Gaijin Bosozoku

It’s funny, I look at this picture (with my brother Rich on his bmx and our Mum in splendid French attire) and I notice how the motorcycle looks comparatively small. But at the time, it felt so big. It was only a 50cc but it felt like a Harley to me. Thing is the difference between not having a bike and having one (of any size or dimension) is huge. Upgrading to a bigger bike (which I did over the years - from 125cc to 250cc to 550cc) is a natural progression. But initiating yourself into the bike riding world - that’s the biggest step. And, at sixteen, I was itching. My best friends already had theirs and because I was the youngest in the class, I had to wait a while until I could get my license.

Then, in order to convince my parents (loving guardians of my well being that they are), I had to write (yes, a letter! No email yet) to a number of insurance agencies and get the statistics on motorcycle related accidents in Tokyo by category. Luckily, the numbers were low enough, so I was good to go. I loved that blue and white Yamaha so much. The thrill and power of the accelerator in your right hand. The smooth and constant vibration between your legs, the rhythmic clicking of the blinkers, the reassuring firmness and reliability of the front and back brakes and finally, the up and down click of the left foot gear lever - one down, four up. It was a modest vehicle but it could go over 110kms - more than enough. And because it was light the take off was very fast. The riding rules in Tokyo allow weaving in and out of vehicles and, satisfyingly, making your way to the front of the line of cars waiting at red lights. So, in effect, what you do is race (way out front of the cars) to the next set of red lights.
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During my time in high school, a few kids did have accidents, of course. And, sadly, there were even a few deaths, though not anyone we knew. So it was always a risk and you had to be attuned and attentive, on alert. I was lucky to have never crashed. The best part of having a bike was the freedom it availed. And the thrill of riding. Every outing was exciting. It could be raining, snowing, icy even (the worst!), but I never left home without it. In many ways, Tokyo was one big delightful playground. Always somewhere new to explore. My friends and I sometimes drove in small packs and called ourselves the ‘gaijin bosozoku’ after the notorious, trouble-making (and criminal) Japanese bike gangs of the time. We would sometimes ride up beside them and graciously, because we had no affiliations, obviously young and were always friendly, they would let us ride along beside them sometimes. It was a thrill.