Biker nation

Photos by Mark Ostow

Text by Stephen Heuser

They come from Florida and Quebec; from Los Angeles, Kiev, and Cleveland. They come on cruisers and sport bikes, on austere Triumphs and neon Kawasakis and giant Harleys rippling with bossed leather and chrome pipes. Every year around Father's Day, 200,000 bikers swarm the faded resort strip of the Weirs, in Laconia, New Hampshire, for Rally and Race Week.

The three major American motorcycle rallies, like rock stars and popes, go by single names. Sturgis. Daytona. Laconia. The first two (in South Dakota and Florida) may be bigger, but Laconia is the oldest of the three: this year is the 74th time the town has played host to the two-wheeled crowd and the encampment of T-shirt stands, detailers, tattoo studios, and parts dealers that springs up around it.

The nominal main attraction is the Loudon Camel Classic, two days of races held 20 miles south at the New Hampshire International Speedway. But most of the bikers never make it there. What brings them to Laconia is the desire to be among more like-minded souls than anyone can really count. Early in the week, Lakeside Street turns into a parking lot, a row of polished bikes maybe a half-mile long. As the crowd swells, the street becomes one long cruising strip; the pedestrian throng, almost too thick to move through, is sliced in two by a constant procession of bikes. There's nothing to do except look and wander and maybe stop by the beer garden (which the rest of the year serves as a drive-in theater) or watch daredevils from California ride their vintage Indians around the Wall of Death.

The enthusiasm on the strip is spontaneous and amoebic, a thick, undefined, ear-splitting swell of camaraderie among people who, one way or another, see themselves as a little different from the rest of the world. What makes a biker isn't a blue-collar job, or a penchant for bar fights, but a little grease under the fingernails. It's a love of motorcycles, a willingness to take care of a motorcycle. And that kind of love crosses a lot of boundaries.

Continue