Night Riders

It’s not that often I get angry; it takes a lot to push me over the edge.

So, standing on my balcony at four in the morning in my undies yelling curses into the night, eyes wild and hair unkempt, I realized: This was serious. The first time it happened, I awoke – bleary-eyed – to what sounded like a building being demolished. Fearing either terrorism or a Godzilla-related disturbance, I staggered to my balcony, sleepily grabbing a frying pan in self defense.

But there were no terrorists, and no giant monsters. There was only a long column of excessively modified and skull-splittingly loud motorbikes weaving their way down the street below. Their exhaust pipes blatted out a tattoo loud enough to wake anybody in the surrounding houses. I watched this parade roll down the road (past a koban, no less) until it disappeared, and the usual drone of traffic returned.

What were they doing? What drove them to be so obnoxious? Why was I holding a frying pan in my hand? I had to know the answers to these questions. Ten minutes later, thanks to the power of Google, these faceless riders had a name. Bosozoku, “violent running tribe.” Or, as I like to call them, “little shits on bikes.” A mostly teenage activity, bosozoku gangs rampage through the night on their customized bikes playing loud music, making lots of noise, and doing generally anti-social things. The police rarely seem to do anything about them – forget what you’ve seen on “Cops”, with cruisers boldly ramming lawbreakers off the road. More often than not, the bikers scream through the streets with police unable to do anything but meekly follow and beep their horns.

My anger at the bikers soon subsided though. I realized that their booming stereos and roaring engines were nothing less than the loudest cry for help I’d ever heard. These kids are trying to escape an existence of endless studying and high expectations. Ferried from high school to cram classes to language courses to sports clubs, they never have a moment to breathe, to express themselves, or even to relax. You may accuse me of stereotyping, but with the average father at work 37 hours a day and a society that places harmony, or the appearance of harmony, above all else, it’s only natural to feel walled-in and isolated. Interviews with bosozoku often report the same emotions: they feel trapped, that nobody listens to them, and that they’d explode if it weren’t for their nightly forays into freedom. They feel literally voiceless, and a souped-up engine with an ultra-loud exhaust pipe acts as a pretty good substitute voice for them.

I’m no psychiatrist (you may have noticed), but I do know people, and I know what it’s like to be a pissed off teenager – and these are as pissed off teenagers as I’ve ever seen. Sure, some of the blame can be placed on them. In some ways, rebelling like this is taking the easy way out – instead of trying to change their situation, they are (quietly) accepting it by day and then (loudly) equalizing the pressure at night. But, we are all products of our society. What about the parents? Children learn the most basic things from them. Right and wrong: our moral compass. If parents place strong emphasis on success at school and, later, financial success in business, above everything else, then surely the children will, too? However, the perspective can become messed up for a child, with academic success rating as more important than human life, in extreme cases. You see the articles in the news – a school boy killed himself because he was caught with a cigarette lighter at school; another killed his family because he was failing at school and could not live up to his parents’ expectations; yet another bludgeoned a store owner to death because he “was in a bad mood and needed a distraction.” These are the actions of kids who don’t know right from wrong. They have an unbalanced value system. The first boy decided he would rather die than get in trouble. The second was so scared of disappointing his parents, he killed them. And, on a less extreme level, the bosozoku release stress at night, at the expense of everyone sleeping around them.

Misbehaving kids are not endemic to Japan, of course. In England, strict alcohol laws mean that most teens can’t wait to get their hands on the grog. I know I couldn’t. Perhaps in Japan, with conformity and quiet success held in such high regard, naturally kids wanting to express themselves will gravitate toward the opposite – mayhem and mischief. Bosozoku, annoying as they are, are nothing but a symptom. I recognize and understand their cry for help. But do they have to be so bloody loud?

