CHOPS AND JAPS
In the middle of all the contention, other developments were occurring that would change biking forever - and then keep changing it.
The art of the motorcycle became more outrageous, and the chopper now emerged as the ultimate vehicle for existentialist and macho types alike. The evolutionary descendant of the bobber, it too was stripped of any surplus parts. But the personalisation didn’t stop there. The frame and other parts would be re-fashioned and re-painted, often in lacquered metal flake, with beautiful colours and purposeful designs worked in. Smaller chrome head and tail lights were fitted, the seats were custom made, and many sundries like the side-stand and chain-guard were chromed. A variety of stylish handlebars began to reach ever upwards and rearwards, culminating in Ape Hangers, many of which would themselves be fitted to risers - a bracket fitted between the bars and the top yoke, which held the forks. At the same time, footrests and foot controls moved ever forwards, resulting in the distinct spread-eagled riding position.
Some had their engines tuned, and most had the engine cases polished and engraved. The grab-rail, or cissy-bar as they’re called in the US, had things like swords and Iron Crosses incorporated. This rail runs behind the seat for passengers to hold onto, and grew in height and proportions to include a backrest. Exhausts began as upswept tubes with little or no baffling, then found their way up alongside the backrest, creating an exaggerant swept back appearance. Originally in the US, two Harley petrol tanks were cut in half and rejoined, using the sides with the filler caps. The now twin-capped tanks would then be re-shaped into the tear-drop that was so popular. They eventually assumed other shapes, like the Zeppelin and sarcophagus.
While the rear wheels grew ever fatter, the front wheels became slimmer. Front brakes were omitted, and in the late 60s, the addition of extended forks enhanced an already frantic statement. Telescopic forks were most common, but many opted to re-work the old girder type, chroming the external springs. The frames were re-worked to compensate for the lift caused by elongated forks, placing the bikes closer to the ground. They also grew in length, and acquired rigid tails. The rear suspension would be removed from more modern bikes with swinging arms to achieve this. Most importantly, their creators were as free as any artist. The chopper screamed YES to custom bike lovers. Besides being a personalised statement, it assumed the voice of freedom through protest, objecting to the straights who stuck the boot into Bikers and shouted NO. You no longer simply carried proclamation of belief in your head or amid your regalia - you could ride it through the streets.
During this time, the Servicar was being made into the first custom trike. Following the chopper idiom, it was a refreshing concept for three-wheel fans who had nothing more than the old bike spin-offs to contend with. A saying emerged among those not so keen on the re-designing of bikes in any style, stating that: “Chrome won’t getcha home.” It inferred that attention to mechanical reliability should be foremost on the bike builder’s agenda, but a tongue in cheek reply asked: “Who’s going home?”
Despite its growing popularity, Harley-Davidson ignored the chopper movement, regarding it as something to do with the undesirable rebel factions. Some retail outlets capitalised on this, while others catered to it. After the bobber and Outlaw related fiascoes, back alley garages were still the only place where riders of non-standard bikes met with helpful service. The stock piles of old model Harley spares allowed customisers to keep their machines going.
Eventually, through the interests of Hollywood in biking fantasy, HD became interested in a custom market of its own. Firms like Jammers and Sifton were selling custom built bikes, so why not HD? They realised they couldn’t go on trading by ignoring customers, as after-market sales were outdoing them. Son of the elder Mr. Davidson, William G. Davidson, dumped his executive suit, allegedly to go in search of what people wanted. He wore leathers and Levi’s and went round bars and other Biker haunts to examine the custom chopper cult. He introduced a factory custom to the HD line, but it seemed too little too late. HD prices were rising, and those that bought factory customs were looked upon by the original customisers unfavourably. It was aboard the factory custom, that the Rich Urban Biker (RUB) was becoming an identifiable ‘other’.
The chopper phase brought new US publications into being. Cycle World, in 1962 was pro-rider, not dealer. Street Chopper, which arrived around 1965, followed in the same vein. Counterfeit HD parts were being manufactured at lower prices than originals, and advertised in these mags. The debates in the custom chopper magazine movement were concerning themselves with ideologies, not just techno talk. The Easy Riders, Supercycle and Iron Horse magazines enjoyed what was described in 60’s parlance as a more basic ‘free swinging Biker lifestyle’. They were very pro HD, showing a loathing for Japanese bikes. It was a move away from the straight magazine ideal, but along with the launch of idealism, some began a trend for porn and profanity that sustained poor opinions of Bikers. They contained retro photos, which harked back to the recent HD dominance. Gang mentality prevailed among some of their readership, who also used profane expressions of ideology on back-patches and Tee-shirts, and in the letters they submitted to the magazines. Crude as this may seem, much of it supported clubs like the Modified Motorcycle Association (MMA), and Abate, who campaigned against restrictive laws.
