WHITE LIGHTNING HARLEY-DAVIDSON: WHERE THE TRAIL BEGINS

The morning I left Nashville, it felt like the weather had been special-ordered. Blue skies and the kind of clean, breathable air you only get after a string of summer thunderstorms, with temps just warm enough to ride in a T-shirt without thinking twice, but you put on a jacket for good measure anyway.

I packed up my hard bags on the 2025 Street Glide I had on loan from Harley and EagleRider and hit I-24, heading southeast toward Chattanooga.

That stretch of road doesn’t get the love it deserves. Most people blow right through, watching the miles tick down without ever looking around.

But if you pay attention, there’s a quiet rhythm to it. You start by cutting through the edges of Middle Tennessee, hugging hills wrapped in brushy green.

The trees lean in close and pull you into it. Then, past Tullahoma and through Manchester, the road starts to rise.

You climb into the thick of Monteagle Mountain, a notorious stretch for truckers but a damn scenic ride for anyone on two wheels.

Guardrails twist along the ridges, the canopy pulls apart, and for a few minutes, the view opens up. You can see out across the tops of trees, into wide pockets of forest that sit untouched between the hollers and towns.

And just when it starts to feel like it’s all winding down, you cross the river and drop into the valley. Chattanooga comes gradually and quietly into view to remind you that you’ve arrived somewhere that knows who it is.

By the time I hit the outskirts, it already made sense why a place like White Lightning H-D would lean so hard into adventure riding. With all this wild, unspoiled country in every direction, building a community around exploring it is basic instinct.

White Lightning Harley-Davidson sits a few turns off the highway, tucked in on Lee Highway with a name that sounds more like a southern rock band than a dealership.

I pulled into the lot and immediately clocked about 20 people posted up out front, standing around with coffees in hand and shooting the breeze.

A couple guys nodded when I parked and peeled off my helmet. And, of course, one of them walked over, pointed at the Street Glide, and asked how I liked it.

Before I knew it, Shawn Wells, White Lightning’s General Manager, was standing next to me, greeting me with the kind of energy you only get from someone who genuinely loves where he works.

We’d been talking back and forth on Instagram for a while before this, hyping the visit and tossing ideas around. I had the feeling that he and I would be fast friends, and it was nice to get it confirmed before I even entered the building.

White Lightning isn’t the kind of dealership that gets stuck in its ways. Shawn will tell you flat-out that moldability is the name of the game here. That’s the word he keeps coming back to.

“We’re not rigid. We’re not stuck doing things the way they’ve always been done,” Shawn says. “What we’re chasing is relevance. Community. Utility. Something that actually matters to the people who ride.”

And they’ve found that by leaning hard into a segment that many dealerships are still figuring out: adventure riding.

The Pan America program at White Lightning is on another level. It’s not just a couple bikes pushed off into the corner or a dusty flier for a training course. This place lives and breathes the platform.

According to Shawn, their service department ranks number one in the country for Rev Max and Pan America work, which, if you know how picky ADV riders can be, says a hell of a lot.

Shawn tells me the whole thing started because he kept breaking his own bike, and found it as an opportunity to grow the shop and learn these new motorcycles.

“I figured if I was going to ride it hard, we better have the service department to keep us rolling. We then started to offer weekend seminars to help educate our new style of riders coming states away.” Our motto is: “When you buy a Pan America from us, you’re not just buying a bike. You’re buying into the 423 Dirt Crew, a system, and a way to stay ready for whatever comes next.”

He points out the window at a guy locking up his helmet outside. “That dude rode four hours this morning just to get his bike serviced here,” he says. “We connect with people like him all the time.”

The ADV program includes a monthly series of Dirt Dayz rides offering mostly off-pavement routes. With the help of some loyal, experienced riders to help plot and guide these rides.

And what started as a small group of eight or nine riders has ballooned to groups of 40 or more on certain occasions.

They leave from the dealership, run challenging-but-doable terrain, and wrap things up at spots that make it worth the trip. But it’s not just the ride, it’s what happens on the ride that matters.

“You get out on these trails,” Shawn says, “and nobody cares what you’re riding. If you need help, people stop. It brings out something good in everyone.”

That same sense of accessibility and support shows up in other parts of the dealership, too.

The place feels more like a clubhouse than a sales floor. People hang out here. They don’t just drop in to grab a part or drop off a bike. They linger. They talk. They share stories.

There’s coffee and laughter and more than a few middle fingers getting thrown in friendly jest.

Shawn tells me it didn’t always come easy and that building community takes work.

“ADV riders are a tough crowd. You can’t fake it with them, and you sure as hell can’t force it,” Shawn says. “You’ve got to show up, over and over, and prove you’re in it for real. That’s how trust gets built out here.”

And when the people see that you’re serious, they show up, too. That’s what makes the culture here feel real. It’s not some prefab idea of the biker lifestyle. It’s just honest, local, and rooted in the needs and wants of the people who ride.

“That’s the secret,” he says.

By the time I was packing up to leave, the lot was still full.

I shook Shawn’s hand, gave him a hug, and thanked him for the time. But more than that, for the energy and for building a place that makes you want to come back.

I know I’ll be back, anyway. Hopefully on one of Shawn’s weekend Dirt Dayz rides (*cough cough*).

Everything they do here, from the rides to the training to the way they greet you in the parking lot, feels rooted in something honest. And in a world that moves fast and forgets easily, that kind of intention sticks with you.

If you’re riding through Chattanooga, turn off at Lee Highway and roll into 7720. It’s the kind of place that earns your respect without having to ask for it. And if you’re looking for service on your Rev Max or Pan America bike, give them a shout at (423) 892-4888.

https://www.whitelightningharley-davidson.com/