By Matt Benyon, English, Editor & Insomniac
Writers wanted! info@fukuoka-now.com

 

 

 

 

早朝4時。ボサボサの頭に下着姿でベランダに立ち、暗闇に向かって大声で叫んでいる僕。なぜか手にはフライパン…。普段はかなり穏やかな僕もこの日ばかりはキレていた。まるでビルが崩壊するかのような爆音で目が覚めたんだ。窓から覗くとバイクの行列。それも耳をつんざくような騒音を放ちながら道路をジーグザーグと荒っぽく走り抜けて行く。「いったい今のは何なんだ？」 10分後、グーグルサーチの末に彼らには「暴走族」という名前があることを知った。とにかくウルサい暴走族。夜中に暴走する若者たちって本当に迷惑なんだけど、でも待って。これってただの「理由なき反抗」で片付けてしまっていいのかな？

毎晩のごとく鳴り響く騒音とエンジンのうなり声が、僕には段々と「心の叫び」に聞こえてきたんだ。テレビなんかで「暴走族」のインタビューを見ていると、決まって彼らは同じ感情を口にしている、「縛られている、誰も聞いてくれない、爆発しそうだ」。学校の授業、塾通い、外国語のレッスンにクラブ活動、終りなき勉強の日々…と周囲の大きな期待の中で苦しみ、そして助けを求めているんだ。

最近、日本でよくこんなニュースを耳にする。学校でライターを持っていることバレて自殺してしまったとか、学校の成績が悪くて家族を殺してしまったとか、ストレスがたまっていて店員をこん棒で殴り殺してしまったとか。彼らは問題児になる前に死を選んだり、親をがっかりさせることを恐れるがゆえ、その親を殺してしまう。そう、善悪の判断がつかなかったり、物事の尊さがわからなかったりするんだろうね。そういうある程度の常識、善悪の分別やモラルって、子供は親から学び、社会生活の中で身につけていくものだよね。どんなに大人たちが、「学校でよい成績をとることが将来成功する社会人になることだ」って教えたって、全ての子供たちがそういう生き方を選ぶのかな？学歴が人間の本質よりも大事って雰囲気の中で、いったい何が正しくて、どう生きればいいのかって混乱するに違いないよ。

こんなプレッシャーやストレスを抱えた若者たちが、真夜中の静けさの中でクラクションを響かせ、自己主張することで、一瞬の刺激と興奮、スリルを味わい、自由を感じ、発散してるように見える。自分たちの「心の叫び」を聞いてほしいんじゃない？僕にはそれが彼らなりの自己表現のように映るんだ。協調性をより重んじる日本社会で自分を表現しようとする子供たちを、社会や大人はただ「反抗」や「不良」といったレッテルだけで片付けてしまってない？普段は違反者たちを追跡して取り締まるのに忙しい警察だって、「暴走族」たちの後を追っかけようともしないのはどうしてなの？

僕の国でも厳しいアルコール規則が、多くの若者たちのお酒に対する興味を駆り立たせる。少なくとも僕もその一人だったから、そんな若者たちの気持ちってよく分かる。でもさ、かといってあんなにウルサくしなくてもいいんじゃないの？ドオデショ？

 

 

 

 

It’s not that often I get angry; it takes a lot to push me over the edge.

So, standing on my balcony at four in the morning in my undies yelling curses into the night, eyes wild and hair unkempt, I realized: This was serious. The first time it happened, I awoke – bleary-eyed – to what sounded like a building being demolished. Fearing either terrorism or a Godzilla-related disturbance, I staggered to my balcony, sleepily grabbing a frying pan in self defense.

But there were no terrorists, and no giant monsters. There was only a long column of excessively modified and skull-splittingly loud motorbikes weaving their way down the street below. Their exhaust pipes blatted out a tattoo loud enough to wake anybody in the surrounding houses. I watched this parade roll down the road (past a koban, no less) until it disappeared, and the usual drone of traffic returned.

What were they doing? What drove them to be so obnoxious? Why was I holding a frying pan in my hand? I had to know the answers to these questions. Ten minutes later, thanks to the power of Google, these faceless riders had a name. Bosozoku, “violent running tribe.” Or, as I like to call them, “little shits on bikes.” A mostly teenage activity, bosozoku gangs rampage through the night on their customized bikes playing loud music, making lots of noise, and doing generally anti-social things. The police rarely seem to do anything about them – forget what you’ve seen on “Cops”, with cruisers boldly ramming lawbreakers off the road. More often than not, the bikers scream through the streets with police unable to do anything but meekly follow and beep their horns.