Events like the Sturgis annual meeting were growing into a form of gathering that became the formula for future social-type bike rallies. It became a Bacchanalian event, featuring beer belly, tattoo, and nude women competitions. Meanwhile, straight Bikers had begun to realise that not all tattooed denim-wearing people were bad. The alleged ‘rebs’ shared the live and let live philosophy, and had supported charities, giving blood as well as cash. It was realised that the movies had cast Bikers as baddies. About seventy films that perpetuated the stereotype had been made up to and around Easy Rider. Quoting Harley-Davidson historian Harry V. Sucher sums up the state of the modified motorcycle enthusiast as a Biker. He said: “The majority of the custom aficionados were not outlaws in the usual sense, or preoccupied by their unsavory depredations, but rather free thinking Bohemians clothed in leather and iron, who reveled in individualistic freedom and gloried in the macho image.”
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Prior to, and running through the entire chop debacle, a more formalised venture into motorcycle re-structuring also had irreversible effects. The French, the British, and then the Germans had lead the earliest fields of bike manufacture. French manufacturing never really recovered from W.W.II, and German machines tended towards lumbering reliability. It seemed that bike development had reached its zenith, and the British firms were content to turn out machines based on designs, which by this time were forty years old. It was to be their undoing, especially as they’d ignored little clues that were indicating things to come. Like 1950’s newspaper headlines that had reprimanded the Japanese for replicating Lucas electrics, and for imitating BSA motorcycles.
Early attempts at motorcycle manufacture in Japan had been based on copies of European and American machines. Some even copied these copies, and prior to their developing some technical prowess, there was a lack of quality and reliability. During the post W.W.II period, Japan, along with Taiwan and China, had a bad reputation for inferior quality goods - little plastic transistor radios and novelty items. Plastic was viewed as impracticable and tasteless.
The worst anti-Japanese feeling was among those who still held a dislike stemming from the Japanese involvement in W.W.II. It tainted younger thinking, and in some respects, the Japanese had as much courage as the early Bikernauts in the face of hostile cultures. Their machines were dubbed Rice Mills and other derogatory names like Jap-Crap. Rice Mill did however become adopted as inverse praise.
Towards the end of the 1960’s, British bike manufacturers had resisted the Italian and German efforts at domination. Yet due to delusions concerning quality, they rested on their laurels while the Japanese put in ever harder work. In November of 1959, Honda announced a 50cc model in the US Cycle magazine, and this model alone would make vast inroads into the commuter market, earning money and a better reputation for Honda. This allowed other Japanese makes to be considered more fairly in the West. After the initial influx of quick-rust tiddlers, well researched and developed machines with seemingly unburstable engines capable of more and more exhilarating performance, poured in from the East.
The rest of the world, like MV Augusta, BMW and Harley-Davidson continued to produce and develop machines, but had no answer to these intruders that had been ignored as copies. Because what the Japanese are good at, is making copies that are better than the original. Experts have said that one reason for the Japanese success was that their market was fed by the postwar baby boom. Other countries followed Japan’s lead, but not always with the same degree of success. Taiwan, for example, had built complete replica bikes based on the HDs sold to them in earlier years.
The first Japanese appearances had come in the form of visits, then entries from Honda, into the TT during the 1950s. However, they met with success sooner than they had anticipated. Along with Kawasaki, Yamaha and Suzuki, they managed to attract well-known riders and technicians from the West, and eventually their own people began turning out larger bikes.
At street-level, the invasion had begun with a ceiling of around 400cc. Under the name of Megura, one firm had produced a big twin (essentially a BSA copy) for the home market. They were bought out by the Kawasaki concern and assumed that name. But apart from the appearance, the Japanese were now applying their own ingenuity to the working parts. Kawasaki enjoyed greater success in the West with a range of three-cylinder models, particularly the 500cc H1 Mach 3. Its performance (if not its handling) were staggering. Yamaha enjoyed success when they introduced their XS 650, of a similar design to the Megura. It looked set to oust the Triumph Bonneville; however, the cheap production methods meant that poor build quality didn’t attract many converts. The tin-ware on early imports had sharp edges, chrome soon tarnished, and engine castings weren’t finished with a polish in places you couldn’t see. It took the Western enthusiasts some time to accept that this was a fact of life... Who’s worried about such things when they can buy a faster, more reliable bike for less money?
