“Born to a biker father and mother”she says by way of introduction, in the same way she would state her civil status. In a calm voice and in formal language, she asks to be nicknamed “Angela” to preserve her anonymity. This amiable forty-something, a real estate agent by profession, confides without boasting that she drives “since adolescence, well before being of legal age to pass the driving test”Three decades later, she has retained this taste for transgression.
Now a mother of three children and separated from their father, she is one of the fans of wild rodeo. A practice, also called “cross bitumen” or “bike life”which involves performing tricks on two-wheelers or quads at high speed, most often on straight lines. The most popular form is illegal, as it takes place on public roads. Wheeling (rear wheel), drifts (slippages), stoppies (front wheel) and the burn (making the rear wheel smoke by burning the rubber on the asphalt) are among the most popular figures.
Synonymous with loud noise pollution and residents at the end of their tether and, above all, with dramatic news items, motorized rodeo conveys a particularly negative and worrying image. However, some practitioners, socially integrated and from wealthy social classes, claim a more reasonable and respectful approach, by practicing on private land, or even on authorized circuits.
” I discovered the bike life a few years ago with my brother and his gang of friendsconfides Angela. We were doing runs [des courses] and we lifted the wheel on warehouse parking lots that were not guarded at the time.” This motorsports fanatic indulges in cross-country sessions with friends, at night, on weekends, when the weather is good. And in the utmost discretion. The team loads the non-approved motorcycles – sports models not authorized to be driven on public roads – into a truck to transport them to a quiet place, out of sight, and takes maximum precautions to avoid attracting the attention of the authorities. The meeting spots are shared on WhatsApp and chosen away from major roads and busy roads.
“Boots instead of heels”
Apart from the small group and a handful of very close biker friends who were let into the secret, the forty-something doesn’t speak to anyone about what she calls “guilty pleasure”. “This is my secret garden”she explains. The practice is confidential, not to say clandestine. When asked about where they practice, the CSP + followers of the bike life are as fuzzy as if they were preserving the location of a mushroom spot: “Oh, a little secluded road.”
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