My anger at the bikers soon subsided though. I realized that their booming stereos and roaring engines were nothing less than the loudest cry for help I’d ever heard. These kids are trying to escape an existence of endless studying and high expectations. Ferried from high school to cram classes to language courses to sports clubs, they never have a moment to breathe, to express themselves, or even to relax. You may accuse me of stereotyping, but with the average father at work 37 hours a day and a society that places harmony, or the appearance of harmony, above all else, it’s only natural to feel walled-in and isolated. Interviews with bosozoku often report the same emotions: they feel trapped, that nobody listens to them, and that they’d explode if it weren’t for their nightly forays into freedom. They feel literally voiceless, and a souped-up engine with an ultra-loud exhaust pipe acts as a pretty good substitute voice for them.

I’m no psychiatrist (you may have noticed), but I do know people, and I know what it’s like to be a pissed off teenager – and these are as pissed off teenagers as I’ve ever seen. Sure, some of the blame can be placed on them. In some ways, rebelling like this is taking the easy way out – instead of trying to change their situation, they are (quietly) accepting it by day and then (loudly) equalizing the pressure at night. But, we are all products of our society. What about the parents? Children learn the most basic things from them. Right and wrong: our moral compass. If parents place strong emphasis on success at school and, later, financial success in business, above everything else, then surely the children will, too? However, the perspective can become messed up for a child, with academic success rating as more important than human life, in extreme cases. You see the articles in the news – a school boy killed himself because he was caught with a cigarette lighter at school; another killed his family because he was failing at school and could not live up to his parents’ expectations; yet another bludgeoned a store owner to death because he “was in a bad mood and needed a distraction.” These are the actions of kids who don’t know right from wrong. They have an unbalanced value system. The first boy decided he would rather die than get in trouble. The second was so scared of disappointing his parents, he killed them. And, on a less extreme level, the bosozoku release stress at night, at the expense of everyone sleeping around them.

Misbehaving kids are not endemic to Japan, of course. In England, strict alcohol laws mean that most teens can’t wait to get their hands on the grog. I know I couldn’t. Perhaps in Japan, with conformity and quiet success held in such high regard, naturally kids wanting to express themselves will gravitate toward the opposite – mayhem and mischief. Bosozoku, annoying as they are, are nothing but a symptom. I recognize and understand their cry for help. But do they have to be so bloody loud?

By Matt Benyon, English, Editor & Insomniac
Writers wanted! info@fukuoka-now.com

 

 

 

 

It’s not that often I get angry; it takes a lot to push me over the edge.

So, standing on my balcony at four in the morning in my undies yelling curses into the night, eyes wild and hair unkempt, I realized: This was serious. The first time it happened, I awoke – bleary-eyed – to what sounded like a building being demolished. Fearing either terrorism or a Godzilla-related disturbance, I staggered to my balcony, sleepily grabbing a frying pan in self defense.

But there were no terrorists, and no giant monsters. There was only a long column of excessively modified and skull-splittingly loud motorbikes weaving their way down the street below. Their exhaust pipes blatted out a tattoo loud enough to wake anybody in the surrounding houses. I watched this parade roll down the road (past a koban, no less) until it disappeared, and the usual drone of traffic returned.

What were they doing? What drove them to be so obnoxious? Why was I holding a frying pan in my hand? I had to know the answers to these questions. Ten minutes later, thanks to the power of Google, these faceless riders had a name. Bosozoku, “violent running tribe.” Or, as I like to call them, “little shits on bikes.” A mostly teenage activity, bosozoku gangs rampage through the night on their customized bikes playing loud music, making lots of noise, and doing generally anti-social things. The police rarely seem to do anything about them – forget what you’ve seen on “Cops”, with cruisers boldly ramming lawbreakers off the road. More often than not, the bikers scream through the streets with police unable to do anything but meekly follow and beep their horns.

