American biker culture has always been synonymous with Harleys and outlaw bike gangs like the Hell's Angels and Banditos. Today, though, there is a new breed of motorcycle outlaw. One who has even less respect for the police, and one who idolizes speed and technology. Rappers like DMX have deified sports bikes like the Hayabusa to the MTV audience, and these are the disciples. Diametrically opposed to the hackneyed white motorcycle culture and rural Harley idyll, these riders (mostly African-American) come from the inner city streets of New York, Philadelphia and Washington D.C.
Street racers congregate on web sites like psychobike.com under pseudonyms like Burnout and Badbusa. I posted a message asking for help in writing this article and was met first with derision-most suspected I was a cop. But a racer with the moniker "Ronraceme" offered to play along. "I got nothing to hide," said Ron when we first spoke on the phone.
We met over a few months at various lock-ups Ronnie has around Washington D.C., particularly one near Andrews Air Force Base where he stores his bikes. The first time we met he had a fellow street racer with him who was working on a lime green ZX10. "Don't take no pictures of my tags," he asked politely. Turned out he was a D.C. police officer.
Ronnie, at 38, is older than most of the other street racers. He grew up during the '80s crack epidemic that led to black youths having a 1-in-12 chance of being murdered before their 45th birthday. That is double the mortality rate of American soldiers in World War II. "Every day, at any time, I could be ducking bullets and breaking away," says Ronnie. One of his street racing mentors, Ricky Dobbins, was murdered, shot eight times a block from his house in D.C. Another of Ronnie's friends, Kevin Gardner, was killed in a 160 mph crash. Yet another, Willie 'Doodie' Sams, was shot dead at a street race meeting in an argument over a girl. Ronnie hasn't escaped totally unscathed. He has a cruel looking scar on his right inner forearm from when he was once held up at knifepoint. "I told the sucker he would have to bring a pistol if he was going to rob me."
By day Ronnie works as a building superintendent, but by night he competes in races all over the East Coast, sponsored by a building contractor in Connecticut. Ronnie first started racing in his early teens on a 1978 Honda CB400 in the grimy warehouse district on D.C.'s V Street. Since then, the motorcycles have evolved and the horsepower has increased massively-as have the sums of money gambled. Shortly after we met, he traveled to Philadelphia for a pre-arranged street race. "I knew I was going to win, but there were 35 of them and one of me," he confides. "The guy pulled out a wad this thick." He spreads finger and thumb to show how much. "I coulda left there with $8000, but I knew I had to keep the bets small. I knew-otherwise I wouldn't be leaving there with all my money and my bike."
The highways around New York and Connecticut, notably Route 24 and the Bruckner Expressway, are notorious spots for big money races. Racers deploy several cars to slow and stop the traffic-in essence forming a solid roadblock. While the traffic is halted and stopped, racers have free reign to run the 11/44-mile without interference. When the race is over, the blocking cars move aside and let the traffic pass. Ronnie raced one of these for several thousand dollars a few months ago. "No one could get by and I guess if anyone had got out to make a problem they would have been dealt with." That said, the race did not go Ronnie's way. "I was about three bike lengths ahead at 148 mph when he shot past," explains Ronnie, disgustedly. "He sprayed me."
Engineering bikes to look as stock as possible has become an art form to street racers. "Nitrous is easily hidden on a bike, especially these new 10-ounce bottles," explains Ronnie. They will often be hidden inside frames, inside the fuel tank or air ducts. "I used to have an obvious one that someone would find, and I'd say 'OK, you caught me, I'll turn it off.' What they didn't know was that I had another one hidden inside the fuel tank." Suspicions that someone may be spraying are sometimes aroused when racers turn their headlight on and off before the race. This often means they are arming their nitrous system.
Engines in successful street racing bikes often cost as much as $15,000. Stock parts are quickly replaced with bigger blocks and aftermarket stroker crankshafts. To keep the bikes from pulling wheelies off the line, and losing precious split-seconds, the front ends are weighted, squashing the suspension. The battery is moved to the front fairing and swingarms are often extended to ridiculous lengths. Standard street racer kits also includes air shifters, and riders experiment with VP C45 race fuel that costs as much as $210 for five gallons. "You never know what the other guy has," says Ronnie. "So you bring the most badass thing you got."
Other forms of cheating are standard play. Ronnie says he has seen racers pretend to drop something and, while looking around, will accelerate off the line. If the race is started by a flagman, Ronnie will use a friend who, just before dropping his arms to signify the start, will stamp his foot milliseconds before to give Ronnie the advantage. Other less scrupulous racers have been known to douse a lane on the highway with oil before a race.
Cheating-even winning-often has its drawbacks on the streets. Racers hear about bikes and riders that have won, often in suspicious circumstances, through the Internet. Then both bike and rider can find it hard to get races. It's crucial to be anonymous to get big money bets. Ronnie might intentionally lose a race as a ploy just so he could line up others with unsuspecting wankers a week later. "They know me, though," laments Ronnie. "It's hard for me to get a race anywhere now." Ironically, success and notoriety in street racing are bad things.
Danger is part and parcel of street racing-a situation that lately has caused many of the best to limit their riding to "sanctioned" grudge racing at legit drag strips as part of programs like AMA/Prostar's "Streetbike Chaos" or the MIROCK Series' "Afterdark Underground."