Technologically, things were moving rapidly in the bike world. The high-revving Flexiflyers, as multi-cylinder two-strokes became known, had shattering performance. While many single-make clubs had folded due to the disappearance of older marques, new ones were now being formulated around the Japanese makes. As a result of the Japanese bike’s growing popularity, American product was backsliding. The US police forces were now buying Kawasaki’s Kz 1 (the US version of the Z1) and even where Japanese models hadn’t arrived, Moto Guzzis did just as well in upsetting the US market.
In the UK, 650ccs was considered a large sized machine, at least adequate in the performance stakes, despite some V-twins like Vincent and Brough reaching capacities around the litre-mark. What really turned the biking world upside down was the introduction of the CB 750cc from Honda, and then Kawasaki’s 900cc ‘Z1’ (both four-strokes). These were closely followed by models like Suzuki’s GS 750, that blended horse-power and good handling. Although Triumph and BSA had made their 750cc Trident and Rocket Three respectively, they couldn’t match the performance of the Japanese machines.
The age of the superbike had dawned in the form of the ‘muscle’ bike, and despite causing a rift between the aficionados and professionals alike, it was the shape of things to come. At the same time, custom popularity was pulling at manufacturers to supply that demand. Triumph responded with their X75 Hurricane version of the Trident. Entrepreneurs like Craig Vetter who supplied fibreglass moldings, and Colin Seeley who made superior frames helped sustain British manufacture. But they also improved the looks and handling of some of the new Japanese models. The cost of creating new model ranges in-house was too great for the Brits, and the existing stock was waning in popularity.
From the commuting 50ccs up to the superbikes (including a 1000cc, six-cylinder Honda), the Japanese had entered every stage of the road-going market by the end of the 70’s. Their entry into racing in the late 1950’s had spread into other sports, and a world-domination was in place. The four cylinder and other multiples had changed the voice of motorcycling. Although they could rumble and thunder, more zuzzing and screaming was to be heard. Some disliked it, saying they didn’t sound like real bikes, while others who grew up on them took them to heart. By the end of the 70’s, four cylinder models were most predominant, and became the ‘UJM’, or Universal Japanese Motorcycle.
Even as the café biking scene was all but dead, the enthusiasm for large and fast bikes rolled onwards. By the 1980’s, the Japanese effect caused bikes like the six-cylinder Benelli Sei to bruise around amid other muscle bikes like the Laverda Jota. It was not long before people decided to make their own impressions on the design of Japanese bikes. Whilst the performance was a lure, many felt that the plastic covers and other parts just had to go. Enter the Japanese customs. There were those who felt that a Japanese chopper wasn’t a real chopper, but this small country had become world leaders in motorcycle production and design. The validity of their machines was indisputable.
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The rifts between single-make lovers of European and American bikes was nothing compared to the abyss between Western and Oriental bike fans. The traditions built over the years began to highlight a dinosaur-headedness as well as a retrospective affection. Most Bikers, including British ones, accepted that there is no competition between their favourite old bikes and the new Japanese machines. It’s pointless to have a quibble based in bias; you’re just holding yourself back. But there are individuals and clubs who regard riding Japanese machines as the ultimate sin; their preferred type of bike, whatever it is, is sacrosanct. Some later individuals and clubs insisted that: “I’d rather die of AIDS than ride a Japanese Motorcycle.” To an outsider, this is a suffocating possessiveness. Whilst it is justifiable to have preference, it is intolerable to preach. Codes entrenched in some biking beliefs are occasionally based in sentiment rather than fact, others become out of date.
Just as people had agreed to disagree about marques and cylinder configurations, they learned to agree that whatever bike you prefer, even if it’s Japanese, it is the one you should have. The nostalgia surrounding older machines had its adherents; the expression of the custom carried personality onwards to new heights; and the invigoration of the latest hi-tech, high speed machine drew (mostly younger) people onto the wave of Japanese domination.
Many European firms hit insurmountable financial trouble as they lost their market share, and the Japanese invasion is said to have been the death-knell for British manufacturers. Others eventually bounced back, and created machines with style and performance that appealed to many Bikers. Italy’s Ducati 750 and 900 V twins are just one hand-built example. The trouble is, such manufacturing techniques are expensive, thus creating smaller market prospects for those machines. However, due in part to Japan’s entry into the world market, reliable and high performance machines became the expected norm.
It became natural for riding hours to exceed the time spent wielding spanners. A more care-free attitude was replacing the arduous world of the enthusiast. Electric starters allowed virtually anyone to ride anything (large and Japanese), and there was talk of Bikers becoming softened by such luxuries. But the truth is that although biking had become easier through new technology, it had not become any less of a physical art-form due to the increases in performance. The old rumours concerning Jap-crap were invalidated. On these new machines, another phase of Biker culture was riding the streets. It was gathering momentum even as other influences were reshaping Biker ideologies.