My anger at the bikers soon subsided though. I realized that their booming stereos and roaring engines were nothing less than the loudest cry for help I’d ever heard. These kids are trying to escape an existence of endless studying and high expectations. Ferried from high school to cram classes to language courses to sports clubs, they never have a moment to breathe, to express themselves, or even to relax. You may accuse me of stereotyping, but with the average father at work 37 hours a day and a society that places harmony, or the appearance of harmony, above all else, it’s only natural to feel walled-in and isolated. Interviews with bosozoku often report the same emotions: they feel trapped, that nobody listens to them, and that they’d explode if it weren’t for their nightly forays into freedom. They feel literally voiceless, and a souped-up engine with an ultra-loud exhaust pipe acts as a pretty good substitute voice for them.

I’m no psychiatrist (you may have noticed), but I do know people, and I know what it’s like to be a pissed off teenager – and these are as pissed off teenagers as I’ve ever seen. Sure, some of the blame can be placed on them. In some ways, rebelling like this is taking the easy way out – instead of trying to change their situation, they are (quietly) accepting it by day and then (loudly) equalizing the pressure at night. But, we are all products of our society. What about the parents? Children learn the most basic things from them. Right and wrong: our moral compass. If parents place strong emphasis on success at school and, later, financial success in business, above everything else, then surely the children will, too? However, the perspective can become messed up for a child, with academic success rating as more important than human life, in extreme cases. You see the articles in the news – a school boy killed himself because he was caught with a cigarette lighter at school; another killed his family because he was failing at school and could not live up to his parents’ expectations; yet another bludgeoned a store owner to death because he “was in a bad mood and needed a distraction.” These are the actions of kids who don’t know right from wrong. They have an unbalanced value system. The first boy decided he would rather die than get in trouble. The second was so scared of disappointing his parents, he killed them. And, on a less extreme level, the bosozoku release stress at night, at the expense of everyone sleeping around them.

Misbehaving kids are not endemic to Japan, of course. In England, strict alcohol laws mean that most teens can’t wait to get their hands on the grog. I know I couldn’t. Perhaps in Japan, with conformity and quiet success held in such high regard, naturally kids wanting to express themselves will gravitate toward the opposite – mayhem and mischief. Bosozoku, annoying as they are, are nothing but a symptom. I recognize and understand their cry for help. But do they have to be so bloody loud?

By Matt Benyon, English, Editor & Insomniac
Writers wanted! info@fukuoka-now.com

 

 

 

 

It’s not that often I get angry; it takes a lot to push me over the edge.

So, standing on my balcony at four in the morning in my undies yelling curses into the night, eyes wild and hair unkempt, I realized: This was serious. The first time it happened, I awoke – bleary-eyed – to what sounded like a building being demolished. Fearing either terrorism or a Godzilla-related disturbance, I staggered to my balcony, sleepily grabbing a frying pan in self defense.

But there were no terrorists, and no giant monsters. There was only a long column of excessively modified and skull-splittingly loud motorbikes weaving their way down the street below. Their exhaust pipes blatted out a tattoo loud enough to wake anybody in the surrounding houses. I watched this parade roll down the road (past a koban, no less) until it disappeared, and the usual drone of traffic returned.

What were they doing? What drove them to be so obnoxious? Why was I holding a frying pan in my hand? I had to know the answers to these questions. Ten minutes later, thanks to the power of Google, these faceless riders had a name. Bosozoku, “violent running tribe.” Or, as I like to call them, “little shits on bikes.” A mostly teenage activity, bosozoku gangs rampage through the night on their customized bikes playing loud music, making lots of noise, and doing generally anti-social things. The police rarely seem to do anything about them – forget what you’ve seen on “Cops”, with cruisers boldly ramming lawbreakers off the road. More often than not, the bikers scream through the streets with police unable to do anything but meekly follow and beep their horns.

My anger at the bikers soon subsided though. I realized that their booming stereos and roaring engines were nothing less than the loudest cry for help I’d ever heard. These kids are trying to escape an existence of endless studying and high expectations. Ferried from high school to cram classes to language courses to sports clubs, they never have a moment to breathe, to express themselves, or even to relax. You may accuse me of stereotyping, but with the average father at work 37 hours a day and a society that places harmony, or the appearance of harmony, above all else, it’s only natural to feel walled-in and isolated. Interviews with bosozoku often report the same emotions: they feel trapped, that nobody listens to them, and that they’d explode if it weren’t for their nightly forays into freedom. They feel literally voiceless, and a souped-up engine with an ultra-loud exhaust pipe acts as a pretty good substitute voice for them.

