brothers & El Diablo Run
At Two Wheel Brothers, we recognize our kind.
The bikes we build and sell are made for rides like this—unscripted, wild, and genuine.
We don’t follow trends. Our motorcycles are for those who crave real journeys, not parking lot parades.
Just like El Diablo Run, we believe in open roads, tight engines, and honest machines.
And if you need help making that dream ride happen, we’re here for you—with fair deals and real support.
El Diablo Run: Get lost on the road to find yourself.
EDR is a loud reminder that biker culture wasn’t born in showrooms.
It was born on the road.
In oil. In dust. In gasoline. In asphalt.
In the sacred rhythm of... Don’t hide it. Ride it.
It’s a rebellion against corporate events, sponsored tours, and curated influencer lifestyles.
EDR is history in motion—like the history of Harley-Davidson itself—full of glory, grit, and a few scars.
It’s the call of the road, without GPS. Without sponsors. Without selfies.
Just you, your bike, and the miles ahead.
Photo Credits: Biltwell Inc. and the global biker community.
Thanks for keeping the spirit alive.