WARNING: The following article contains images of foreign motorcycles. Viewer discretion is advised.
You see them at shows (or behind dumpsters), hear their squeaking as they ride by (or as they gnaw the drywall), or catch sight of their lights on the road (or their red eyes at night). They're rats: both two-wheeled and four-legged. They're a custom bike of a different stripe, but definitely unique.
Rat bikes are the zombies of the motorcycle world (I mean that in a good way; my first bike was a ratty Yamaha 350, and I love zombie movies). Originally stock, they get ridden to death in any and all weather, then brought back from the grave as the owner uses anything and everything to keep them on the road. Like zombies, they're also cannibals-they eat their own to keep going (rat bikes are also every bit as attractive as the undead). And not just bike parts, either. Rat bikers keep their steeds up and running with a mixture of love, resourcefulness, and duct tape, along with whatever's at hand when the bike breaks down. It's a constant challenge that they rise to and meet with pride. Rats are to be ridden instead of cleaned, and if you see an old rat at an event, chances are each part has a story connected to it. Since rat rides are also custom bikes, we thought it was high time to do a story dedicated to them and the rugged folks who keep them going.
People have been riding rustbuckets since the first motorcycle got wet, but the origin of rat bikes as a motorcycle "genre" goes back to the early '70s, in the late golden era of choppers. Crazy metalwork and bright paint were seriously popular, both with hot rod cars and bikes. But somewhere along the way, a counterculture backlash started. Folks started making rustbucket vehicles as a way of standing out, since polished, finished iron was the establishment in the world of custom vehicles.
Gray Baskerville worked for Hot Rod magazine at the time, and many say he was the first to coin the term "rat rod" in a car feature he wrote during that period. Regardless of where the name came from, it stuck like rust, and in the years that followed, more folks started making bikes that were just as nasty and ugly as could be, but they rode them with as much pride as any other enthusiast.
Things changed somewhat in the '80s. By that time the golden age was over, and choppers dropped back to the periphery of public perception from whence they'd came. Rats were still around; die-hard enthusiasts will keep the dream alive no matter what, but custom bikes had lost prominence with the American public at large.
The same can't be said for rats in Europe, though. People still chopped motorcycles, with streetfighters coming into the bike scene in much the same way the first choppers had in the '40s (less weight equals more power). When the seriously popular Road Warrior films came out, European riders started making survival bikes: a rat subspecies styled after the cars and bikes in those movies-post-Apocalyptic rats.
Since then, rats have stayed in the outskirts of motorcycling, but lately there's been a change. Over the last few years, American customs have grown a tad bit in popularity (you may have noticed that). America caught V-Twin fever, but this time on a much bigger scale. Also, bike builders now had a large aftermarket to draw from, making a custom chopper, Pro Street, or bobber accessible to anyone who could afford it, not just to those who knew how to make their own parts. Now, none of that's big news, but with so many private individuals, start-up shops, and established motorcycle builders making iron based on popular trends, it's become harder and harder to be truly different. High-dollar, well-crafted bikes with flawless paint jobs have become mainstream, and, just as before, some builders have turned to rats in rebellion.