My own observation over the last twenty odd years is that the worldwide proliferation of specifically classic 'West Coast' influenced chops is really a relatively recent thing, prior to this, the Poms, Europeans and those down here in the Antipodes had developed a style of bike quite a bit apart from the North American/Cali definition as is so internationally popular now . . . .
In many cases, they were a little bit 'vaccuum sealed' in the slightly curious period of the mid to late sixties when the principle styles of Yank bike were really being defined, primarily I suppose, the Long Bike, the Frisco chop and, a bee's dick later, the Digger . . . . fuck, I know what I mean, just havin a wee bit of difficulty articulating it . . . . I guess what I'm saying is, with some obvious exceptions, I, and probably lots of you from both sides of the Atlantic, could generally pick what side of the pond a scoot emanated from simply by looking at it . . . .
This is certainly no longer so much the case, the spontaneous and implacable forces of 'cultural imperialism' that have seen three generations of people around the world become focused and fixated on Uncle Sam since the end of WWII, music, film, fashion, cars, bikes, skateboards, toys and the list goes on, [this is NOT a criticism, merely a statement of fact] has seen the popular image of what we all love about custom bikes become way more unified and homogeneous . . . . a bike from Sweden or Finland could easily be mistaken for one from Osaka or Sendai just as soon as they could all have come from some garage in the 'burbs of Oakland, Venice Beach, St. Kilda or Blacktown or Rio via Vancouver . . . . or 'Sarf' London care of Derby.
I reckon this is the best part of the whole caper, everyone is so much closer courtesy of the internet that the 'lag factor' no longer exists, as much as it has dumbed down certain elements it has been responsible for bringing a bunch of like minded, kindred spirits closer together and thereby as a result, intensifying the collective experience . . . .
Bum !!! I hope you kinda got it . . . . it's all good in a thousand hoods . . . . my brain hurts . . . . must get some vino into me post haste . . . .
In many cases, they were a little bit 'vaccuum sealed' in the slightly curious period of the mid to late sixties when the principle styles of Yank bike were really being defined, primarily I suppose, the Long Bike, the Frisco chop and, a bee's dick later, the Digger . . . . fuck, I know what I mean, just havin a wee bit of difficulty articulating it . . . . I guess what I'm saying is, with some obvious exceptions, I, and probably lots of you from both sides of the Atlantic, could generally pick what side of the pond a scoot emanated from simply by looking at it . . . .
This is certainly no longer so much the case, the spontaneous and implacable forces of 'cultural imperialism' that have seen three generations of people around the world become focused and fixated on Uncle Sam since the end of WWII, music, film, fashion, cars, bikes, skateboards, toys and the list goes on, [this is NOT a criticism, merely a statement of fact] has seen the popular image of what we all love about custom bikes become way more unified and homogeneous . . . . a bike from Sweden or Finland could easily be mistaken for one from Osaka or Sendai just as soon as they could all have come from some garage in the 'burbs of Oakland, Venice Beach, St. Kilda or Blacktown or Rio via Vancouver . . . . or 'Sarf' London care of Derby.
I reckon this is the best part of the whole caper, everyone is so much closer courtesy of the internet that the 'lag factor' no longer exists, as much as it has dumbed down certain elements it has been responsible for bringing a bunch of like minded, kindred spirits closer together and thereby as a result, intensifying the collective experience . . . .
Bum !!! I hope you kinda got it . . . . it's all good in a thousand hoods . . . . my brain hurts . . . . must get some vino into me post haste . . . .
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