Read Online The Peace Correspondent by Garry Marchant - Free Book Online Page A

not rice burners (Japanese motorcycles). “I’d rather see my sister in a brothel than my brother on a Honda,” says a diehard Harley slogan.
    There is no thrill quite like the surge of power that comes fromthe slight twist of the hand throttle, and 700 pounds of menacing machinery almost lunging from under you and thundering away, with the satisfying rumble like a jet launched from an aircraft carrier. The club’s stylists ride in the Harley highway slouch, copied from Marlon Brando or Lee Marvin in The Wild Ones, or maybe Peter Fonda in Easy Rider, depending on their age. They sit low in the saddle, arms loose and relaxed on those wide handlebars, legs forward, pointy-toed boots stretched way out resting on the highway pegs, giving a relaxed, ice-cool posture.
    The style hasn’t changed since the 1950s song Highway 101:
    â€œHe wore black denim trousers
    and motorcycle boots
    And a black leather jacket
    with an eagle on the back.
    On the muscle of his arm
    was a red tattoo,
    A picture of a heart
    saying ‘Mother I Love you.’
    He had a hopped-up cycle
    that took off like a gun.
    That fool was the terror of Highway 101”
    With all the confusion, it takes all day to make the 87 kilometers to Huizhou City, the first stop. Dinner is a banquet with local officials, with formal welcoming speeches and toasting with the fiery local liquor. At one table, Harley rep Steve and Peter, the mechanic, are deep in technical talk, of belt drives, gear boxes, drive trains and “How about them ramjet manifolds?”
    At another table, a rider with a “Ladies of Harley” crest on her denim jacket is discussing the Hong Kong store selling Harley regalia. The Harley symbol, the all-American eagle, wings outspread, beak open fiercely, is worn on leather jackets and saddlebags, T-shirts, hats and rings and etched on bike parts. Hong Kong Chinese Rider Wilson goes whole hog with a Harley cap, sweatshirt and belt buckle. He claims to own HK$50,000 worth of Harley wear -- including his wife’s underwear.
    Another rider is reading a Los Angeles magazine article about the new American phenomenon, Rich Urban Bikers (RUBS). It says that Harleys are for people who like to look in the mirror, and he concedes he spends more time polishing the chrome than riding.
    Some members are sensitive about the Hong Kong Hog’s upmarket image. David, an English engineer, complains, “In Hong Kong, they always ask ‘How much does it cost, and do you get your amah (maid) to wash it for you?’” He has no amah.
    Not everyone is enthralled with Harleys. The Dr., who is accompanying the rally in a support car, rode on the back of a Softail this afternoon. The laconic surgeon reports in an accent that is more Harley Street than Harley-Davidson, “Well, it’s like riding the back of a motorbike, really.” Yet he is eager to ride a bike for the final entrance into Shanghai, and a week later, back in Hong Kong, he is reported to be shopping for a Harley-Davidson, one of the converted.
    From Huizhou, the bikers follow the coast north through old treaty ports, stopping at Shantou (Swatow), Xiamen (Amoy), Fuzhou (Foochow), Wenzhou (Wenchow), Ningbo (Ningpo) and Hangzhou (Hangchow). Beyond the crowded factories of the economic zone, the road winds through classic Chinese countryside, with traditional stone and mud houses with shingle roofs. Long-horned water buffalo spooked by the raging motorcycles are kept from running onto the road by the rope through their noses. Barefoot farmers work the fields with primitive wooden hoes, plows and ancient foot-powered irrigation pumps with crude wooden buckets.
    It is white-knuckle biking through China’s chaotic traffic. Roads are crowded with buses, bicycles, peddle rickshaws, three-wheeled walking tractors (oversized roto-tillers meant for the rice paddies). Farmers pull huge loads on two-wheeled carts, carry produce on bamboo poles on their shoulders or