Riders on The Storm

The heyday of two-stroke motorcycles and their reckless illegal street racers may have passed in Vietnam but their stories are still widely told. Vietnamese have a special term for people who race motorcycle, either illegally or legally, for a living: nài. After a motorcycle has received all the latest and greatest modifications the head mechanic and his garage could get their hands on and after they have tuned it to the best of their abilities, it is up to the rider to extract the motorcycle’s maximum potential. In those days, a rider’s reflex and recklessness defined his success.

A motorcycle garage. Courtesy of VnExpress.

People do not call a rider nài just because he can jump on a motorcycle and run it until the engine explodes. Those are only pawns for the garages to test the limits of their motorcycle. A real nài rarely admits that they do what they do best. Furthermore, most of them are rather hot-headed and rugged in everyday life because typically they did not have a proper education. They are addicted to speed and the sound of two-stroke engines banging in their ears. The feeling of the wind tearing away at their face can be just as ecstatic as the sound of heavy bass is to patrons of night clubs. When trailing behind another motorcycle in a race, being able to catch up to it and then pass it is, for them, a drug no less powerful than heroin. Away from the races, they appear uncouth but when racing, they are calm and calculating. They are not afraid to play the game and take calculated risks to win the game.

A typical street-racer. Courtesy of Zing.

Is this too much praise to shower upon these people? Does all of this sound rather fictional? No, some famous riders, Mã Kim So for example, still live to this day and the naked truth is that they really are how they were thought to be. Another and more brutal truth is that of among those involved in street races at that time, the owners of the garages were the only ones to become successful: having “one wife, two kids, three stories (a house), four wheels (a car).” It seems racing was more than just a pastime for them, it was their passion. Despite their love for speed and victory, true riders did not race often. They always saved their best for the big races between the garages themselves. Obviously, most of them will race for their own garage but some did not have any affiliation to any garage and were racers-for-hire. The “professional” riders thoroughly understood the strengths and weaknesses of their motorcycle and would always have their bag of tricks. They excel at racing both on closed tracks and on the street. The more races they win the more famous they become. The “unprofessional” riders could not ride in organized competitions because track-racing required a totally different skill set to street-racing. Nevertheless, they were still more “outrageous” than anyone would want to be. But the sad truth was that apart from the professionals other racers were extremely prone to having accidents, many of which were fatal.

A fallen rider. Courtesy of BikerVietnam.

In such loosely controlled races at that time, many estimated that six out of ten racers would fall of their motorcycle. And there was not much love between the racers either. In a race, no rider would care if someone had fallen off because the finish line was straight in front of them so all they could think of was revving out everything the engine could give them. If you did not know the rider who fell then it was “good riddance.” If you did, you would believe that he would be taken care of by the entourage who were behind the race. Those who lived to this day with their bodies intact have seen too many instances when, during đi bão (literally “storm rides”), friends on Suzuki Crystals accidentally fatally crashed into one another. All the youthful vigor they had when alive was nowhere to be seen and their corpses were often mangled. The only option then was to clean up the scene as fast as possible, bring the bodies back and plan their funerals. But it was not over, because there were fatalities, those who participated in the race and even those who spectated could be charged with third-degree murder. Then there was an even worse misfortune: killing an innocent civilian. More often than not, especially in rural areas, garages would test their modified Yamaha 110SS or Suzuki RGV on public roads. Even the most skillful riders will have no luck if a civilian decided to cross the road at the exact moment he test rides a motorcycle. At the end of so many races in that period was some dead and someone going to jail.

A typical “storm ride”. Courtesy of Tiền Phong.

Back to the topic of nài, good ones were even capable of riding normal motorcycles and beating others on modified motorcycles. How was this possible? It was because they had their bag of tricks. The most important trick was “false count”. Before races there will always be a countdown from three: “Three… Two… One… Go!” An experienced rider will count along with the announcement, but right when they hear “One”, they start to take off. They have to precisely time the moment the wheels start rolling so that as soon as “Go” is heard they already have a high-revving engine. This will guarantee that they will be a few hundredths of a second faster than their opponent. Such time difference may seem unimpressive but if the riders are of equal skills and the motorcycles are evenly modified, it can mean victory.

Vietnamese call the gauge of a motorcycle the altar so that they would always be mindful of the dangers of commuting. For racers, however, it meant no such thing. The speedometer was for bragging rights and the tachometer was used to time correct gear shifts. When racing, the riders will tuck their body in to reduce air drag, but how they do it is totally different from what was taught elsewhere in the world. They would lay face-down on the motorcycle, their hands firmly on the grips to keep the revs as high as possible and their body at the mercy of the wind and their own recklessness. They would only keep their head slightly tilted up to see where the gate to the next world is and swerve to avoid it, if they cannot do it in time then they lose – both the race and their lives. But this method is most popular on less powerful four-stroke motorcycles such as the Honda “67” or the Honda Dream II because their maximum speeds are still quite “safe” compared to that of monsters like the RGV or Nova Dash. 

A street-race captured on camera. Courtesy of VnExpress.

If the riders were equally skillful and their motorcycles equally powerful, for the one behind to overtake his opponent, he would also need another trick: keep revving the engine even when it has redlined and aim straight for their opponent’s rear end. This is called drafting and is very effective but also quite risky. All motorcycles have to battle against the air in order to go faster and as they go faster, the air effectively gets thicker so that makes it even more difficult to keep accelerating. When drafting, the motorcycle behind gets a significant boost in speed because the one in front has taken the bulk of the air current and as its front wheel approaches the other’s rear wheel (at this moment if the rider in front even touches the brakes both will crash) the rider behind has to swerve a little to the side and take advantage of the moment and take the lead (usually by half to one motorcycle length). But there is hardly any room for error. It is then important for the rider who successfully passed to maintain speed and block their opponent from drafting them. The rule is to not turn back and look because at such high speeds, to be distracted is to court death. Many have paid the price for the joy of overtaking with their lives.

Four-stroke motorcycles like the Dream II and “67” can reach between 120 and 130 km/h with all-out modifications. At those speeds, they are still stable. But for a motorcycle as light as the RGV (101 kg) that can reach 160 to 170 km/h, it is like riding on clouds with their lives dangling at the mercy of civilians, animals and other vehicles (mostly trucks). If a rider spots an obstacle while travelling at 150 km/h, they will be forced to reduce speed, sit up properly on the motorcycle to have enough braking power to stop. If a novice is suddenly blasted by the incredibly strong winds, they will surely fall off and meet their end. If it is a veteran, however, they can apply the braking principle of anti-lock braking systems (pull and release the brake lever repeatedly quickly) and (hopefully) come to a safe stop.

After his decorated racing days were over, Mã Kim So retired peacefully with his family in Ho Chi Minh City. He now has his own garage and the lessons he learned from his racing has benefitted him greatly. But his most valuable lesson is not about technique or skill, it is that racing in life is actually like in video games except for the absence of a reset button. “The young ones should choose carefully now,” he said. “I had no choice but to race, but now they nothing but choices.”

Mr. Mã Kim So. Courtesy of Dân Trí.