Maki, Beer Me

If you haven't seen Maki's pictures from the Chirihara races then you better hop right over to his webpage........ www.sparetime.jp

August 26, 2012.  A.G. does not sleep much because he delivers papers in the early morning.  This does not stop him from going for rides in the actual morning when the sun comes up (after work for him).  Lucky for us, Yuka's motorbike was in the shop and she was driving=we get a ride to the beach races in Chirihara.  When A.G. gets tired though, he takes the wheel of the car, cranks the AC up and subjects my wife and I to the dangers of a sleepless driver...  and Yuka gives the old Kneebreaker a go.  The only stipulation is that A.G. has to get the it started.  (Note the left foot kick!)

A.G. and the Knee Breaker

A.G. Hashimoto, Aug26, 2012.  

Beach Race 2

As much play as the Japanese custom scene gets on the internet and in American Mags, one might get the impression that every teenager owns a Panhead here.  Not so.  Where there are plenty of killer bikes in Nagoya and Tokyo, overall the old bike scene in Japan is a niche culture.  Most folks in Japan want new stuff that is clean and works quietly and efficiently.   The ladies and gentlemen you see in these pictures are an  exception to almost every rule that I have been able to grasp in my stay here and the families units they have created out of devotion to old machines are admirable.  Any Japanese person is doing good just to get their hands on a vintage engine of any make, much less the rest the rest of the bike in working order.  In the states we still share stories (and lies) about the proverbial old fellow who lived the life in the 60 and 70s with a shed full of parts.  You won’t hear any stories like that here.  By the time any old parts get here they are already worth a fortune, leaving them only for the use of those that can afford them.  As for everyone else, they have to rely on friends, luck and one-offing to get  what they want out of their machine.  In this way many customs you see here are the result of patience, study and hand, giving them a look and style which, although it pays homage, looks distinctly different than the custom bikes put together in the states. 

At the heart of this event was the riders’ willingness to ram their valuable machines down a natural beach surface in the name of finding out who’s handiwork will hold up and go faster... on wet sand.  Triumph vs. Harley vs. Indian vs. BSA vs....... Yamaha.  Calling the track a “sand flat” was either a hilarious distortion of the truth, or a translation mishap.  The beach track was riddled with imperfections which sent the riders off of their seats and into the air regularly while they kept their throttles pinned and their handlebars doggedly gripped. It was a fight more against the sand and and their old front ends as much as each other.  Not all that different from watching rodeo.  An unforgettable day.  

A.G. and Yuka, thanks for everything!  See you soon.  

Beach Race 1

 August 26, 2012
Chirihara Sand Flats Speedway
CycleHeadz Street Vintagebike Meeting....

On the beach. 

At approximately 10:30 on the night of August 25, 2012, my friend A.G. calls.  “So how’s everything going?...Thats great...Um, this is really short notice but do you want to go to Chilihara for some vintage bike racing on the beach?”  The beach in question was 280 kilometers away and the event began at 9 a.m. “Sure! Brandi and I have no plans tomorrow.”  “Ok, my wife will pick you up at Maibara station in the morning.  You Americans are crazy!”  

The first train to leave our neighborhood station leaves at 6:20 a.m. and we were on it having had very little sleep.  This would transport us to the bullet train station in the city where we would take the second earliest bullet train possible to Kyoto and the change to a slower train to take us to a smaller bullet train terminal in Maibara, just a bit west of Nagoya.  Being a smaller terminal, the train we were on stopped to let the non-stop trains blow by.  My wife waited patiently on the platform while I stood at the edge waiting like a little kid to watch a Nozomi Super Express fly by at 200 mph, which is as terrifying as it is fun.  Sixteen coaches scarcely 20 ft in front of you, carrying the scream of its wind stream and the high pitched whine of its 25,000 V AC power supply dragging against the power line above.  The entire station moves and one's body is actually pushed in the direction of the train by the wind created.  The 16 coaches pass in less than 3 seconds.  Back to business.  Yuka and A.G. are already waiting at the east gate.  Three more hours in the car would get us to a small beach in Ishikawa prefecture on the Sea of Japan.  A.G. rode his motorcycle as we watched the middle Honshu mountains run by until we were following the sea side.  The pictures can tell the rest of the story.