I’m no psychiatrist (you may have noticed), but I do know people, and I know what it’s like to be a pissed off teenager – and these are as pissed off teenagers as I’ve ever seen. Sure, some of the blame can be placed on them. In some ways, rebelling like this is taking the easy way out – instead of trying to change their situation, they are (quietly) accepting it by day and then (loudly) equalizing the pressure at night. But, we are all products of our society. What about the parents? Children learn the most basic things from them. Right and wrong: our moral compass. If parents place strong emphasis on success at school and, later, financial success in business, above everything else, then surely the children will, too? However, the perspective can become messed up for a child, with academic success rating as more important than human life, in extreme cases. You see the articles in the news – a school boy killed himself because he was caught with a cigarette lighter at school; another killed his family because he was failing at school and could not live up to his parents’ expectations; yet another bludgeoned a store owner to death because he “was in a bad mood and needed a distraction.” These are the actions of kids who don’t know right from wrong. They have an unbalanced value system. The first boy decided he would rather die than get in trouble. The second was so scared of disappointing his parents, he killed them. And, on a less extreme level, the bosozoku release stress at night, at the expense of everyone sleeping around them.

Misbehaving kids are not endemic to Japan, of course. In England, strict alcohol laws mean that most teens can’t wait to get their hands on the grog. I know I couldn’t. Perhaps in Japan, with conformity and quiet success held in such high regard, naturally kids wanting to express themselves will gravitate toward the opposite – mayhem and mischief. Bosozoku, annoying as they are, are nothing but a symptom. I recognize and understand their cry for help. But do they have to be so bloody loud?

By Matt Benyon, English, Editor & Insomniac
Writers wanted! info@fukuoka-now.com

 

 

 

 

早朝4時。ボサボサの頭に下着姿でベランダに立ち、暗闇に向かって大声で叫んでいる僕。なぜか手にはフライパン…。普段はかなり穏やかな僕もこの日ばかりはキレていた。まるでビルが崩壊するかのような爆音で目が覚めたんだ。窓から覗くとバイクの行列。それも耳をつんざくような騒音を放ちながら道路をジーグザーグと荒っぽく走り抜けて行く。「いったい今のは何なんだ？」 10分後、グーグルサーチの末に彼らには「暴走族」という名前があることを知った。とにかくウルサい暴走族。夜中に暴走する若者たちって本当に迷惑なんだけど、でも待って。これってただの「理由なき反抗」で片付けてしまっていいのかな？

毎晩のごとく鳴り響く騒音とエンジンのうなり声が、僕には段々と「心の叫び」に聞こえてきたんだ。テレビなんかで「暴走族」のインタビューを見ていると、決まって彼らは同じ感情を口にしている、「縛られている、誰も聞いてくれない、爆発しそうだ」。学校の授業、塾通い、外国語のレッスンにクラブ活動、終りなき勉強の日々…と周囲の大きな期待の中で苦しみ、そして助けを求めているんだ。

最近、日本でよくこんなニュースを耳にする。学校でライターを持っていることバレて自殺してしまったとか、学校の成績が悪くて家族を殺してしまったとか、ストレスがたまっていて店員をこん棒で殴り殺してしまったとか。彼らは問題児になる前に死を選んだり、親をがっかりさせることを恐れるがゆえ、その親を殺してしまう。そう、善悪の判断がつかなかったり、物事の尊さがわからなかったりするんだろうね。そういうある程度の常識、善悪の分別やモラルって、子供は親から学び、社会生活の中で身につけていくものだよね。どんなに大人たちが、「学校でよい成績をとることが将来成功する社会人になることだ」って教えたって、全ての子供たちがそういう生き方を選ぶのかな？学歴が人間の本質よりも大事って雰囲気の中で、いったい何が正しくて、どう生きればいいのかって混乱するに違いないよ。

