Japan's Bikers: The Tame OnesBy
Seventy drivers rev up Harley-Davidson V-twin engines along a highway. Sitting in an Ultra Sidecar, I listen to the trademark throbbing staccato. But my driver is not some American skull-ringed, tattooed hot-rodder. He's a conservative Japanese, 56, the president of a construction company, dressed up like a cross between Japanese and American policemen. Like the Japanese police, he wears a pressed blue shirt. His helmet bears a stylish but fake California state-police seal.
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