/// MOTO CHRON ///

In the last installment of JDM, I featured a Honda Ape and gave a peek into the custom mini-bike culture here in Japan. This week I feature another bespoke Honda mini-moto, and although the Monkey isn't a Japan-only model, I'm filing this under the JDM tag on the virtue of its custom details, not the least of which is that sweet koi fish saddle. If you get the sense that I like small-bore bikes, you'd be right. I first fell in love with riding on a 50cc Super Cub, much like the ones used by Japanese postal workers . With the rural back roads of Gunma, Japan as my playground, I spent every moment I could spare scooting up and down mountain passes in utter rapture at full throttle. If you get the sense that I have a thing for retro bikes, you'd also be correct. There's something timelessly beautiful about a naked bike with a tear-drop tank and simple round headlight. No amount of molded plastic fairings or angry LED transformer headlights could stir my heart the way

NEWS FLASH "She flies with her own wings" - Oregon's inspiring motto. Some say it represent the spirit of independence, resilience and ingenuity embodied by its residents. In a step towards giving motorcyclists a new set of wings, Oregon has become the next in a series of states to move towards legalizing lane filtering. State Bill 574 will allow motorcyclists to pass between cars moving at up to 10 mph, but no faster than 10 mph faster than traffic - essentially parking lot speeds. Overwhelmingly approved by the state Senate, the bill must now be approved by the House then signed by the Governor before it can become law, but things look optimistic. In fact, things are looking more and more optimistic for American lane filtering advocates in recent years, as states move toward introducing and passing similar bills. California, Utah and Montana have all officially legalized lane filtering in some form or another, passing legislation in 2016, 2019 and 2021 respectively. Was

BIKE ENVY The local motorcycle parts store always has a few interesting bikes parked out front at any given time. I happened to spot this gem while driving past the shop and decided to pull into the parking lot for a vending machine coffee and a closer look. It's not everyday you spot a vintage Katana in such good condition. Though I was never a fan of the design, examining a pristine example up close definitely started warming my heart. What was this tingling sensation? Heartburn from the deep fried pork cutlet I just ate? Perhaps. Or perhaps this was a case of unexpected BIKE ENVY! Hate it or love it, the first Suzuki Katana was an undeniable watershed moment for motorcycle design and arguably for industrial design in general. Prior to the Katana, most production motorcycles followed a fairly similar style brief and to the non-rider it might be difficult to tell a Honda from a BSA or a BMW - don't believe me, just google-image the phrase "1975 motorcycle" followed b

When I'm a little hungry, I often rumble over to one of the many convenience stores in my corner of Kobe. Here, I can find cute miniaturized versions of my favorite confections, a tempting new fizzy drink or seasonal ice cream flavor. I didn't expect to stumble upon this gem of a miniature motorcycle at my local Lawson's , but I'm so glad I did. Just look at it. It is magical. It is glorious. A piece of crap? Yes, no doubt. Only in Japan? Of course. Someone's pride and joy? Absolutely. We measure bikes all wrong. Horsepower, torque, weight, dyno charts, lap times. However, If you measure a bike by the sheer delight it can illicit, then you cannot deny the allure of the clapped out, truck sticked mini-bike. Cheap enough to buy, maintain and crash on a any budget, and - this is key - cheap enough to ride like a horseman of the apocalypse. No number can quantify joy, so there is no use in looking at statistics. The charm of this bike truly lives in the details - so let

In America, we motorcyclists are both spurned and ignored. On the fringes of acceptable society and in the spaces between acceptable traffic, we are literally and figuratively an eyesore in a blind-spot. Images of renegade, outlaw, vagabond and nomad might surface in a soccer-mom focus group when asked about us. Popular culture has painted us with a broad brush, Easy Rider, Sons of Anarchy, Hell's Angels all come to mind. Of course, this perception could not be further from the truth, but it is our invisible burden to bear. Some of us ignore it, some of us embrace it, but it's always riding just behind us like a shadow. The 10-ton tattooed elephant on the pillion seat, if you will. There is, however, one public space the elephant cannot follow. A place where your leathers and helmet and sordid appearance won't garner a second look from anyone because they all look equally disheveled. I am talking about your friendly neighborhood motorcycle hangout. It might be a place inten

If you live in Japan for any amount of time, you will notice a gang of highly skilled riders  buzzing about in perpetual motion. S porting red bikes and open-face helmets, their eyes harbor a steely focus that seems both malevolent and stoic at the same time, their faces blistered, wind-burned and leathery from constant exposure to the elements.  They possess a preternatural control of their machine, dragging pegs to pavement, one hand on the throttle and the other gripping a fistful of envelopes. I am of course talking about the indominable, unflinching, pound-for-pound greatest rider in the world, the Japanese postal worker and their finely tuned weapon, the Honda Super Cub MD. In a recurring segment I'm calling JDM, I'll unearth a bit of Japanese riding culture for your reading pleasure. I t is easy to romanticize the humble postal worker and their little red Honda Super Cubs, dutifully traversing every paved corner of the country in the fulfillment of their essential dire