こんなプレッシャーやストレスを抱えた若者たちが、真夜中の静けさの中でクラクションを響かせ、自己主張することで、一瞬の刺激と興奮、スリルを味わい、自由を感じ、発散してるように見える。自分たちの「心の叫び」を聞いてほしいんじゃない？僕にはそれが彼らなりの自己表現のように映るんだ。協調性をより重んじる日本社会で自分を表現しようとする子供たちを、社会や大人はただ「反抗」や「不良」といったレッテルだけで片付けてしまってない？普段は違反者たちを追跡して取り締まるのに忙しい警察だって、「暴走族」たちの後を追っかけようともしないのはどうしてなの？

僕の国でも厳しいアルコール規則が、多くの若者たちのお酒に対する興味を駆り立たせる。少なくとも僕もその一人だったから、そんな若者たちの気持ちってよく分かる。でもさ、かといってあんなにウルサくしなくてもいいんじゃないの？ドオデショ？

 

 

 

 

It’s not that often I get angry; it takes a lot to push me over the edge.

So, standing on my balcony at four in the morning in my undies yelling curses into the night, eyes wild and hair unkempt, I realized: This was serious. The first time it happened, I awoke – bleary-eyed – to what sounded like a building being demolished. Fearing either terrorism or a Godzilla-related disturbance, I staggered to my balcony, sleepily grabbing a frying pan in self defense.

But there were no terrorists, and no giant monsters. There was only a long column of excessively modified and skull-splittingly loud motorbikes weaving their way down the street below. Their exhaust pipes blatted out a tattoo loud enough to wake anybody in the surrounding houses. I watched this parade roll down the road (past a koban, no less) until it disappeared, and the usual drone of traffic returned.

What were they doing? What drove them to be so obnoxious? Why was I holding a frying pan in my hand? I had to know the answers to these questions. Ten minutes later, thanks to the power of Google, these faceless riders had a name. Bosozoku, “violent running tribe.” Or, as I like to call them, “little shits on bikes.” A mostly teenage activity, bosozoku gangs rampage through the night on their customized bikes playing loud music, making lots of noise, and doing generally anti-social things. The police rarely seem to do anything about them – forget what you’ve seen on “Cops”, with cruisers boldly ramming lawbreakers off the road. More often than not, the bikers scream through the streets with police unable to do anything but meekly follow and beep their horns.

My anger at the bikers soon subsided though. I realized that their booming stereos and roaring engines were nothing less than the loudest cry for help I’d ever heard. These kids are trying to escape an existence of endless studying and high expectations. Ferried from high school to cram classes to language courses to sports clubs, they never have a moment to breathe, to express themselves, or even to relax. You may accuse me of stereotyping, but with the average father at work 37 hours a day and a society that places harmony, or the appearance of harmony, above all else, it’s only natural to feel walled-in and isolated. Interviews with bosozoku often report the same emotions: they feel trapped, that nobody listens to them, and that they’d explode if it weren’t for their nightly forays into freedom. They feel literally voiceless, and a souped-up engine with an ultra-loud exhaust pipe acts as a pretty good substitute voice for them.

I’m no psychiatrist (you may have noticed), but I do know people, and I know what it’s like to be a pissed off teenager – and these are as pissed off teenagers as I’ve ever seen. Sure, some of the blame can be placed on them. In some ways, rebelling like this is taking the easy way out – instead of trying to change their situation, they are (quietly) accepting it by day and then (loudly) equalizing the pressure at night. But, we are all products of our society. What about the parents? Children learn the most basic things from them. Right and wrong: our moral compass. If parents place strong emphasis on success at school and, later, financial success in business, above everything else, then surely the children will, too? However, the perspective can become messed up for a child, with academic success rating as more important than human life, in extreme cases. You see the articles in the news – a school boy killed himself because he was caught with a cigarette lighter at school; another killed his family because he was failing at school and could not live up to his parents’ expectations; yet another bludgeoned a store owner to death because he “was in a bad mood and needed a distraction.” These are the actions of kids who don’t know right from wrong. They have an unbalanced value system. The first boy decided he would rather die than get in trouble. The second was so scared of disappointing his parents, he killed them. And, on a less extreme level, the bosozoku release stress at night, at the expense of everyone sleeping around them.

