Meet the Meat Train. This USDA Prime Grade A assortment of boyz and gurl is tearing up the gravel scene like a motherfucking Certified Angus stampede.

Cocky? Hell yeah. And we've got the Rocky Mountain Oysters to back it up.

This ain't your grandpa's gravel. Talent like this is as rare as we take our steaks. And the stakes couldn't be higher.

Oh, you're sick of meat puns already? Not the first time someone's had beef with us.

We call Tulsa home. Already the crit capital of the USA. Our heartland heritage proves we are the gravel capital of the world. We are the crossroads of the burgeoning gravel race scene. Mid South. Unbound. Mother Road Gravel. Big Sugar. Tulsa is at the center of it all. If not here, where? This IS the place.

We may just be some dirty Okies. But a little dirt never hurt anyone.

The Meat Train chugs along hellbent on developing the sport, promoting Oklahoma gravel, and kicking ass on race day. Fiercely disciplined and ruthlessly casual. Let's knock out a century then kick back with an IPA. We don't care if your post-ride beer happens at the trendy coffee shop or under a bridge. We're drinking if you're buying.