Misbehaving kids are not endemic to Japan, of course. In England, strict alcohol laws mean that most teens can’t wait to get their hands on the grog. I know I couldn’t. Perhaps in Japan, with conformity and quiet success held in such high regard, naturally kids wanting to express themselves will gravitate toward the opposite – mayhem and mischief. Bosozoku, annoying as they are, are nothing but a symptom. I recognize and understand their cry for help. But do they have to be so bloody loud?

By Matt Benyon, English, Editor & Insomniac
Writers wanted! info@fukuoka-now.com

 

 

 

 

It’s not that often I get angry; it takes a lot to push me over the edge.

So, standing on my balcony at four in the morning in my undies yelling curses into the night, eyes wild and hair unkempt, I realized: This was serious. The first time it happened, I awoke – bleary-eyed – to what sounded like a building being demolished. Fearing either terrorism or a Godzilla-related disturbance, I staggered to my balcony, sleepily grabbing a frying pan in self defense.

But there were no terrorists, and no giant monsters. There was only a long column of excessively modified and skull-splittingly loud motorbikes weaving their way down the street below. Their exhaust pipes blatted out a tattoo loud enough to wake anybody in the surrounding houses. I watched this parade roll down the road (past a koban, no less) until it disappeared, and the usual drone of traffic returned.

What were they doing? What drove them to be so obnoxious? Why was I holding a frying pan in my hand? I had to know the answers to these questions. Ten minutes later, thanks to the power of Google, these faceless riders had a name. Bosozoku, “violent running tribe.” Or, as I like to call them, “little shits on bikes.” A mostly teenage activity, bosozoku gangs rampage through the night on their customized bikes playing loud music, making lots of noise, and doing generally anti-social things. The police rarely seem to do anything about them – forget what you’ve seen on “Cops”, with cruisers boldly ramming lawbreakers off the road. More often than not, the bikers scream through the streets with police unable to do anything but meekly follow and beep their horns.

My anger at the bikers soon subsided though. I realized that their booming stereos and roaring engines were nothing less than the loudest cry for help I’d ever heard. These kids are trying to escape an existence of endless studying and high expectations. Ferried from high school to cram classes to language courses to sports clubs, they never have a moment to breathe, to express themselves, or even to relax. You may accuse me of stereotyping, but with the average father at work 37 hours a day and a society that places harmony, or the appearance of harmony, above all else, it’s only natural to feel walled-in and isolated. Interviews with bosozoku often report the same emotions: they feel trapped, that nobody listens to them, and that they’d explode if it weren’t for their nightly forays into freedom. They feel literally voiceless, and a souped-up engine with an ultra-loud exhaust pipe acts as a pretty good substitute voice for them.

I’m no psychiatrist (you may have noticed), but I do know people, and I know what it’s like to be a pissed off teenager – and these are as pissed off teenagers as I’ve ever seen. Sure, some of the blame can be placed on them. In some ways, rebelling like this is taking the easy way out – instead of trying to change their situation, they are (quietly) accepting it by day and then (loudly) equalizing the pressure at night. But, we are all products of our society. What about the parents? Children learn the most basic things from them. Right and wrong: our moral compass. If parents place strong emphasis on success at school and, later, financial success in business, above everything else, then surely the children will, too? However, the perspective can become messed up for a child, with academic success rating as more important than human life, in extreme cases. You see the articles in the news – a school boy killed himself because he was caught with a cigarette lighter at school; another killed his family because he was failing at school and could not live up to his parents’ expectations; yet another bludgeoned a store owner to death because he “was in a bad mood and needed a distraction.” These are the actions of kids who don’t know right from wrong. They have an unbalanced value system. The first boy decided he would rather die than get in trouble. The second was so scared of disappointing his parents, he killed them. And, on a less extreme level, the bosozoku release stress at night, at the expense of everyone sleeping around them.

Misbehaving kids are not endemic to Japan, of course. In England, strict alcohol laws mean that most teens can’t wait to get their hands on the grog. I know I couldn’t. Perhaps in Japan, with conformity and quiet success held in such high regard, naturally kids wanting to express themselves will gravitate toward the opposite – mayhem and mischief. Bosozoku, annoying as they are, are nothing but a symptom. I recognize and understand their cry for help. But do they have to be so bloody loud?

By Matt Benyon, English, Editor & Insomniac
Writers wanted! info@fukuoka-now.com